prevented him from leaving the room.

"Where are you going, dear Christoph Fedorovich? Won't you stay and
take tea?"

"I am going home," said Lemm, in a surly voice; "my head aches."

"What nonsense! do remain. We will have a talk about Shakspeare."

"My head aches," repeated the old man.

"We tried to play Beethoven's sonata without you," continued Panshine,
caressingly throwing his arm over the old man's shoulder and smiling
sweetly; "but we didn't succeed in bringing it to a harmonious
conclusion. Just imagine, I couldn't play two consecutive notes
right."

"You had better have played your romance over again," replied Lemm;
then, escaping from Panshine's hold he went out of the room.

Liza ran after him, and caught him on the steps.

"Christopher Fedorovich, I want to speak to you," she said in German,
as led him across the short green grass to the gate. "I have done you
a wrong--forgive me."

Lemm made no reply.

"I showed your cantata to Vladimir Nikolaevich; I was sure he would
appreciate it, and, indeed, he was exceedingly pleased with it."