[12] This service, consisting (generally) of Vespers and Matins, can be read in private houses, and even by laymen: whereas, the Liturgy, or Mass, must be celebrated at a duly consecrated altar, by a duly ordained priest.--Translator. XXXIII One day, according to his custom, Lavretzky was sitting at the Kalitins'. A fatiguingly-hot day had been followed by so fine an evening, that Marya Dmitrievna, despite her aversion to the fresh air, had ordered all the windows and doors into the garden to be opened, and had announced that she would not play cards, that it was a sin to play cards in such weather, and one must enjoy nature. Panshin was the only visitor. Tuned up by the evening, and unwilling to sing before Lavretzky, yet conscious of an influx of artistic emotions, he turned to poetry: he recited well, but with too much self-consciousness, and with unnecessary subtleties, several of Lermontoff's poems (at that time, Pushkin had not yet become fashionable again)--and, all at once, as though ashamed of his expansiveness, he began, apropos of the familiar "Thought," to upbraid and reprove the present generation; in that connection, not missing the opportunity to set forth, how he would turn everything around in his own way, if the power were in his hands. "Russia," said he,--"has lagged behind Europe; she must catch up with it. People assert, that we are young--that is nonsense; and moreover, that we possess no inventive genius: X ... himself admits that we have not even invented a mouse-trap. Consequently, we are compelled, willy-nilly, to borrow from others. 'We are ill,'--says Lermontoff,--I agree with him; but we are ill because we have only half converted ourselves into Europeans; that is where we have made our mistake, and that is what we must be cured of." ("_Le cadastre_,"--thought Lavretzky).--"The best heads among us,"--he went on,--"_les meilleurs tetes_--have long since become convinced of this; all nations are, essentially, alike; only introduce good institutions, and there's an end of the matter. One may even conform to the existing national life; that is our business, the business of men ..." (he came near saying: "of statesmen") "who are in the service; but, in case of need, be not uneasy: the institutions will transform that same existence." Marya Dmitrievna, with emotion, backed up Panshin. "What a clever man this is,"--she thought,--"talking in my house!" Liza said nothing, as she leaned against a window-frame; Lavretzky also maintained silence; Marfa Timofeevna, who was playing cards in the corner with her friend, muttered something to herself. Panshin strode up and down the room, and talked eloquently, but with a secret spite: he seemed to be scolding not the whole race, but certain individuals of his acquaintance. In the Kalitins' garden, in a large lilac-bush, dwelt a nightingale, whose first evening notes rang forth in