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Updated: May 25, 2025
"You had better have played your romance over again," replied Lemm; then, escaping from Panshine's hold he went out of the room. Liza ran after him, and caught him on the steps. "Christopher Fedorovich, I want to speak to you," she said in German, as led him across the short green grass to the gate. "I have done you a wrong forgive me." Lemm made no reply.
For a long while he could make no one hear; at last at a window the old man's head appeared in a nightcap, sour, wrinkled, and utterly unlike the inspired austere visage which twenty-four hours ago had looked down imperiously upon Lavretsky in all the dignity of artistic grandeur. "What do you want?" queried Lemm. "I can't play to you every night, I have taken a decoction for a cold."
But something of that kind." "I am sorry that I am not a poet either," remarked Lavretsky. "Empty dreams!" continued Lemm, as he sank into the corner of the carriage. Then he shut his eyes as if he had made up his mind to go to sleep; Several minutes passed. Lavretsky still listened. "Stars, pure stars ... love'" whispered the old man. "Love!" repeated Lavretsky to himself.
Lemm suddenly stopped short. "Please do not jest with me in that way," he began, with faltering voice. "I am not out of my mind. I look forward to the dark grave, and not to a rosy future." Lavretsky felt sorry for the old man, and begged his pardon. After breakfast Lemm played his cantata, and after dinner, at Lavretsky's own instigation, he again began to talk about Liza.
There's Lemm for instance; he is simply in love with you." Lisa's brows did not exactly frown, they contracted slightly; it always happened with her when she heard something disagreeable to her. "I was very sorry for him to-day," Lavretsky added, "with his unsuccessful song. To be young and to fail is bearable; but to be old and not be successful is hard to bear.
He was, so he continued, he might say, a friend of the deceased Lavretsky put on his clothes, went out into the garden, and walked up and down one of its alleys until the break of day. At breakfast, next morning, Lemm asked Lavretsky to let him have horses in order to get back to town. "It is time for me to return to business, that is to lessons," remarked the old man.
"It certainly was not with that intention that I " replied Liza, and became greatly confused. "You are exceedingly good," repeated Lavretsky. "I am a rough-hewn man; but I feel that every one must love you. There is Lemm, for instance: he's simply in love with you." Liza's eyebrows did not exactly frown, but they quivered. This always happened with her when she heard anything she did not like.
During the whole course of the journey both Lemm and Lavretsky spoke little to one another; each was occupied with his own thoughts, and each was glad not to be disturbed by the other; and they parted rather coolly; which is often the way, however, with friends in Russia. "Good-bye," repeated Lavretsky, and bade the coachman drive to his lodging.
"I beg you," he began in an uncertain voice, "do not make fun of me like that. I am not crazy; I look towards the dark grave, not towards a rosy future." Lavretsky felt sorry for the old man; he begged his pardon. After morning tea, Lemm played him his cantata, and after dinner, at Lavretsky's initiative, there was again talk of Lisa. Lavretsky listened to him with attention and curiosity.
"Vain dreams!" replied Lemm, and he buried himself in the corner of the carriage. He closed his eyes as though he were disposing himself to sleep. A few instants passed... Lavretsky listened... "'Stars, pure stars, love," muttered the old man. "Love," Lavretsky repeated to himself. He sank into thought and his heart grew heavy.
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