dded in his native
tongue,--"But he is utterly incapable of understanding it. How is it
you don't see that? He is a _dilettante_--that is all."

"You are unjust towards him," replied Liza. "He understands every
thing, and can do almost every thing himself."

"Yes, every thing second-rate--poor goods, scamped work. But that
pleases, and he pleases, and he is well content with that. Well, then,
bravo!--But I am not angry. I and that cantata, we are both old fools!
I feel a little ashamed, but it's no matter."

"Forgive me, Christopher Fedorovich!" urged Liza anew.

"It's no matter, no matter," he repeated a second time in Russian.
"You are a good girl.--Here is some one coming to pay you a visit.
Good-bye. You are a very good girl."

And Lemm made his way with hasty steps to the gate, through which
there was passing a gentleman who was a stranger to him, dressed in a
grey paletot and a broad straw hat. Politely saluting him (he bowed
to every new face in O., and always turned away his head from his
acquaintances in the street--such was the rule he had adopted), Lemm
went past him, and disappeared behind the wall.

The stranger gazed at him as he retired with surprise, then looked at
Liza, and then went straight up to her.

VII.

"You won't remember me," he said, as he took off his hat, "but I
recognized you, though it is seven years since I saw you last. You
were a child then. I am Lavretsky. Is your mamma at home? Can I see
her?"

"Mamma will be so glad," replied Liza. "She has heard of your
arrival."

"Your name is Elizaveta, isn't it?" asked Lavretsky, as he mounted the
steps leading up to the house.

"Yes."

"I remember you perfectly. Yours was even in those days one of the
faces which one does not forget. I used to bring you sweetmeats then."

Liza blushed a little, and thought to herself, "What an odd man!"
Lavretsky stopped for a minute in the hall.

Liza entered the drawing-room, in which Panshine's voice and laugh
were making themselves heard. He was communicating some piece of town
gossip to Maria Dmitrievna and Gedeonovsky, both of whom had by this
time returned from the garden, and he was laughly loudly at his own
story. At the name of Lavretsky, Maria Dmitrievna became nervous and
turned pale, but went forward to receive him.

"How are you? how are you, my dear cousin?" she exclaimed, with an
almost lachrymose voice, dwelling on each word she uttered. "How glad
I am to see you!"