THE NEXT morning the master of the house and his guest drank tea in the garden under an old lime-tree. Maestro! said Lavretsky among other things, you will soon have to compose a triumphal cantata.
No, she does not love him, that is to say, she is very pure in heart, and does not know herself what it means love. Madame von Kalitin tells her that he is a fine young man, and she obeys Madame von Kalitin because she is still quite a child, though she is nineteen; she says her prayers in the morning and in the eveningand that is very well; but she does not love him. She can only love what is beautiful, and he is not, that is, his soul is not beautiful.
Lavretsky felt sorry for the old man; he begged his pardon. After morning tea, Lemm played him his cantata, and after dinner, at Lavretskys initiative, there was again talk of Lisa. Lavretsky listened to him with attention and curiosity.
What do you say, Christopher Fedoritch, he said at last, you see everything here seems in good order now, and the garden is in full bloom, couldnt we invite her over here for a day with her mother and my old aunt eh? Would you like it?