The old man was about to follow the little girl, but Panshin stopped
him.

"Don't go after the lesson, Christopher Fedoritch," he said. "Lisa
Mihalovna and I are going to play a duet of Beethoven's sonata."

The old man muttered some reply, and Panshin continued in German,
mispronouncing the words--

"Lisaveta Mihalovna showed me the religious cantata you dedicated to
her--a beautiful thing! Pray, do not suppose that I cannot appreciate
serious music--quite the contrary: it is tedious sometimes, but then it
is very elevating."

The old man crimsoned to his ears, and with a sidelong look at Lisa, he
hurriedly went out of the room.

Marya Dmitrievna asked Panshin to sing his song again; but he protested
that he did not wish to torture the ears of the musical German, and
suggested to Lisa that they should attack Beethoven's sonata. Then Marya
Dmitrievna heaved a sigh, and in her turn suggested to Gedeonovsky a
walk in the garden. "I should like," she said, "to have a little more
talk, and to consult you about our poor Fedya." Gedeonovsky bowed with a
smirk, and with two fingers picked up his hat, on the brim of which his
gloves had been tidily laid, and went away with Marya Dmitrievna.
Panshin and Lisa remained alone in the room; she fetched the sonata, and
opened it; both seated themselves at the piano in silence. Overhead were
heard the faint sounds of scales, played by the uncertain fingers of
Lenotchka.