upon us sinners, and purge out of us by fire all evil thoughts and earthly hopes!"--On the title-page, very carefully written, and even drawn, stood the following: "Only the Just are Right. A Spiritual Cantata. Composed and dedicated to Miss Elizaveta Kalitin, my beloved pupil, by her teacher, C. T. G. Lemm." The words: "Only the Just are Right," and "Elizaveta Kalitin," were surrounded by rays. Below was added: "For you alone,"--"Fuer Sie allein."--Therefore Lemm had crimsoned and had cast a sidelong glance at Liza; it pained him greatly when Panshin spoke of his cantata in his presence. VI Panshin struck the opening chords of the sonata loudly, and with decision (he was playing the second hand), but Liza did not begin her part. He stopped, and looked at her. Liza's eyes, fixed straight upon him, expressed displeasure; her lips were not smiling, her whole face was stern, almost sad. "What is the matter with you?"--he inquired. "Why did not you keep your word?" said she.--"I showed you Christofor Feodoritch's cantata on condition that you would not mention it to him." "Pardon me, Lizaveta Mikhailovna, it was a slip of the tongue." "You have wounded him--and me also. Now he will not trust me any more." "What would you have me do, Lizaveta Mikhailovna! From my earliest childhood, I have never been able to endure the sight of a German: something simply impels me to stir him up." "Why do you say that, Vladimir Nikolaitch! This German is a poor, solitary, broken man--and you feel no pity for him? You want to stir him up?" Panshin was disconcerted. "You are right, Lizaveta Mikhailovna,"--he said. "My eternal thoughtlessness is responsible for the whole thing. No, do not say a word; I know myself well. My thoughtlessness has done me many an ill turn. Thanks to it, I have won the reputation of an egoist." Panshin paused for a moment. No matter how he began a conversation, he habitually wound up by speaking of himself, and he did it in a charming, soft, confidential, almost involuntary way. "And here in your house,"--he went on:--"your mother likes me, of course,--she is so kind; you ... however, I do not know your opinion of me; but your aunt, on the contrary, cannot bear me. I must have offended her, also, by some thoughtless, stupid remark. For she does not like me, does she?" "No," said Liza, with some hesitation:--"you do not please her." Panshin swept his fingers swiftly over the keys; a barely perceptible smile flitted across his lips. "Well, and you?"--he said:--"Do I seem an egoist to you also?" "I know you very slightly,"--returned Liza:--"but I do not consider you an egoist; on the contrary, I ought to feel grateful to you...."