Liza | Page 8

in reality she has nothing but polkas and waltzes. However, I have already written to Moscow, and you shall have the overture in a week."
"By the way," he continued, "I wrote a new romance yesterday; the words are mine as well as the music. Would you like me to sing it to you? Madame Bielenitsine thought it very pretty, but her judgment is not worth much. I want to know your opinion of it. But, after all, I think I had better sing it by-and-by."
"Why by-and-by?" exclaimed Maria Dmitrievna, "why not now?"
"To hear is to obey," answered Panshine, with a sweet and serene smile, which came and went quickly; and then, having pushed a chair up to the piano, he sat down, struck a few chords, and began to sing the following romance, pronouncing the words very distinctly
Amid pale clouds, above the earth, The moon rides high, And o'er the sea a magic light Pours from the sky.
My Spirit's waves, as towards the moon, Towards thee, love, flow: Its waters stirred by thee alone In weal or woe.
My heart replete with love that grieves But yields no cry, I suffer--cold as yonder moon Thou passest by.
Panshine sang the second stanza with more than usual expression and feeling; in the stormy accompaniment might be heard the rolling of the waves. After the words, "I suffer!" he breathed a light sigh, and with downcast eyes let his voice die gradually away. When he had finished; Liza praised the air, Maria Dmitrievna said, "Charming!" and Gedeonovsky exclaimed, "Enchanting!--the words and the music are equally enchanting!" Lenochka kept her eyes fixed on the singer with childish reverence. In a word, the composition of the young dilettante delighted all who were in the room. But outside the drawing-room door, in the vestibule, there stood, looking on the floor, an old man who had just come into the house, to whom, judging from the expression of his face and the movements of his shoulders, Panshine's romance, though really pretty, did not afford much pleasure. After waiting a little, and having dusted his boots with a coarse handkerchief, he suddenly squeezed up his eyes, morosely compressed his lips, gave his already curved back an extra bend, and slowly entered the drawing-room.
"Ah! Christophor Fedorovich, how do you do?" Panshine was the first to exclaim, as he jumped up quickly from his chair. "I didn't suspect you were there. I wouldn't for any thing have ventured to sing my romance before you. I know you are no admirer of the light style in music."
"I didn't hear it," said the new-comer, in imperfect Russian. Then, having bowed to all the party, he stood still in an awkward attitude in the middle of the room.
"I suppose, Monsieur Lemm," said Maria Dmitrievna, "you have come to give Liza a music lesson."
"No; not Lizaveta Mikhailovna, but Elena Miknailovna."
"Oh, indeed! very good. Lenochka, go up-stairs with Monsieur Lemm."
The old man was about to follow the little girl, when Panshine stopped him.
"Don't go away when the lesson is over, Christopher Fedorovich," he said. "Lizaveta Mikhailovna and I are going to play a duet--one of Beethoven's sonatas."
The old man muttered something to himself, but Panshine continued in German, pronouncing the words very badly--
"Lizaveta Mikhailovna has shown me the sacred cantata which you have dedicated to her--a very beautiful piece! I beg you will not suppose I am unable to appreciate serious music. Quite the reverse. It is sometimes tedious; but, on the other hand, it is extremely edifying."
The old man blushed to the ears, cast a side glance at Liza, and went hastily out of the room.
Maria Dmitrievna asked Panshine to repeat his romance; but he declared that he did not like to offend the ears of the scientific German, and proposed to Liza to begin Beethoven's sonata. On this, Maria Dmitrievna sighed, and, on her part, proposed a stroll in the garden to Gedeonovsky.
"I want to have a little more chat with you," she said, "about our poor Fedia, and to ask for your advice."
Gedeonovsky smiled and bowed, took up with two fingers his hat, on the brim of which his gloves were neatly laid out, and retired with Maria Dmitrievna.
Panshine and Eliza remained in the room. She fetched the sonata, and spread it out. Both sat down to the piano in silence. From up-stairs there came the feeble sound of scales, played by Lenochka's uncertain fingers.
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Note to p. 36.
It is possible that M. Panshine may have been inspired by Heine's verses:--
Wie des Mondes Abbild zittert In den wilden Meereswogen, Und er selber still und sicher Wandelt an dem Himmelshogen.
Also wandelst du, Geliebte, Still und sicher, und es zittert Nur dein Abbild mir im Herzen, Weil mein eignes Herz erschüttert.

V.
Christoph Theodor Gottlieb Lemm was born in 1786, in the kingdom of