I too am an artist, though a poor one--and that--I mean that I'm a poor artist, I shall show directly.

Let us begin." "Very well, let us begin," said Lisa.
The first adagio went fairly successfully though Panshin made more than one false note.

His own compositions and what he had practised thoroughly he played very nicely, but he played at sight badly.

So the second part of the sonata--a rather quick allegro--broke down completely; at the twentieth bar, Panshin, who was two bars behind, gave in, and pushed his chair back with a laugh.
"No!" he cried, "I can't play to-day; it's a good thing Lemm did not hear us; he would have had a fit." Lisa got up, shut the piano, and turned round to Panshin.
"What are we going to do ?" she asked.
"That's just like you, that question! You can never sit with your hands idle.

Well, if you like let us sketch, since it's not quite dark.
Perhaps the other muse, the muse of painting--what was her name?
I have forgotten...