Two days later, Marya Dmitrievna arrived with all her young people at Vasilievskoe, in accordance with her promise. The little girls immediately ran out into the garden, while Marya Dmitrievna languidly traversed the rooms, and languidly praised everything. Her visit to Lavretzky she regarded as a token of great condescension, almost in the light of a good deed. She smiled affably when Anton and Apraxyeya, after the ancient custom of house-serfs, came to kiss her hand,--and in an enervated voice, through her nose, she asked them to give her some tea. To the great vexation of Anton, who had donned white knitted gloves, the newly-arrived lady was served with tea not by him, but by Lavretzky's hired valet, who, according to the assertion of the old man, knew nothing whatever about proper forms. On the other hand, Anton reasserted his rights at dinner: firm as a post he stood behind Marya Dmitrievna's chair--and yielded his place to no one. The long-unprecedented arrival of visitors at Vasilievskoe both agitated and rejoiced the old man: it pleased him to see, that his master knew nice people. However, he was not the only one who was excited on that day: Lemm, also, was excited. He put on a short, snuff-coloured frock-coat, with a sharp-pointed collar, bound his neckerchief tightly, and incessantly coughed and stepped aside, with an agreeable and courteous mien. Lavretzky noted, with satisfaction, that the close relations between himself and Liza still continued: no sooner did she enter, than she offered him her hand, in friendly wise. After dinner, Lemm drew forth, from the back pocket of his coat, into which he had been constantly thrusting his hand, a small roll of music, and pursing up his lips, he silently laid it on the piano. It was a romance, which he had composed on the preceding day to old-fashioned German words, in which the stars were alluded to. Liza immediately seated herself at the piano and began to decipher the romance.... Alas, the music turned out to be complicated, and disagreeably strained; it was obvious that the composer had attempted to express some passionate, profound sentiment, but nothing had come of it: so the attempt remained merely an attempt. Lavretzky and Liza both felt this,--and Lemm understood it: he said not a word, put his romance back in his pocket, and in reply to Liza's proposal to play it over again, he merely said significantly, with a shake of his head: "Enough--for the present!"--bent his shoulders, shrank together, and left the room.