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"No, not Lisaveta Mihalovna, but Elena Mihalovna." "Oh! very well. Lenotchka, go up-stairs with Mr. Lemm." The old man was about to follow the little girl, but Panshin stopped him. "Don't go after the lesson, Christopher Fedoritch," he said. "Lisa Mihalovna and I are going to play a duet of Beethoven's sonata."
However, you can read what is marked with pencil in that article," he added, handing her the paper he had brought with him. "Let me ask you to keep it a secret; I will come to-morrow morning." Lisa was greatly bewildered. Panshin appeared in the doorway. She put the newspaper in her pocket. "Have you read Obermann, Lisaveta Mihalovna?" Panshin asked her pensively.
But take the books that are written up there, those deep, pure, humorous books, Lisaveta to me there is nothing like them and I love them. Or just simply take the names, the personal names that adorn the people up there, and that we also had in large numbers at home, take a name like Ingeborg, a harp-chord of the most immaculate poesy.
But I have only now got a look at you. Are you quite well?" "Yes." "Shurotchka!" cried Marfa Timofyevna suddenly, "run and tell Lisaveta Mihalovna, at least, no, ask her... is she down-stairs?" "Yes." "Well, then; ask her where she put my book? she will know." "Very well." The old lady grew fidgety again and began opening a drawer in the chest. Lavretsky sat still without stirring in his place.
'Such things are a gift, humbly say the good people who are under the influence of an artist, and because cheerful and exalted effects, according to their good-natured view, must quite inevitably have cheerful and exalted origins, nobody suspects that we may perhaps have here a most questionable 'gift, most evilly conditioned ... It is known that artists are over-sensitive well, it is also known that this is not the case with people of good conscience and well-founded self-esteem ... You see, Lisaveta, at the bottom of my soul translated into the intellectual I have all the suspicion of the artist type with which each one of my honorable forefathers up yonder in that cramped city would have encountered any charlatan or adventurous 'artist' that might have entered his house.
"Yes, I am going away now, Lisaveta; I must take an airing, and I am going off, going to take to the open." "Well, how is it, Little Father, will it be your royal pleasure to return to Italy?" "Good gracious, go on with your Italy, Lisaveta! Italy is indifferent to me to the point of contempt. It is a long time since I imagined I belonged there. Art, eh?
The game of preference was soon over. Panshin inquired after Lisaveta Mihalovna, learnt that she was not quite well, and expressed his regret. Then he began to talk to Varvara Pavlovna, diplomatically weighing each word and giving it its full value, and politely hearing her answers to the end. But the dignity of his diplomatic tone did not impress Varvara Pavlovna, and she did not adopt it.
I am a lover of life this is a confession. Take it and keep it, for I never made it to any one else. They say, they have actually written and printed it, that I hate or fear or despise or loathe life. I have liked to hear that, for it flattered me; but it is none the less false. I love life ... You smile, Lisaveta, and I know why.
Utter a truth in whose conquest and possession you perhaps have a certain youthful joy, and your vulgar enlightenment will be answered by a very brief emission of air through the nose ... Ah yes, literature wearies, Lisaveta!
That is neutral ground, untouched by the change of seasons, you see; it represents, so to speak, the remote and elevated sphere of the literary, where one is capable of none but distinguished ideas ... And he went to the café, and perhaps I ought to have gone along." Lisaveta was amused. "That is good, Tonio Kröger. That about 'indecent prickling' is good.
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