remember, my landscape there is not finished."

Lisa went into the other room to fetch the album, and Panshin, left
alone, drew a cambric handkerchief out of his pocket, and rubbed his
nails and looked as it were critically at his hands. He had beautiful
white hands; on the second finger of his left hand he wore a spiral gold
ring. Lisa came back; Panshin sat down at the window, and opened the
album.

"Ah!" he exclaimed: "I see that you have begun to copy my
landscape--and capitally too. Excellent! only just here--give me a
pencil--the shadows are not put in strongly enough. Look."

And Panshin with a flourish added a few long strokes. He was for ever
drawing the same landscape: in the foreground large disheveled trees, a
stretch of meadow in the background, and jagged mountains on the
horizon. Lisa looked over his shoulders at his work.

"In drawing, just as in life generally," observed Panshin, holding his
head to right and to left, "lightness and boldness--are the great
things."

At that instant Lemm came into the room, and with a stiff bow was about
to leave it; but Panshin, throwing aside album and pencils, placed
himself in his way.

"Where are you doing, dear Christopher Fedoritch? Aren't you going to
stay and have tea with us?"

"I go home," answered Lemm in a surly voice; "my head aches."