looked at her. Lisa's eyes were fixed directly on him, and expressed
displeasure. There was no smile on her lips, her whole face looked stern
and even mournful.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Why did you not keep your word?" she said. "I showed you Christopher
Fedoritch's cantata on the express condition that you said nothing about
it to him?"

"I beg your pardon, Lisaveta Mihalovna, the words slipped out unawares."

"You have hurt his feelings and mine too. Now he will not trust even
me."

"How could I help it, Lisaveta Mihalovna? Ever since I was a little boy
I could never see a German without wanting to teaze him."

"How can you say that, Vladimir Nikolaitch? This German is poor,
lonely, and broken-down--have you no pity for him? Can you wish to teaze
him?"

Panshin was a little taken aback.

"You are right, Lisaveta Mihalovna," he declared. "It's my everlasting
thoughtlessness that's to blame. No, don't contradict me; I know myself.
So much harm has come to me from my want of thought. It's owing to that
failing that I am thought to be an egoist."

Panshin paused. With whatever subject he began a conversation, he