turning to Marya Dmitrievna, she said in an undertone: "_Mais elle est delicieuse!_" Liza flushed faintly, insult was audible to her in this exclamation; but she made up her mind not to trust her impressions, and seated herself by the window, at her embroidery-frame. Even there, Varvara Pavlovna did not leave her in peace: she went up to her, began to praise her taste, her art.... Liza's heart beat violently and painfully, she could hardly control herself, she could hardly sit still on her chair. It seemed to her that Varvara Pavlovna knew everything, and, secretly triumphing, was jeering at her. Fortunately for her, Gedeonovsky entered into conversation with Varvara Pavlovna, and distracted her attention. Liza bent over her embroidery-frame, and stealthily watched her. "_He_ loved that woman,"--she said to herself. But she immediately banished from her head the thought of Lavretzky: she was afraid of losing control over herself, she felt that her head was softly whirling. Marya Dmitrievna began to talk about music. "I have heard, my dear,"--she began:--"that you are a wonderful performer." "It is a long time since I have played,"--replied Varvara Pavlovna, as she seated herself, in a leisurely manner, at the piano, and ran her fingers in a dashing way over the keys.--"Would you like to have me play?" "Pray do." Varvara Pavlovna played a brilliant and difficult etude of Herz in a masterly style. She had a great deal of strength and execution. "A sylph!"--exclaimed Gedeonovsky. "Remarkable!"--assented Marya Dmitrievna.--"Well, Varvara Pavlovna, I must confess,"--she said, calling her, for the first time, by her name:--"you have amazed me; you might even give concerts. We have an old musician here, a German, an eccentric fellow, very learned; he gives Liza lessons; he will simply go out of his mind over you." "Lizaveta Mikhailovna is also a musician?"--inquired Varvara Pavlovna, turning her head slightly in her direction. "Yes, she plays quite well, and loves music; but what does that signify, in comparison with you? But there is a young man here; you ought to make his acquaintance. He is--an artist in soul, and composes very prettily. He is the only one who can fully appreciate you." "A young man?"--said Varvara Pavlovna.--"Who is he? Some poor fellow?" "Good gracious,--he's our chief cavalier, and not among us only--_et a Petersbourg_. A Junior Gentleman of the Bedchamber, received in the best society. You certainly must have heard of him,--Panshin, Vladimir Nikolaitch. He is here on a government commission ... a future Minister, upon my word!" "And an artist?" "An artist in soul, and such a charming fellow. You shall see him. He has been at my house very frequently of late; I have invited him for this evening; I hope that he will come,"--added Marya Dmitrievna, with a gentle sigh and a sidelong bitter smile. Liza understood the significance of that smile; but she cared nothing for it.