"Yes, every thing second-rate--poor goods, scamped work. But that pleases, and he pleases, and he is well content with that. Well, then, bravo!--But I am not angry. I and that cantata, we are both old fools! I feel a little ashamed, but it's no matter." "Forgive me, Christopher Fedorovich!" urged Liza anew. "It's no matter, no matter," he repeated a second time in Russian. "You are a good girl.--Here is some one coming to pay you a visit. Good-bye. You are a very good girl." And Lemm made his way with hasty steps to the gate, through which there was passing a gentleman who was a stranger to him, dressed in a grey paletot and a broad straw hat. Politely saluting him (he bowed to every new face in O., and always turned away his head from his acquaintances in the street--such was the rule he had adopted), Lemm went past him, and disappeared behind the wall. The stranger gazed at him as he retired with surprise, then looked at Liza, and then went straight up to her. VII. "You won't remember me," he said, as he took off his hat, "but I recognized you, though it is seven years since I saw you last. You were a child then. I am Lavretsky. Is your mamma at home? Can I see her?" "Mamma will be so glad," replied Liza. "She has heard of your arrival." "Your name is Elizaveta, isn't it?" asked Lavretsky, as he mounted the steps leading up to the house. "Yes." "I remember you perfectly. Yours was even in those days one of the faces which one does not forget. I used to bring you sweetmeats then." Liza blushed a little, and thought to herself, "What an odd man!" Lavretsky stopped for a minute in the hall. Liza entered the drawing-room, in which Panshine's voice and laugh were making themselves heard. He was communicating some piece of town gossip to Maria Dmitrievna and Gedeonovsky, both of whom had by this time returned from the garden, and he was laughly loudly at his own story. At the name of Lavretsky, Maria Dmitrievna became nervous and turned pale, but went forward to receive him. "How are you? how are you, my dear cousin?" she exclaimed, with an almost lachrymose voice, dwelling on each word she uttered. "How glad I am to see you!" "How are you, my good cousin?" replied Lavretsky, with a friendly pressure of her outstretched hand. "Is all well with you?" "Sit clown, sit down, my dear Fedor Ivanovich. Oh, how delighted I am! But first let me introduce my daughter Liza." "I have already introduced myself to Lizaveta Mikhailovna," interrupted Lavretsky. "Monsieur Panshine--Sergius Petrovich Gedeonovsky. But do sit down. I look at you, and, really, I can scarcely trust my eyes. But tell me about your health; is it good?" "I am quite well, as you can see. And you, too, cousin--if I can say so without bringing you bad luck[A]--you are none the worse for these seven years."