and sevens; and he lived worse than his papa, and got no pleasure for himself,--but wasted all the money, and there was none to pay for requiems for his soul; he left not even a silver spoon behind him, so it was lucky that Glafira Petrovna brought things into order." "And is it true,"--Lavretzky interrupted him,--"that she was called an ill-tempered old hag?" "Why, surely, some did call her that!"--returned Anton, in displeasure. * * * * * "WELL, little father,"--the old man one day summoned the courage to ask;--"and how about our young mistress; where is she pleased to have her residence?" "I have separated from my wife,"--said Lavretzky, with an effort:--"please do not inquire about her." "I obey, sir,"--replied the old man, sadly. After the lapse of three weeks, Lavretzky rode into O * * * on horseback, to the Kalitins', and passed the evening with them. Lemm was there; Lavretzky conceived a great liking for him. Although, thanks to his father, he did not play on any instrument, yet he was passionately fond of music,--intelligent, classical music. Panshin was not at the Kalitins' that evening. The Governor had sent him off somewhere, out of town. Liza played alone, and with great precision; Lemm grew animated, excited, rolled a piece of paper into a baton, and beat time. Marya Dmitrievna laughed, at first, as she watched him, and then went off to bed; as she said, Beethoven was too agitating for her nerves. At midnight, Lavretzky escorted Lemm to his lodgings, and sat with him until three o'clock in the morning. Lemm talked a great deal; his bent shoulders straightened up, his eyes opened widely and sparkled; his very hair stood upright above his brow. It was such a very long time since any one had taken an interest in him, but Lavretzky evidently did take an interest, and interrogated him solicitously and attentively. This touched the old man; he ended by showing his visitor his music, he even played and sang to him, with his ghost of a voice, several selections from his compositions,--among others, the whole of Schiller's ballad "Fridolin," which he had set to music. Lavretzky lauded it, made him repeat portions of it, and invited him to visit him for a few days. Lemm, who was escorting him to the street, immediately accepted, and shook his hand warmly; but when he was left alone, in the cool, damp air of the day which was just beginning to dawn, he glanced around him, screwed up his eyes, writhed, and went softly to his tiny chamber, like a guilty creature: "Ich bin wohl nicht klug" (I'm not in my right mind),--he muttered, as he lay down on his hard, short bed. He tried to assert that he was ill when, a few days later, Lavretzky came for him in a calash; but Feodor Ivanitch went to him, in his room, and persuaded him. The circumstance which operated most powerfully of all on Lemm was, that Lavretzky had ordered a piano to be sent to his country-house from the