"You have written some very beautiful music for 'Fridolin,' Christofor Feodoritch,"--he said aloud:--"and what think you; did that Fridolin, after the Count had led him to his wife, become her lover--hey?" "That is what you think,"--returned Lemm: "because, probably, experience...." He suddenly fell silent, and turned away in confusion. Lavretzky laughed in a constrained way, turned away also, and began to stare along the road. The stars had already begun to pale, and the sky was grey, when the calash rolled up to the porch of the little house at Vasilievskoe. Lavretzky conducted his guest to the chamber which had been assigned to him, returned to his study, and sat down by the window. In the park, a nightingale was singing its last lay before the dawn. Lavretzky remembered that a nightingale had been singing in the Kalitins' garden also; he recalled, too, the tranquil movement of Liza's eyes when, at the first sounds of it, they had turned toward the dark window. He began to think of her, and his heart grew calm within him. "Pure little star,"--he said to himself, in a low tone:--"pure stars,"--he added, with a smile, and calmly lay down to sleep. But Lemm sat, for a long time, on his bed, with a book of music-paper on his knees. It seemed as though a strange, sweet melody were about to visit him: he was already burning and growing agitated, he already felt the lassitude and sweetness of its approach ... but it did not come. "I am not a poet, and not a musician!"--he whispered at last.... And his weary head sank back heavily on the pillow. XXIII On the following morning, host and guest drank tea in the garden, under an ancient linden-tree. "Maestro!"--said Lavretzky, among other things:--"you will soon have to compose a triumphal cantata." "On what occasion?" "On the occasion of the marriage of Mr. Panshin to Liza. Did you notice how he was paying court to her last evening? It seems as though everything were going smoothly with them." "That shall not be!" exclaimed Lemm. "Why not?" "Because it is impossible. However,"--he added, after a pause:--"everything is possible in this world. Especially here, with you, in Russia." "Let us leave Russia out of the question for the present; but what evil do you see in that marriage?" "All is evil, all. Lizaveta Mikhailovna is an upright, serious maiden, with exalted sentiments,--but he ... he is a di-let-tante, in one word." "But surely she loves him?" Lemm rose from the bench.