osed himself. It was written for two choruses: one of the
happy, one of the unhappy. At the end the two united and sang
together, "Merciful Lord, have pity upon us, poof sinners, and keep us
from all evil thoughts and worldly desires." On the title-page, very
carefully and even artistically written, were the words, "Only the
Righteous are in the Right. A Sacred Cantata. Composed, and dedicated
to Elizaveta Kalitine, his dear pupil, by her teacher, C.T.G, Lemm."
The words "Only the Righteous are in the Right." and "To Elizaveta
Kalitine" were surrounded by a circle of rays. Underneath was written,
"For you only. Fuer Sie allein." This was why Lemm grew red and looked
askance at Liza; he felt greatly hurt when Panshine began to talk to
him about his cantata.

IV.

Panshine struck the first chords of the sonata, in which he played the
bass, loudly and with decision, but Liza did not begin her part. He
stopped and looked at her--Liza's eyes, which were looking straight
at him, expressed dissatisfaction; her lips did not smile, all her
countenance was severe, almost sad.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

"Why have you not kept your word?" she said. "I showed you Christopher
Fedorovich's cantata only on condition that you would not speak to him
about it."

"I was wrong, Lizaveta Mikhailovna--I spoke without thinking."

"You have wounded him and me too. In future he will distrust me as
well as others."

"What could I do, Lizaveta Mikhailovna? From my earliest youth I have
never been able to see a German without feeling tempted to tease him."

"What are you saying, Vladimir Nikolaevich? This German is a poor,
lonely, broken man; and you feel no pity for him! you feel tempted to
tease him!"

Panshine seemed a little disconcerted.

"You are right, Lizaveta Mikhailovna," he said "The fault is entirely
due to my perpetual thoughtlessness. No, do not contradict me. I know
myself well. My thoughtlessness has done me no slight harm. It makes
people suppose that I am an egotist."

Panshine made a brief pause. From whatever point he started a
conversation, he generally ended by speaking about himself, and then
his words seemed almost to escape from him involuntarily, so softly
and pleasantly did he speak, and with such an air of sincerity.

"It is so, even in your house," he continued. "Your mamma, it is true,
is most kind to me. She is so good. You--but no, I don't know what you
think of me. But decidedly your a