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diff --git a/2142-h/2142-h.htm b/2142-h/2142-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..77e24ca --- /dev/null +++ b/2142-h/2142-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5051 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Childhood, by Leo Tolstoy + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Childhood, by Leo Tolstoy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Childhood + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Release Date: March 21, 2006 [EBook #2142] +Last Updated: September 11, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDHOOD *** + + + + +Produced by Martin Adamson and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + CHILDHOOD + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Leo Tolstoy + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by C.J. Hogarth + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a> THE TUTOR, KARL + IVANITCH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a> MAMMA + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a> PAPA <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV </a> LESSONS <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0005"> V </a> THE IDIOT <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI </a> PREPARATIONS FOR THE CHASE + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VII </a> THE HUNT + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VIII </a> WE PLAY + GAMES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> IX </a> A FIRST + ESSAY IN LOVE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> X </a> + THE SORT OF MAN MY FATHER WAS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> XI + </a> IN THE DRAWING-ROOM AND THE STUDY <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0012"> XII </a> GRISHA <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0013"> XIII </a> NATALIA SAVISHNA <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIV </a> THE PARTING <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XV </a> CHILDHOOD <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0016"> XVI </a> VERSE-MAKING <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVII </a> THE PRINCESS KORNAKOFF + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVIII </a> PRINCE IVAN + IVANOVITCH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XIX </a> + THE IWINS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XX </a> + PREPARATIONS FOR THE PARTY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XXI </a> + BEFORE THE MAZURKA <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> + XXII </a> THE MAZURKA <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> + XXIII </a> AFTER THE MAZURKA <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0024"> XXIV </a> IN BED <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXV </a> THE LETTER <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXVI </a> WHAT AWAITED US AT THE + COUNTRY-HOUSE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> XXVII </a> + GRIEF <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> XXVIII </a> + SAD RECOLLECTIONS + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + I — THE TUTOR, KARL IVANITCH + </h2> + <p> + On the 12th of August, 18— (just three days after my tenth birthday, + when I had been given such wonderful presents), I was awakened at seven + o’clock in the morning by Karl Ivanitch slapping the wall close to my head + with a fly-flap made of sugar paper and a stick. He did this so roughly + that he hit the image of my patron saint suspended to the oaken back of my + bed, and the dead fly fell down on my curls. I peeped out from under the + coverlet, steadied the still shaking image with my hand, flicked the dead + fly on to the floor, and gazed at Karl Ivanitch with sleepy, wrathful + eyes. He, in a parti-coloured wadded dressing-gown fastened about the + waist with a wide belt of the same material, a red knitted cap adorned + with a tassel, and soft slippers of goat skin, went on walking round the + walls and taking aim at, and slapping, flies. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose,” I thought to myself, “that I am only a small boy, yet why + should he disturb me? Why does he not go killing flies around Woloda’s + bed? No; Woloda is older than I, and I am the youngest of the family, so + he torments me. That is what he thinks of all day long—how to tease + me. He knows very well that he has woken me up and frightened me, but he + pretends not to notice it. Disgusting brute! And his dressing-gown and cap + and tassel too—they are all of them disgusting.” + </p> + <p> + While I was thus inwardly venting my wrath upon Karl Ivanitch, he had + passed to his own bedstead, looked at his watch (which hung suspended in a + little shoe sewn with bugles), and deposited the fly-flap on a nail, then, + evidently in the most cheerful mood possible, he turned round to us. + </p> + <p> + “Get up, children! It is quite time, and your mother is already in the + drawing-room,” he exclaimed in his strong German accent. Then he crossed + over to me, sat down at my feet, and took his snuff-box out of his pocket. + I pretended to be asleep. Karl Ivanitch sneezed, wiped his nose, flicked + his fingers, and began amusing himself by teasing me and tickling my toes + as he said with a smile, “Well, well, little lazy one!” + </p> + <p> + For all my dread of being tickled, I determined not to get out of bed or + to answer him, but hid my head deeper in the pillow, kicked out with all + my strength, and strained every nerve to keep from laughing. + </p> + <p> + “How kind he is, and how fond of us!” I thought to myself. “Yet to think + that I could be hating him so just now!” + </p> + <p> + I felt angry, both with myself and with Karl Ivanitch, I wanted to laugh + and to cry at the same time, for my nerves were all on edge. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me alone, Karl!” I exclaimed at length, with tears in my eyes, as I + raised my head from beneath the bed-clothes. + </p> + <p> + Karl Ivanitch was taken aback. He left off tickling my feet, and asked me + kindly what the matter was. Had I had a disagreeable dream? His good + German face and the sympathy with which he sought to know the cause of my + tears made them flow the faster. I felt conscience-stricken, and could not + understand how, only a minute ago, I had been hating Karl, and thinking + his dressing-gown and cap and tassel disgusting. On the contrary, they + looked eminently lovable now. Even the tassel seemed another token of his + goodness. I replied that I was crying because I had had a bad dream, and + had seen Mamma dead and being buried. Of course it was a mere invention, + since I did not remember having dreamt anything at all that night, but the + truth was that Karl’s sympathy as he tried to comfort and reassure me had + gradually made me believe that I HAD dreamt such a horrible dream, and so + weep the more—though from a different cause to the one he imagined. + </p> + <p> + When Karl Ivanitch had left me, I sat up in bed and proceeded to draw my + stockings over my little feet. The tears had quite dried now, yet the + mournful thought of the invented dream was still haunting me a little. + Presently Uncle [This term is often applied by children to old servants in + Russia] Nicola came in—a neat little man who was always grave, + methodical, and respectful, as well as a great friend of Karl’s. He + brought with him our clothes and boots—at least, boots for Woloda, + and for myself the old detestable, be-ribanded shoes. In his presence I + felt ashamed to cry, and, moreover, the morning sun was shining so gaily + through the window, and Woloda, standing at the washstand as he mimicked + Maria Ivanovna (my sister’s governess), was laughing so loud and so long, + that even the serious Nicola—a towel over his shoulder, the soap in + one hand, and the basin in the other—could not help smiling as he + said, “Will you please let me wash you, Vladimir Petrovitch?” I had + cheered up completely. + </p> + <p> + “Are you nearly ready?” came Karl’s voice from the schoolroom. The tone of + that voice sounded stern now, and had nothing in it of the kindness which + had just touched me so much. In fact, in the schoolroom Karl was + altogether a different man from what he was at other times. There he was + the tutor. I washed and dressed myself hurriedly, and, a brush still in my + hand as I smoothed my wet hair, answered to his call. Karl, with + spectacles on nose and a book in his hand, was sitting, as usual, between + the door and one of the windows. To the left of the door were two shelves—one + of them the children’s (that is to say, ours), and the other one Karl’s + own. Upon ours were heaped all sorts of books—lesson books and play + books—some standing up and some lying down. The only two standing + decorously against the wall were two large volumes of a Histoire des + Voyages, in red binding. On that shelf could be seen books thick and thin + and books large and small, as well as covers without books and books + without covers, since everything got crammed up together anyhow when play + time arrived and we were told to put the “library” (as Karl called these + shelves) in order. The collection of books on his own shelf was, if not so + numerous as ours, at least more varied. Three of them in particular I + remember, namely, a German pamphlet (minus a cover) on Manuring Cabbages + in Kitchen-Gardens, a History of the Seven Years’ War (bound in parchment + and burnt at one corner), and a Course of Hydrostatics. Though Karl passed + so much of his time in reading that he had injured his sight by doing so, + he never read anything beyond these books and The Northern Bee. + </p> + <p> + Another article on Karl’s shelf I remember well. This was a round piece of + cardboard fastened by a screw to a wooden stand, with a sort of comic + picture of a lady and a hairdresser glued to the cardboard. Karl was very + clever at fixing pieces of cardboard together, and had devised this + contrivance for shielding his weak eyes from any very strong light. + </p> + <p> + I can see him before me now—the tall figure in its wadded + dressing-gown and red cap (a few grey hairs visible beneath the latter) + sitting beside the table; the screen with the hairdresser shading his + face; one hand holding a book, and the other one resting on the arm of the + chair. Before him lie his watch, with a huntsman painted on the dial, a + check cotton handkerchief, a round black snuff-box, and a green + spectacle-case. The neatness and orderliness of all these articles show + clearly that Karl Ivanitch has a clear conscience and a quiet mind. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, when tired of running about the salon downstairs, I would steal + on tiptoe to the schoolroom and find Karl sitting alone in his armchair + as, with a grave and quiet expression on his face, he perused one of his + favourite books. Yet sometimes, also, there were moments when he was not + reading, and when the spectacles had slipped down his large aquiline nose, + and the blue, half-closed eyes and faintly smiling lips seemed to be + gazing before them with a curious expression. All would be quiet in the + room—not a sound being audible save his regular breathing and the + ticking of the watch with the hunter painted on the dial. He would not see + me, and I would stand at the door and think: “Poor, poor old man! There + are many of us, and we can play together and be happy, but he sits there + all alone, and has nobody to be fond of him. Surely he speaks truth when + he says that he is an orphan. And the story of his life, too—how + terrible it is! I remember him telling it to Nicola. How dreadful to be in + his position!” Then I would feel so sorry for him that I would go to him, + and take his hand, and say, “Dear Karl Ivanitch!” and he would be visibly + delighted whenever I spoke to him like this, and would look much brighter. + </p> + <p> + On the second wall of the schoolroom hung some maps—mostly torn, but + glued together again by Karl’s hand. On the third wall (in the middle of + which stood the door) hung, on one side of the door, a couple of rulers + (one of them ours—much bescratched, and the other one his—quite + a new one), with, on the further side of the door, a blackboard on which + our more serious faults were marked by circles and our lesser faults by + crosses. To the left of the blackboard was the corner in which we had to + kneel when naughty. How well I remember that corner—the shutter on + the stove, the ventilator above it, and the noise which it made when + turned! Sometimes I would be made to stay in that corner till my back and + knees were aching all over, and I would think to myself. “Has Karl + Ivanitch forgotten me? He goes on sitting quietly in his arm-chair and + reading his Hydrostatics, while I—!” Then, to remind him of my + presence, I would begin gently turning the ventilator round. Or scratching + some plaster off the wall; but if by chance an extra large piece fell upon + the floor, the fright of it was worse than any punishment. I would glance + round at Karl, but he would still be sitting there quietly, book in hand, + and pretending that he had noticed nothing. + </p> + <p> + In the middle of the room stood a table, covered with a torn black + oilcloth so much cut about with penknives that the edge of the table + showed through. Round the table stood unpainted chairs which, through use, + had attained a high degree of polish. The fourth and last wall contained + three windows, from the first of which the view was as follows. + Immediately beneath it there ran a high road on which every irregularity, + every pebble, every rut was known and dear to me. Beside the road + stretched a row of lime-trees, through which glimpses could be caught of a + wattled fence, with a meadow with farm buildings on one side of it and a + wood on the other—the whole bounded by the keeper’s hut at the + further end of the meadow. The next window to the right overlooked the + part of the terrace where the “grownups” of the family used to sit before + luncheon. Sometimes, when Karl was correcting our exercises, I would look + out of that window and see Mamma’s dark hair and the backs of some persons + with her, and hear the murmur of their talking and laughter. Then I would + feel vexed that I could not be there too, and think to myself, “When am I + going to be grown up, and to have no more lessons, but sit with the people + whom I love instead of with these horrid dialogues in my hand?” Then my + anger would change to sadness, and I would fall into such a reverie that I + never heard Karl when he scolded me for my mistakes. + </p> + <p> + At last, on the morning of which I am speaking, Karl Ivanitch took off his + dressing-gown, put on his blue frockcoat with its creased and crumpled + shoulders, adjusted his tie before the looking-glass, and took us down to + greet Mamma. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II — MAMMA + </h2> + <p> + Mamma was sitting in the drawing-room and making tea. In one hand she was + holding the tea-pot, while with the other one she was drawing water from + the urn and letting it drip into the tray. Yet though she appeared to be + noticing what she doing, in reality she noted neither this fact nor our + entry. + </p> + <p> + However vivid be one’s recollection of the past, any attempt to recall the + features of a beloved being shows them to one’s vision as through a mist + of tears—dim and blurred. Those tears are the tears of the + imagination. When I try to recall Mamma as she was then, I see, true, her + brown eyes, expressive always of love and kindness, the small mole on her + neck below where the small hairs grow, her white embroidered collar, and + the delicate, fresh hand which so often caressed me, and which I so often + kissed; but her general appearance escapes me altogether. + </p> + <p> + To the left of the sofa stood an English piano, at which my dark-haired + sister Lubotshka was sitting and playing with manifest effort (for her + hands were rosy from a recent washing in cold water) Clementi’s “Etudes.” + Then eleven years old, she was dressed in a short cotton frock and white + lace-frilled trousers, and could take her octaves only in arpeggio. Beside + her was sitting Maria Ivanovna, in a cap adorned with pink ribbons and a + blue shawl. Her face was red and cross, and it assumed an expression even + more severe when Karl Ivanitch entered the room. Looking angrily at him + without answering his bow, she went on beating time with her foot and + counting, “One, two, three—one, two, three,” more loudly and + commandingly than ever. + </p> + <p> + Karl Ivanitch paid no attention to this rudeness, but went, as usual, with + German politeness to kiss Mamma’s hand. She drew herself up, shook her + head as though by the movement to chase away sad thoughts from her, and + gave Karl her hand, kissing him on his wrinkled temple as he bent his head + in salutation. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, dear Karl Ivanitch,” she said in German, and then, still + using the same language asked him how we (the children) had slept. Karl + Ivanitch was deaf in one ear, and the added noise of the piano now + prevented him from hearing anything at all. He moved nearer to the sofa, + and, leaning one hand upon the table and lifting his cap above his head, + said with, a smile which in those days always seemed to me the perfection + of politeness: “You, will excuse me, will you not, Natalia Nicolaevna?” + </p> + <p> + The reason for this was that, to avoid catching cold, Karl never took off + his red cap, but invariably asked permission, on entering the + drawing-room, to retain it on his head. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, pray replace it, Karl Ivanitch,” said Mamma, bending towards him and + raising her voice, “But I asked you whether the children had slept well?” + </p> + <p> + Still he did not hear, but, covering his bald head again with the red cap, + went on smiling more than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Stop a moment, Mimi,” said Mamma (now smiling also) to Maria Ivanovna. + “It is impossible to hear anything.” + </p> + <p> + How beautiful Mamma’s face was when she smiled! It made her so infinitely + more charming, and everything around her seemed to grow brighter! If in + the more painful moments of my life I could have seen that smile before my + eyes, I should never have known what grief is. In my opinion, it is in the + smile of a face that the essence of what we call beauty lies. If the smile + heightens the charm of the face, then the face is a beautiful one. If the + smile does not alter the face, then the face is an ordinary one. But if + the smile spoils the face, then the face is an ugly one indeed. + </p> + <p> + Mamma took my head between her hands, bent it gently backwards, looked at + me gravely, and said: “You have been crying this morning?” + </p> + <p> + I did not answer. She kissed my eyes, and said again in German: “Why did + you cry?” + </p> + <p> + When talking to us with particular intimacy she always used this language, + which she knew to perfection. + </p> + <p> + “I cried about a dream, Mamma” I replied, remembering the invented vision, + and trembling involuntarily at the recollection. + </p> + <p> + Karl Ivanitch confirmed my words, but said nothing as to the subject of + the dream. Then, after a little conversation on the weather, in which Mimi + also took part, Mamma laid some lumps of sugar on the tray for one or two + of the more privileged servants, and crossed over to her embroidery frame, + which stood near one of the windows. + </p> + <p> + “Go to Papa now, children,” she said, “and ask him to come to me before he + goes to the home farm.” + </p> + <p> + Then the music, the counting, and the wrathful looks from Mimi began + again, and we went off to see Papa. Passing through the room which had + been known ever since Grandpapa’s time as “the pantry,” we entered the + study. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III — PAPA + </h2> + <p> + He was standing near his writing-table, and pointing angrily to some + envelopes, papers, and little piles of coin upon it as he addressed some + observations to the bailiff, Jakoff Michaelovitch, who was standing in his + usual place (that is to say, between the door and the barometer) and + rapidly closing and unclosing the fingers of the hand which he held behind + his back. The more angry Papa grew, the more rapidly did those fingers + twirl, and when Papa ceased speaking they came to rest also. Yet, as soon + as ever Jakoff himself began to talk, they flew here, there, and + everywhere with lightning rapidity. These movements always appeared to me + an index of Jakoff’s secret thoughts, though his face was invariably + placid, and expressive alike of dignity and submissiveness, as who should + say, “I am right, yet let it be as you wish.” On seeing us, Papa said, + “Directly—wait a moment,” and looked towards the door as a hint for + it to be shut. + </p> + <p> + “Gracious heavens! What can be the matter with you to-day, Jakoff?” he + went on with a hitch of one shoulder (a habit of his). “This envelope here + with the 800 roubles enclosed,”—Jacob took out a set of tablets, put + down “800” and remained looking at the figures while he waited for what + was to come next—“is for expenses during my absence. Do you + understand? From the mill you ought to receive 1000 roubles. Is not that + so? And from the Treasury mortgage you ought to receive some 8000 roubles. + From the hay—of which, according to your calculations, we shall be + able to sell 7000 poods [The pood = 40 lbs.]at 45 copecks a piece there + should come in 3000. Consequently the sum-total that you ought to have in + hand soon is—how much?—12,000 roubles. Is that right?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” answered Jakoff. Yet by the extreme rapidity with which his + fingers were twitching I could see that he had an objection to make. Papa + went on: + </p> + <p> + “Well, of this money you will send 10,000 roubles to the Petrovskoe local + council. As for the money already at the office, you will remit it to me, + and enter it as spent on this present date.” Jakoff turned over the tablet + marked “12,000,” and put down “21,000”—seeming, by his action, to + imply that 12,000 roubles had been turned over in the same fashion as he + had turned the tablet. “And this envelope with the enclosed money,” + concluded Papa, “you will deliver for me to the person to whom it is + addressed.” + </p> + <p> + I was standing close to the table, and could see the address. It was “To + Karl Ivanitch Mayer.” Perhaps Papa had an idea that I had read something + which I ought not, for he touched my shoulder with his hand and made me + aware, by a slight movement, that I must withdraw from the table. Not sure + whether the movement was meant for a caress or a command, I kissed the + large, sinewy hand which rested upon my shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Jakoff. “And what are your orders about the accounts for + the money from Chabarovska?” (Chabarovska was Mamma’s village.) + </p> + <p> + “Only that they are to remain in my office, and not to be taken thence + without my express instructions.” + </p> + <p> + For a minute or two Jakoff was silent. Then his fingers began to twitch + with extraordinary rapidity, and, changing the expression of deferential + vacancy with which he had listened to his orders for one of shrewd + intelligence, he turned his tablets back and spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Will you allow me to inform you, Peter Alexandritch,” he said, with + frequent pauses between his words, “that, however much you wish it, it is + out of the question to repay the local council now. You enumerated some + items, I think, as to what ought to come in from the mortgage, the mill, + and the hay (he jotted down each of these items on his tablets again as he + spoke). Yet I fear that we must have made a mistake somewhere in the + accounts.” Here he paused a while, and looked gravely at Papa. + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, will you be good enough to look for yourself? There is the account + for the mill. The miller has been to me twice to ask for time, and I am + afraid that he has no money whatever in hand. He is here now. Would you + like to speak to him?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Tell me what he says,” replied Papa, showing by a movement of his + head that he had no desire to have speech with the miller. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is easy enough to guess what he says. He declares that there is + no grinding to be got now, and that his last remaining money has gone to + pay for the dam. What good would it do for us to turn him out? As to what + you were pleased to say about the mortgage, you yourself are aware that + your money there is locked up and cannot be recovered at a moment’s + notice. I was sending a load of flour to Ivan Afanovitch to-day, and sent + him a letter as well, to which he replies that he would have been glad to + oblige you, Peter Alexandritch, were it not that the matter is out of his + hands now, and that all the circumstances show that it would take you at + least two months to withdraw the money. From the hay I understood you to + estimate a return of 3000 roubles?” (Here Jakoff jotted down “3000” on his + tablets, and then looked for a moment from the figures to Papa with a + peculiar expression on his face.) “Well, surely you see for yourself how + little that is? And even then we should lose if we were to sell the stuff + now, for you must know that—” + </p> + <p> + It was clear that he would have had many other arguments to adduce had not + Papa interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot make any change in my arrangements,” said Papa. “Yet if there + should REALLY have to be any delay in the recovery of these sums, we could + borrow what we wanted from the Chabarovska funds.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir.” The expression of Jakoff’s face and the way in which he + twitched his fingers showed that this order had given him great + satisfaction. He was a serf, and a most zealous, devoted one, but, like + all good bailiffs, exacting and parsimonious to a degree in the interests + of his master. Moreover, he had some queer notions of his own. He was + forever endeavouring to increase his master’s property at the expense of + his mistress’s, and to prove that it would be impossible to avoid using + the rents from her estates for the benefit of Petrovskoe (my father’s + village, and the place where we lived). This point he had now gained and + was delighted in consequence. + </p> + <p> + Papa then greeted ourselves, and said that if we stayed much longer in the + country we should become lazy boys; that we were growing quite big now, + and must set about doing lessons in earnest, + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you know that I am starting for Moscow to-night?” he went on, + “and that I am going to take you with me? You will live with Grandmamma, + but Mamma and the girls will remain here. You know, too, I am sure, that + Mamma’s one consolation will be to hear that you are doing your lessons + well and pleasing every one around you.” + </p> + <p> + The preparations which had been in progress for some days past had made us + expect some unusual event, but this news left us thunderstruck, Woloda + turned red, and, with a shaking voice, delivered Mamma’s message to Papa. + </p> + <p> + “So this was what my dream foreboded!” I thought to myself. “God send that + there come nothing worse!” I felt terribly sorry to have to leave Mamma, + but at the same rejoiced to think that I should soon be grown up, “If we + are going to-day, we shall probably have no lessons to do, and that will + be splendid. However, I am sorry for Karl Ivanitch, for he will certainly + be dismissed now. That was why that envelope had been prepared for him. I + think I would almost rather stay and do lessons here than leave Mamma or + hurt poor Karl. He is miserable enough already.” + </p> + <p> + As these thoughts crossed my mind I stood looking sadly at the black + ribbons on my shoes. After a few words to Karl Ivanitch about the + depression of the barometer and an injunction to Jakoff not to feed the + hounds, since a farewell meet was to be held after luncheon, Papa + disappointed my hopes by sending us off to lessons—though he also + consoled us by promising to take us out hunting later. + </p> + <p> + On my way upstairs I made a digression to the terrace. Near the door + leading on to it Papa’s favourite hound, Milka, was lying in the sun and + blinking her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Miloshka,” I cried as I caressed her and kissed her nose, “we are going + away today. Good-bye. Perhaps we shall never see each other again.” I was + crying and laughing at the same time. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV — LESSONS + </h2> + <p> + Karl Ivanitch was in a bad temper. This was clear from his contracted + brows, and from the way in which he flung his frockcoat into a drawer, + angrily donned his old dressing-gown again, and made deep dints with his + nails to mark the place in the book of dialogues to which we were to learn + by heart. Woloda began working diligently, but I was too distracted to do + anything at all. For a long while I stared vacantly at the book; but tears + at the thought of the impending separation kept rushing to my eyes and + preventing me from reading a single word. When at length the time came to + repeat the dialogues to Karl (who listened to us with blinking eyes—a + very bad sign), I had no sooner reached the place where some one asks, “Wo + kommen Sie her?” (“Where do you come from?”) and some one else answers + him, “Ich komme vom Kaffeehaus” (“I come from the coffee-house”), than I + burst into tears and, for sobbing, could not pronounce, “Haben Sie die + Zeitung nicht gelesen?” (“Have you not read the newspaper?”) at all. Next, + when we came to our writing lesson, the tears kept falling from my eyes + and, making a mess on the paper, as though some one had written on + blotting-paper with water, Karl was very angry. He ordered me to go down + upon my knees, declared that it was all obstinacy and “puppet-comedy + playing” (a favourite expression of his) on my part, threatened me with + the ruler, and commanded me to say that I was sorry. Yet for sobbing and + crying I could not get a word out. At last—conscious, perhaps, that + he was unjust—he departed to Nicola’s pantry, and slammed the door + behind him. Nevertheless their conversation there carried to the + schoolroom. + </p> + <p> + “Have you heard that the children are going to Moscow, Nicola?” said Karl. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. How could I help hearing it?” + </p> + <p> + At this point Nicola seemed to get up for Karl said, “Sit down, Nicola,” + and then locked the door. However, I came out of my corner and crept to + the door to listen. + </p> + <p> + “However much you may do for people, and however fond of them you may be, + never expect any gratitude, Nicola,” said Karl warmly. Nicola, who was + shoe-cobbling by the window, nodded his head in assent. + </p> + <p> + “Twelve years have I lived in this house,” went on Karl, lifting his eyes + and his snuff-box towards the ceiling, “and before God I can say that I + have loved them, and worked for them, even more than if they had been my + own children. You recollect, Nicola, when Woloda had the fever? You + recollect how, for nine days and nights, I never closed my eyes as I sat + beside his bed? Yes, at that time I was ‘the dear, good Karl Ivanitch’—I + was wanted then; but now”—and he smiled ironically—“the + children are growing up, and must go to study in earnest. Perhaps they + never learnt anything with me, Nicola? Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure they did,” replied Nicola, laying his awl down and + straightening a piece of thread with his hands. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am wanted no longer, and am to be turned out. What good are + promises and gratitude? Natalia Nicolaevna”—here he laid his hand + upon his heart—“I love and revere, but what can SHE I do here? Her + will is powerless in this house.” + </p> + <p> + He flung a strip of leather on the floor with an angry gesture. “Yet I + know who has been playing tricks here, and why I am no longer wanted. It + is because I do not flatter and toady as certain people do. I am in the + habit of speaking the truth in all places and to all persons,” he + continued proudly, “God be with these children, for my leaving them will + benefit them little, whereas I—well, by God’s help I may be able to + earn a crust of bread somewhere. Nicola, eh?” + </p> + <p> + Nicola raised his head and looked at Karl as though to consider whether he + would indeed be able to earn a crust of bread, but he said nothing. Karl + said a great deal more of the same kind—in particular how much + better his services had been appreciated at a certain general’s where he + had formerly lived (I regretted to hear that). Likewise he spoke of + Saxony, his parents, his friend the tailor, Schonheit (beauty), and so on. + </p> + <p> + I sympathised with his distress, and felt dreadfully sorry that he and + Papa (both of whom I loved about equally) had had a difference. Then I + returned to my corner, crouched down upon my heels, and fell to thinking + how a reconciliation between them might be effected. + </p> + <p> + Returning to the study, Karl ordered me to get up and prepare to write + from dictation. When I was ready he sat down with a dignified air in his + arm-chair, and in a voice which seemed to come from a profound abyss began + to dictate: “Von al-len Lei-den-shaf-ten die grau-samste ist. Have you + written that?” He paused, took a pinch of snuff, and began again: “Die + grausamste ist die Un-dank-bar-keit [The most cruel of all passions is + ingratitude.] a capital U, mind.” + </p> + <p> + The last word written, I looked at him, for him to go on. + </p> + <p> + “Punctum” (stop), he concluded, with a faintly perceptible smile, as he + signed to us to hand him our copy-books. + </p> + <p> + Several times, and in several different tones, and always with an + expression of the greatest satisfaction, did he read out that sentence, + which expressed his predominant thought at the moment. Then he set us to + learn a lesson in history, and sat down near the window. His face did not + look so depressed now, but, on the contrary, expressed eloquently the + satisfaction of a man who had avenged himself for an injury dealt him. + </p> + <p> + By this time it was a quarter to one o’clock, but Karl Ivanitch never + thought of releasing us. He merely set us a new lesson to learn. My + fatigue and hunger were increasing in equal proportions, so that I eagerly + followed every sign of the approach of luncheon. First came the housemaid + with a cloth to wipe the plates. Next, the sound of crockery resounded in + the dining-room, as the table was moved and chairs placed round it. After + that, Mimi, Lubotshka, and Katenka. (Katenka was Mimi’s daughter, and + twelve years old) came in from the garden, but Foka (the servant who + always used to come and announce luncheon) was not yet to be seen. Only + when he entered was it lawful to throw one’s books aside and run + downstairs. + </p> + <p> + Hark! Steps resounded on the staircase, but they were not Foka’s. Foka’s I + had learnt to study, and knew the creaking of his boots well. The door + opened, and a figure unknown to me made its appearance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V — THE IDIOT + </h2> + <p> + The man who now entered the room was about fifty years old, with a pale, + attenuated face pitted with smallpox, long grey hair, and a scanty beard + of a reddish hue. Likewise he was so tall that, on coming through the + doorway, he was forced not only to bend his head, but to incline his whole + body forward. He was dressed in a sort of smock that was much torn, and + held in his hand a stout staff. As he entered he smote this staff upon the + floor, and, contracting his brows and opening his mouth to its fullest + extent, laughed in a dreadful, unnatural way. He had lost the sight of one + eye, and its colourless pupil kept rolling about and imparting to his + hideous face an even more repellent expression than it otherwise bore. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, you are caught!” he exclaimed as he ran to Woloda with little + short steps and, seizing him round the head, looked at it searchingly. + Next he left him, went to the table, and, with a perfectly serious + expression on his face, began to blow under the oil-cloth, and to make the + sign of the cross over it, “O-oh, what a pity! O-oh, how it hurts! They + are angry! They fly from me!” he exclaimed in a tearful choking voice as + he glared at Woloda and wiped away the streaming tears with his sleeve. + His voice was harsh and rough, all his movements hysterical and spasmodic, + and his words devoid of sense or connection (for he used no conjunctions). + Yet the tone of that voice was so heartrending, and his yellow, deformed + face at times so sincere and pitiful in its expression, that, as one + listened to him, it was impossible to repress a mingled sensation of pity, + grief, and fear. + </p> + <p> + This was the idiot Grisha. Whence he had come, or who were his parents, or + what had induced him to choose the strange life which he led, no one ever + knew. All that I myself knew was that from his fifteenth year upwards he + had been known as an imbecile who went barefooted both in winter and + summer, visited convents, gave little images to any one who cared to take + them, and spoke meaningless words which some people took for prophecies; + that nobody remembered him as being different; that at, rare intervals he + used to call at Grandmamma’s house; and that by some people he was said to + be the outcast son of rich parents and a pure, saintly soul, while others + averred that he was a mere peasant and an idler. + </p> + <p> + At last the punctual and wished-for Foka arrived, and we went downstairs. + Grisha followed us sobbing and continuing to talk nonsense, and knocking + his staff on each step of the staircase. When we entered the drawing-room + we found Papa and Mamma walking up and down there, with their hands + clasped in each other’s, and talking in low tones. Maria Ivanovna was + sitting bolt upright in an arm-chair placed at tight angles to the sofa, + and giving some sort of a lesson to the two girls sitting beside her. When + Karl Ivanitch entered the room she looked at him for a moment, and then + turned her eyes away with an expression which seemed to say, “You are + beneath my notice, Karl Ivanitch.” It was easy to see from the girls’ eyes + that they had important news to communicate to us as soon as an + opportunity occurred (for to leave their seats and approach us first was + contrary to Mimi’s rules). It was for us to go to her and say, “Bon jour, + Mimi,” and then make her a low bow; after which we should possibly be + permitted to enter into conversation with the girls. + </p> + <p> + What an intolerable creature that Mimi was! One could hardly say a word in + her presence without being found fault with. Also whenever we wanted to + speak in Russian, she would say, “Parlez, donc, francais,” as though on + purpose to annoy us, while, if there was any particularly nice dish at + luncheon which we wished to enjoy in peace, she would keep on ejaculating, + “Mangez, donc, avec du pain!” or, “Comment est-ce que vous tenez votre + fourchette?” “What has SHE got to do with us?” I used to think to myself. + “Let her teach the girls. WE have our Karl Ivanitch.” I shared to the full + his dislike of “certain people.” + </p> + <p> + “Ask Mamma to let us go hunting too,” Katenka whispered to me, as she + caught me by the sleeve just when the elders of the family were making a + move towards the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. I will try.” + </p> + <p> + Grisha likewise took a seat in the dining-room, but at a little table + apart from the rest. He never lifted his eyes from his plate, but kept on + sighing and making horrible grimaces, as he muttered to himself: “What a + pity! It has flown away! The dove is flying to heaven! The stone lies on + the tomb!” and so forth. + </p> + <p> + Ever since the morning Mamma had been absent-minded, and Grisha’s + presence, words, and actions seemed to make her more so. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, there is something I forgot to ask you,” she said, as she + handed Papa a plate of soup. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “That you will have those dreadful dogs of yours tied up. They nearly + worried poor Grisha to death when he entered the courtyard, and I am sure + they will bite the children some day.” + </p> + <p> + No sooner did Grisha hear himself mentioned that he turned towards our + table and showed us his torn clothes. Then, as he went on with his meal, + he said: “He would have let them tear me in pieces, but God would not + allow it! What a sin to let the dogs loose—a great sin! But do not + beat him, master; do not beat him! It is for God to forgive! It is past + now!” + </p> + <p> + “What does he say?” said Papa, looking at him gravely and sternly. “I + cannot understand him at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he is saying,” replied Mamma, “that one of the huntsmen set the + dogs on him, but that God would not allow him to be torn in pieces. + Therefore he begs you not to punish the man.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is that it?” said Papa, “How does he know that I intended to punish + the huntsman? You know, I am not very fond of fellows like this,” he added + in French, “and this one offends me particularly. Should it ever happen + that—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t say so,” interrupted Mamma, as if frightened by some thought. + “How can you know what he is?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I have plenty of opportunities for doing so, since no lack of + them come to see you—all of them the same sort, and probably all + with the same story.” + </p> + <p> + I could see that Mamma’s opinion differed from his, but that she did not + mean to quarrel about it. + </p> + <p> + “Please hand me the cakes,” she said to him, “Are they good to-day or + not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I AM angry,” he went on as he took the cakes and put them where + Mamma could not reach them, “very angry at seeing supposedly reasonable + and educated people let themselves be deceived,” and he struck the table + with his fork. + </p> + <p> + “I asked you to hand me the cakes,” she repeated with outstretched hand. + </p> + <p> + “And it is a good thing,” Papa continued as he put the hand aside, “that + the police run such vagabonds in. All they are good for is to play upon + the nerves of certain people who are already not over-strong in that + respect,” and he smiled, observing that Mamma did not like the + conversation at all. However, he handed her the cakes. + </p> + <p> + “All that I have to say,” she replied, “is that one can hardly believe + that a man who, though sixty years of age, goes barefooted winter and + summer, and always wears chains of two pounds’ weight, and never accepts + the offers made to him to live a quiet, comfortable life—it is + difficult to believe that such a man should act thus out of laziness.” + Pausing a moment, she added with a sigh: “As to predictions, je suis payee + pour y croire, I told you, I think, that Grisha prophesied the very day + and hour of poor Papa’s death?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what HAVE you gone and done?” said Papa, laughing and putting his + hand to his cheek (whenever he did this I used to look for something + particularly comical from him). “Why did you call my attention to his + feet? I looked at them, and now can eat nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + Luncheon was over now, and Lubotshka and Katenka were winking at us, + fidgeting about in their chairs, and showing great restlessness. The + winking, of course, signified, “Why don’t you ask whether we too may go to + the hunt?” I nudged Woloda, and Woloda nudged me back, until at last I + took heart of grace, and began (at first shyly, but gradually with more + assurance) to ask if it would matter much if the girls too were allowed to + enjoy the sport. Thereupon a consultation was held among the elder folks, + and eventually leave was granted—Mamma, to make things still more + delightful, saying that she would come too. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI — PREPARATIONS FOR THE CHASE + </h2> + <p> + During dessert Jakoff had been sent for, and orders given him to have + ready the carriage, the hounds, and the saddle-horses—every detail + being minutely specified, and every horse called by its own particular + name. As Woloda’s usual mount was lame, Papa ordered a “hunter” to be + saddled for him; which term, “hunter” so horrified Mamma’s ears, that she + imagined it to be some kind of an animal which would at once run away and + bring about Woloda’s death. Consequently, in spite of all Papa’s and + Woloda’s assurances (the latter glibly affirming that it was nothing, and + that he liked his horse to go fast), poor Mamma continued to exclaim that + her pleasure would be quite spoilt for her. + </p> + <p> + When luncheon was over, the grown-ups had coffee in the study, while we + younger ones ran into the garden and went chattering along the undulating + paths with their carpet of yellow leaves. We talked about Woloda’s riding + a hunter and said what a shame it was that Lubotshka, could not run as + fast as Katenka, and what fun it would be if we could see Grisha’s chains, + and so forth; but of the impending separation we said not a word. Our + chatter was interrupted by the sound of the carriage driving up, with a + village urchin perched on each of its springs. Behind the carriage rode + the huntsmen with the hounds, and they, again, were followed by the groom + Ignat on the steed intended for Woloda, with my old horse trotting + alongside. After running to the garden fence to get a sight of all these + interesting objects, and indulging in a chorus of whistling and hallooing, + we rushed upstairs to dress—our one aim being to make ourselves look + as like the huntsmen as possible. The obvious way to do this was to tuck + one’s breeches inside one’s boots. We lost no time over it all, for we + were in a hurry to run to the entrance steps again there to feast our eyes + upon the horses and hounds, and to have a chat with the huntsmen. The day + was exceedingly warm while, though clouds of fantastic shape had been + gathering on the horizon since morning and driving before a light breeze + across the sun, it was clear that, for all their menacing blackness, they + did not really intend to form a thunderstorm and spoil our last day’s + pleasure. Moreover, towards afternoon some of them broke, grew pale and + elongated, and sank to the horizon again, while others of them changed to + the likeness of white transparent fish-scales. In the east, over + Maslovska, a single lurid mass was louring, but Karl Ivanitch (who always + seemed to know the ways of the heavens) said that the weather would still + continue to be fair and dry. + </p> + <p> + In spite of his advanced years, it was in quite a sprightly manner that + Foka came out to the entrance steps, to give the order “Drive up.” In + fact, as he planted his legs firmly apart and took up his station between + the lowest step and the spot where the coachman was to halt, his mien was + that of a man who knew his duties and had no need to be reminded of them + by anybody. Presently the ladies, also came out, and after a little + discussions as to seats and the safety of the girls (all of which seemed + to me wholly superfluous), they settled themselves in the vehicle, opened + their parasols, and started. As the carriage was, driving away, Mamma + pointed to the hunter and asked nervously “Is that the horse intended for + Vladimir Petrovitch?” On the groom answering in the affirmative, she + raised her hands in horror and turned her head away. As for myself, I was + burning with impatience. Clambering on to the back of my steed (I was just + tall enough to see between its ears), I proceeded to perform evolutions in + the courtyard. + </p> + <p> + “Mind you don’t ride over the hounds, sir,” said one of the huntsmen. + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue. It is not the first time I have been one of the party.” + I retorted with dignity. + </p> + <p> + Although Woloda had plenty of pluck, he was not altogether free from + apprehensions as he sat on the hunter. Indeed, he more than once asked as + he patted it, “Is he quiet?” He looked very well on horseback—almost + a grown-up young man, and held himself so upright in the saddle that I + envied him since my shadow seemed to show that I could not compare with + him in looks. + </p> + <p> + Presently Papa’s footsteps sounded on the flagstones, the whip collected + the hounds, and the huntsmen mounted their steeds. Papa’s horse came up in + charge of a groom, the hounds of his particular leash sprang up from their + picturesque attitudes to fawn upon him, and Milka, in a collar studded + with beads, came bounding joyfully from behind his heels to greet and + sport with the other dogs. Finally, as soon as Papa had mounted we rode + away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII — THE HUNT + </h2> + <p> + AT the head of the cavalcade rode Turka, on a hog-backed roan. On his head + he wore a shaggy cap, while, with a magnificent horn slung across his + shoulders and a knife at his belt, he looked so cruel and inexorable that + one would have thought he was going to engage in bloody strife with his + fellow men rather than to hunt a small animal. Around the hind legs of his + horse the hounds gambolled like a cluster of checkered, restless balls. If + one of them wished to stop, it was only with the greatest difficulty that + it could do so, since not only had its leash-fellow also to be induced to + halt, but at once one of the huntsmen would wheel round, crack his whip, + and shout to the delinquent, + </p> + <p> + “Back to the pack, there!” + </p> + <p> + Arrived at a gate, Papa told us and the huntsmen to continue our way along + the road, and then rode off across a cornfield. The harvest was at its + height. On the further side of a large, shining, yellow stretch of + cornland lay a high purple belt of forest which always figured in my eyes + as a distant, mysterious region behind which either the world ended or an + uninhabited waste began. This expanse of corn-land was dotted with swathes + and reapers, while along the lanes where the sickle had passed could be + seen the backs of women as they stooped among the tall, thick grain or + lifted armfuls of corn and rested them against the shocks. In one corner a + woman was bending over a cradle, and the whole stubble was studded with + sheaves and cornflowers. In another direction shirt-sleeved men were + standing on waggons, shaking the soil from the stalks of sheaves, and + stacking them for carrying. As soon as the foreman (dressed in a blouse + and high boots, and carrying a tally-stick) caught sight of Papa, he + hastened to take off his lamb’s-wool cap and, wiping his red head, told + the women to get up. Papa’s chestnut horse went trotting along with a + prancing gait as it tossed its head and swished its tail to and fro to + drive away the gadflies and countless other insects which tormented its + flanks, while his two greyhounds—their tails curved like sickles—went + springing gracefully over the stubble. Milka was always first, but every + now and then she would halt with a shake of her head to await the + whipper-in. The chatter of the peasants; the rumbling of horses and + waggons; the joyous cries of quails; the hum of insects as they hung + suspended in the motionless air; the smell of the soil and grain and steam + from our horses; the thousand different lights and shadows which the + burning sun cast upon the yellowish-white cornland; the purple forest in + the distance; the white gossamer threads which were floating in the air or + resting on the soil-all these things I observed and heard and felt to the + core. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at the Kalinovo wood, we found the carriage awaiting us there, + with, beside it, a one-horse waggonette driven by the butler—a + waggonette in which were a tea-urn, some apparatus for making ices, and + many other attractive boxes and bundles, all packed in straw! There was no + mistaking these signs, for they meant that we were going to have tea, + fruit, and ices in the open air. This afforded us intense delight, since + to drink tea in a wood and on the grass and where none else had ever drunk + tea before seemed to us a treat beyond expressing. + </p> + <p> + When Turka arrived at the little clearing where the carriage was halted he + took Papa’s detailed instructions as to how we were to divide ourselves + and where each of us was to go (though, as a matter of fact, he never + acted according to such instructions, but always followed his own + devices). Then he unleashed the hounds, fastened the leashes to his + saddle, whistled to the pack, and disappeared among the young birch trees + the liberated hounds jumping about him in high delight, wagging their + tails, and sniffing and gambolling with one another as they dispersed + themselves in different directions. + </p> + <p> + “Has anyone a pocket-handkerchief to spare?” asked Papa. I took mine from + my pocket and offered it to him. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Fasten it to this greyhound here.” + </p> + <p> + “Gizana?” I asked, with the air of a connoisseur. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Then run him along the road with you. When you come to a little + clearing in the wood stop and look about you, and don’t come back to me + without a hare.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly I tied my handkerchief round Gizana’s soft neck, and set off + running at full speed towards the appointed spot, Papa laughing as he + shouted after me, “Hurry up, hurry up or you’ll be late!” + </p> + <p> + Every now and then Gizana kept stopping, pricking up his ears, and + listening to the hallooing of the beaters. Whenever he did this I was not + strong enough to move him, and could do no more than shout, “Come on, come + on!” Presently he set off so fast that I could not restrain him, and I + encountered more than one fall before we reached our destination. + Selecting there a level, shady spot near the roots of a great oak-tree, I + lay down on the turf, made Gizana crouch beside me, and waited. As usual, + my imagination far outstripped reality. I fancied that I was pursuing at + least my third hare when, as a matter of fact, the first hound was only + just giving tongue. Presently, however, Turka’s voice began to sound + through the wood in louder and more excited tones, the baying of a hound + came nearer and nearer, and then another, and then a third, and then a + fourth, deep throat joined in the rising and falling cadences of a chorus, + until the whole had united their voices in one continuous, tumultuous + burst of melody. As the Russian proverb expresses it, “The forest had + found a tongue, and the hounds were burning as with fire.” + </p> + <p> + My excitement was so great that I nearly swooned where I stood. My lips + parted themselves as though smiling, the perspiration poured from me in + streams, and, in spite of the tickling sensation caused by the drops as + they trickled over my chin, I never thought of wiping them away. I felt + that a crisis was approaching. Yet the tension was too unnatural to last. + Soon the hounds came tearing along the edge of the wood, and then—behold, + they were racing away from me again, and of hares there was not a sign to + be seen! I looked in every direction and Gizana did the same—pulling + at his leash at first and whining. Then he lay down again by my side, + rested his muzzle on my knees, and resigned himself to disappointment. + Among the naked roots of the oak-tree under which I was sitting. I could + see countless ants swarming over the parched grey earth and winding among + the acorns, withered oak-leaves, dry twigs, russet moss, and slender, + scanty blades of grass. In serried files they kept pressing forward on the + level track they had made for themselves—some carrying burdens, some + not. I took a piece of twig and barred their way. Instantly it was curious + to see how they made light of the obstacle. Some got past it by creeping + underneath, and some by climbing over it. A few, however, there were + (especially those weighted with loads) who were nonplussed what to do. + They either halted and searched for a way round, or returned whence they + had come, or climbed the adjacent herbage, with the evident intention of + reaching my hand and going up the sleeve of my jacket. From this + interesting spectacle my attention was distracted by the yellow wings of a + butterfly which was fluttering alluringly before me. Yet I had scarcely + noticed it before it flew away to a little distance and, circling over + some half-faded blossoms of white clover, settled on one of them. Whether + it was the sun’s warmth that delighted it, or whether it was busy sucking + nectar from the flower, at all events it seemed thoroughly comfortable. It + scarcely moved its wings at all, and pressed itself down into the clover + until I could hardly see its body. I sat with my chin on my hands and + watched it with intense interest. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Gizana sprang up and gave me such a violent jerk that I nearly + rolled over. I looked round. At the edge of the wood a hare had just come + into view, with one ear bent down and the other one sharply pricked. The + blood rushed to my head, and I forgot everything else as I shouted, + slipped the dog, and rushed towards the spot. Yet all was in vain. The + hare stopped, made a rush, and was lost to view. + </p> + <p> + How confused I felt when at that moment Turka stepped from the undergrowth + (he had been following the hounds as they ran along the edges of the + wood)! He had seen my mistake (which had consisted in my not biding my + time), and now threw me a contemptuous look as he said, “Ah, master!” And + you should have heard the tone in which he said it! It would have been a + relief to me if he had then and there suspended me to his saddle instead + of the hare. For a while I could only stand miserably where I was, without + attempting to recall the dog, and ejaculate as I slapped my knees, “Good + heavens! What a fool I was!” I could hear the hounds retreating into the + distance, and baying along the further side of the wood as they pursued + the hare, while Turka rallied them with blasts on his gorgeous horn: yet I + did not stir. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII — WE PLAY GAMES + </h2> + <p> + THE hunt was over, a cloth had been spread in the shade of some young + birch-trees, and the whole party was disposed around it. The butler, + Gabriel, had stamped down the surrounding grass, wiped the plates in + readiness, and unpacked from a basket a quantity of plums and peaches + wrapped in leaves. + </p> + <p> + Through the green branches of the young birch-trees the sun glittered and + threw little glancing balls of light upon the pattern of my napkin, my + legs, and the bald moist head of Gabriel. A soft breeze played in the + leaves of the trees above us, and, breathing softly upon my hair and + heated face, refreshed me beyond measure. When we had finished the fruit + and ices, nothing remained to be done around the empty cloth, so, despite + the oblique, scorching rays of the sun, we rose and proceeded to play. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what shall it be?” said Lubotshka, blinking in the sunlight and + skipping about the grass, “Suppose we play Robinson?” + </p> + <p> + “No, that’s a tiresome game,” objected Woloda, stretching himself lazily + on the turf and gnawing some leaves, “Always Robinson! If you want to play + at something, play at building a summerhouse.” + </p> + <p> + Woloda was giving himself tremendous airs. Probably he was proud of having + ridden the hunter, and so pretended to be very tired. Perhaps, also, he + had too much hard-headedness and too little imagination fully to enjoy the + game of Robinson. It was a game which consisted of performing various + scenes from The Swiss Family Robinson, a book which we had recently been + reading. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but be a good boy. Why not try and please us this time?” the girls + answered. “You may be Charles or Ernest or the father, whichever you like + best,” added Katenka as she tried to raise him from the ground by pulling + at his sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “No, I’m not going to; it’s a tiresome game,” said Woloda again, though + smiling as if secretly pleased. + </p> + <p> + “It would be better to sit at home than not to play at ANYTHING,” murmured + Lubotshka, with tears in her eyes. She was a great weeper. + </p> + <p> + “Well, go on, then. Only, DON’T cry; I can’t stand that sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + Woloda’s condescension did not please us much. On the contrary, his lazy, + tired expression took away all the fun of the game. When we sat on the + ground and imagined that we were sitting in a boat and either fishing or + rowing with all our might, Woloda persisted in sitting with folded hands + or in anything but a fisherman’s posture. I made a remark about it, but he + replied that, whether we moved our hands or not, we should neither gain + nor lose ground—certainly not advance at all, and I was forced to + agree with him. Again, when I pretended to go out hunting, and, with a + stick over my shoulder, set off into the wood, Woloda only lay down on his + back with his hands under his head, and said that he supposed it was all + the same whether he went or not. Such behaviour and speeches cooled our + ardour for the game and were very disagreeable—the more so since it + was impossible not to confess to oneself that Woloda was right, I myself + knew that it was not only impossible to kill birds with a stick, but to + shoot at all with such a weapon. Still, it was the game, and if we were + once to begin reasoning thus, it would become equally impossible for us to + go for drives on chairs. I think that even Woloda himself cannot at that + moment have forgotten how, in the long winter evenings, we had been used + to cover an arm-chair with a shawl and make a carriage of it—one of + us being the coachman, another one the footman, the two girls the + passengers, and three other chairs the trio of horses abreast. With what + ceremony we used to set out, and with what adventures we used to meet on + the way! How gaily and quickly those long winter evenings used to pass! If + we were always to judge from reality, games would be nonsense; but if + games were nonsense, what else would there be left to do? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX — A FIRST ESSAY IN LOVE + </h2> + <p> + PRETENDING to gather some “American fruit” from a tree, Lubotshka suddenly + plucked a leaf upon which was a huge caterpillar, and throwing the insect + with horror to the ground, lifted her hands and sprang away as though + afraid it would spit at her. The game stopped, and we crowded our heads + together as we stooped to look at the curiosity. + </p> + <p> + I peeped over Katenka’s shoulder as she was trying to lift the caterpillar + by placing another leaf in its way. I had observed before that the girls + had a way of shrugging their shoulders whenever they were trying to put a + loose garment straight on their bare necks, as well as that Mimi always + grew angry on witnessing this manoeuvre and declared it to be a + chambermaid’s trick. As Katenka bent over the caterpillar she made that + very movement, while at the same instant the breeze lifted the fichu on + her white neck. Her shoulder was close to my lips, I looked at it and + kissed it. She did not turn round, but Woloda remarked without raising his + head, “What spooniness!” I felt the tears rising to my eyes, and could not + take my gaze from Katenka. I had long been used to her fair, fresh face, + and had always been fond of her, but now I looked at her more closely, and + felt more fond of her, than I had ever done or felt before. + </p> + <p> + When we returned to the grown-ups, Papa informed us, to our great joy, + that, at Mamma’s entreaties, our departure was to be postponed until the + following morning. We rode home beside the carriage—Woloda and I + galloping near it, and vieing with one another in our exhibition of + horsemanship and daring. My shadow looked longer now than it had done + before, and from that I judged that I had grown into a fine rider. Yet my + complacency was soon marred by an unfortunate occurrence. Desiring to + outdo Woloda before the audience in the carriage, I dropped a little + behind. Then with whip and spur I urged my steed forward, and at the same + time assumed a natural, graceful attitude, with the intention of whooting + past the carriage on the side on which Katenka was seated. My only doubt + was whether to halloo or not as I did so. In the event, my infernal horse + stopped so abruptly when just level with the carriage horses that I was + pitched forward on to its neck and cut a very sorry figure! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X — THE SORT OF MAN MY FATHER WAS + </h2> + <p> + Papa was a gentleman of the last century, with all the chivalrous + character, self-reliance, and gallantry of the youth of that time. Upon + the men of the present day he looked with a contempt arising partly from + inborn pride and partly from a secret feeling of vexation that, in this + age of ours, he could no longer enjoy the influence and success which had + been his in his youth. His two principal failings were gambling and + gallantry, and he had won or lost, in the course of his career, several + millions of roubles. + </p> + <p> + Tall and of imposing figure, he walked with a curiously quick, mincing + gait, as well as had a habit of hitching one of his shoulders. His eyes + were small and perpetually twinkling, his nose large and aquiline, his + lips irregular and rather oddly (though pleasantly) compressed, his + articulation slightly defective and lisping, and his head quite bald. Such + was my father’s exterior from the days of my earliest recollection. It was + an exterior which not only brought him success and made him a man a bonnes + fortunes but one which pleased people of all ranks and stations. + Especially did it please those whom he desired to please. + </p> + <p> + At all junctures he knew how to take the lead, for, though not deriving + from the highest circles of society, he had always mixed with them, and + knew how to win their respect. He possessed in the highest degree that + measure of pride and self-confidence which, without giving offence, + maintains a man in the opinion of the world. He had much originality, as + well as the ability to use it in such a way that it benefited him as much + as actual worldly position or fortune could have done. Nothing in the + universe could surprise him, and though not of eminent attainments in + life, he seemed born to have acquired them. He understood so perfectly how + to make both himself and others forget and keep at a distance the seamy + side of life, with all its petty troubles and vicissitudes, that it was + impossible not to envy him. He was a connoisseur in everything which could + give ease and pleasure, as well as knew how to make use of such knowledge. + Likewise he prided himself on the brilliant connections which he had + formed through my mother’s family or through friends of his youth, and was + secretly jealous of any one of a higher rank than himself—any one, + that is to say, of a rank higher than a retired lieutenant of the Guards. + Moreover, like all ex-officers, he refused to dress himself in the + prevailing fashion, though he attired himself both originally and + artistically—his invariable wear being light, loose-fitting suits, + very fine shirts, and large collars and cuffs. Everything seemed to suit + his upright figure and quiet, assured air. He was sensitive to the pitch + of sentimentality, and, when reading a pathetic passage, his voice would + begin to tremble and the tears to come into his eyes, until he had to lay + the book aside. Likewise he was fond of music, and could accompany himself + on the piano as he sang the love songs of his friend A— or gipsy + songs or themes from operas; but he had no love for serious music, and + would frankly flout received opinion by declaring that, whereas + Beethoven’s sonatas wearied him and sent him to sleep, his ideal of beauty + was “Do not wake me, youth” as Semenoff sang it, or “Not one” as the gipsy + Taninsha rendered that ditty. His nature was essentially one of those + which follow public opinion concerning what is good, and consider only + that good which the public declares to be so. [It may be noted that the + author has said earlier in the chapter that his father possessed “much + originality.”] God only knows whether he had any moral convictions. His + life was so full of amusement that probably he never had time to form any, + and was too successful ever to feel the lack of them. + </p> + <p> + As he grew to old age he looked at things always from a fixed point of + view, and cultivated fixed rules—but only so long as that point or + those rules coincided with expediency. The mode of life which offered some + passing degree of interest—that, in his opinion, was the right one + and the only one that men ought to affect. He had great fluency of + argument; and this, I think, increased the adaptability of his morals and + enabled him to speak of one and the same act, now as good, and now, with + abuse, as abominable. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI — IN THE DRAWING-ROOM AND THE STUDY + </h2> + <p> + Twilight had set in when we reached home. Mamma sat down to the piano, and + we to a table, there to paint and draw in colours and pencil. Though I had + only one cake of colour, and it was blue, I determined to draw a picture + of the hunt. In exceedingly vivid fashion I painted a blue boy on a blue + horse, and—but here I stopped, for I was uncertain whether it was + possible also to paint a blue HARE. I ran to the study to consult Papa, + and as he was busy reading he never lifted his eyes from his book when I + asked, “Can there be blue hares?” but at once replied, “There can, my boy, + there can.” Returning to the table I painted in my blue hare, but + subsequently thought it better to change it into a blue bush. Yet the blue + bush did not wholly please me, so I changed it into a tree, and then into + a rick, until, the whole paper having now become one blur of blue, I tore + it angrily in pieces, and went off to meditate in the large arm-chair. + </p> + <p> + Mamma was playing Field’s second concerto. Field, it may be said, had been + her master. As I dozed, the music brought up before my imagination a kind + of luminosity, with transparent dream-shapes. Next she played the “Sonate + Pathetique” of Beethoven, and I at once felt heavy, depressed, and + apprehensive. Mamma often played those two pieces, and therefore I well + recollect the feelings they awakened in me. Those feelings were a + reminiscence—of what? Somehow I seemed to remember something which + had never been. + </p> + <p> + Opposite to me lay the study door, and presently I saw Jakoff enter it, + accompanied by several long-bearded men in kaftans. Then the door shut + again. + </p> + <p> + “Now they are going to begin some business or other,” I thought. I + believed the affairs transacted in that study to be the most important + ones on earth. This opinion was confirmed by the fact that people only + approached the door of that room on tiptoe and speaking in whispers. + Presently Papa’s resonant voice sounded within, and I also scented cigar + smoke—always a very attractive thing to me. Next, as I dozed, I + suddenly heard a creaking of boots that I knew, and, sure enough, saw Karl + Ivanitch go on tiptoe, and with a depressed, but resolute, expression on + his face and a written document in his hand, to the study door and knock + softly. It opened, and then shut again behind him. + </p> + <p> + “I hope nothing is going to happen,” I mused. “Karl Ivanitch is offended, + and might be capable of anything—” and again I dozed off. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless something DID happen. An hour later I was disturbed by the + same creaking of boots, and saw Karl come out, and disappear up the + stairs, wiping away a few tears from his cheeks with his pocket + handkerchief as he went and muttering something between his teeth. Papa + came out behind him and turned aside into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what I have just decided to do?” he asked gaily as he laid a + hand upon Mamma’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “What, my love?” + </p> + <p> + “To take Karl Ivanitch with the children. There will be room enough for + him in the carriage. They are used to him, and he seems greatly attached + to them. Seven hundred roubles a year cannot make much difference to us, + and the poor devil is not at all a bad sort of a fellow.” I could not + understand why Papa should speak of him so disrespectfully. + </p> + <p> + “I am delighted,” said Mamma, “and as much for the children’s sake as his + own. He is a worthy old man.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you could have seen how moved he was when I told him that he might + look upon the 500 roubles as a present! But the most amusing thing of all + is this bill which he has just handed me. It is worth seeing,” and with a + smile Papa gave Mamma a paper inscribed in Karl’s handwriting. “Is it not + capital?” he concluded. + </p> + <p> + The contents of the paper were as follows: [The joke of this bill consists + chiefly in its being written in very bad Russian, with continual mistakes + as to plural and singular, prepositions and so forth.] + </p> + <p> + “Two book for the children—70 copeck. Coloured paper, gold frames, + and a pop-guns, blockheads [This word has a double meaning in Russian.] + for cutting out several box for presents—6 roubles, 55 copecks. + Several book and a bows, presents for the childrens—8 roubles, 16 + copecks. A gold watches promised to me by Peter Alexandrovitch out of + Moscow, in the years 18— for 140 roubles. Consequently Karl Mayer + have to receive 139 rouble, 79 copecks, beside his wage.” + </p> + <p> + If people were to judge only by this bill (in which Karl Ivanitch demanded + repayment of all the money he had spent on presents, as well as the value + of a present promised to himself), they would take him to have been a + callous, avaricious egotist yet they would be wrong. + </p> + <p> + It appears that he had entered the study with the paper in his hand and a + set speech in his head, for the purpose of declaiming eloquently to Papa + on the subject of the wrongs which he believed himself to have suffered in + our house, but that, as soon as ever he began to speak in the vibratory + voice and with the expressive intonations which he used in dictating to + us, his eloquence wrought upon himself more than upon Papa; with the + result that, when he came to the point where he had to say, “however sad + it will be for me to part with the children,” he lost his self-command + utterly, his articulation became choked, and he was obliged to draw his + coloured pocket-handkerchief from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Peter Alexandrovitch,” he said, weeping (this formed no part of the + prepared speech), “I am grown so used to the children that I cannot think + what I should do without them. I would rather serve you without salary + than not at all,” and with one hand he wiped his eyes, while with the + other he presented the bill. + </p> + <p> + Although I am convinced that at that moment Karl Ivanitch was speaking + with absolute sincerity (for I know how good his heart was), I confess + that never to this day have I been able quite to reconcile his words with + the bill. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if the idea of leaving us grieves you, you may be sure that the + idea of dismissing you grieves me equally,” said Papa, tapping him on the + shoulder. Then, after a pause, he added, “But I have changed my mind, and + you shall not leave us.” + </p> + <p> + Just before supper Grisha entered the room. Ever since he had entered the + house that day he had never ceased to sigh and weep—a portent, + according to those who believed in his prophetic powers, that misfortune + was impending for the household. He had now come to take leave of us, for + to-morrow (so he said) he must be moving on. I nudged Woloda, and we moved + towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “This—that if we want to see Grisha’s chains we must go upstairs at + once to the men-servants’ rooms. Grisha is to sleep in the second one, so + we can sit in the store-room and see everything.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. Wait here, and I’ll tell the girls.” + </p> + <p> + The girls came at once, and we ascended the stairs, though the question as + to which of us should first enter the store-room gave us some little + trouble. Then we cowered down and waited. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII — GRISHA + </h2> + <p> + WE all felt a little uneasy in the thick darkness, so we pressed close to + one another and said nothing. Before long Grisha arrived with his soft + tread, carrying in one hand his staff and in the other a tallow candle set + in a brass candlestick. We scarcely ventured to breathe. + </p> + <p> + “Our Lord Jesus Christ! Holy Mother of God! Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!” + he kept repeating, with the different intonations and abbreviations which + gradually become peculiar to persons who are accustomed to pronounce the + words with great frequency. + </p> + <p> + Still praying, he placed his staff in a corner and looked at the bed; + after which he began to undress. Unfastening his old black girdle, he + slowly divested himself of his torn nankeen kaftan, and deposited it + carefully on the back of a chair. His face had now lost its usual + disquietude and idiocy. On the contrary, it had in it something restful, + thoughtful, and even grand, while all his movements were deliberate and + intelligent. + </p> + <p> + Next, he lay down quietly in his shirt on the bed, made the sign of the + cross towards every side of him, and adjusted his chains beneath his shirt—an + operation which, as we could see from his face, occasioned him + considerable pain. Then he sat up again, looked gravely at his ragged + shirt, and rising and taking the candle, lifted the latter towards the + shrine where the images of the saints stood. That done, he made the sign + of the cross again, and turned the candle upside down, when it went out + with a hissing noise. + </p> + <p> + Through the window (which overlooked the wood) the moon (nearly full) was + shining in such a way that one side of the tall white figure of the idiot + stood out in the pale, silvery moonlight, while the other side was lost in + the dark shadow which covered the floor, walls, and ceiling. In the + courtyard the watchman was tapping at intervals upon his brass alarm + plate. For a while Grisha stood silently before the images and, with his + large hands pressed to his breast and his head bent forward, gave + occasional sighs. Then with difficulty he knelt down and began to pray. + </p> + <p> + At first he repeated some well-known prayers, and only accented a word + here and there. Next, he repeated thee same prayers, but louder and with + increased accentuation. Lastly he repeated them again and with even + greater emphasis, as well as with an evident effort to pronounce them in + the old Slavonic Church dialect. Though disconnected, his prayers were + very touching. He prayed for all his benefactors (so he called every one + who had received him hospitably), with, among them, Mamma and ourselves. + Next he prayed for himself, and besought God to forgive him his sins, at + the same time repeating, “God forgive also my enemies!” Then, moaning with + the effort, he rose from his knees—only to fall to the floor again + and repeat his phrases afresh. At last he regained his feet, despite the + weight of the chains, which rattled loudly whenever they struck the floor. + </p> + <p> + Woloda pinched me rudely in the leg, but I took no notice of that (except + that I involuntarily touched the place with my hand), as I observed with a + feeling of childish astonishment, pity, and respect the words and gestures + of Grisha. Instead of the laughter and amusement which I had expected on + entering the store-room, I felt my heart beating and overcome. + </p> + <p> + Grisha continued for some time in this state of religious ecstasy as he + improvised prayers and repeated again and yet again, “Lord, have mercy + upon me!” Each time that he said, “Pardon me, Lord, and teach me to do + what Thou wouldst have done,” he pronounced the words with added + earnestness and emphasis, as though he expected an immediate answer to his + petition, and then fell to sobbing and moaning once more. Finally, he went + down on his knees again, folded his arms upon his breast, and remained + silent. I ventured to put my head round the door (holding my breath as I + did so), but Grisha still made no movement except for the heavy sighs + which heaved his breast. In the moonlight I could see a tear glistening on + the white patch of his blind eye. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Thy will be done!” he exclaimed suddenly, with an expression which I + cannot describe, as, prostrating himself with his forehead on the floor, + he fell to sobbing like a child. + </p> + <p> + Much sand has run out since then, many recollections of the past have + faded from my memory or become blurred in indistinct visions, and poor + Grisha himself has long since reached the end of his pilgrimage; but the + impression which he produced upon me, and the feelings which he aroused in + my breast, will never leave my mind. O truly Christian Grisha, your faith + was so strong that you could feel the actual presence of God; your love so + great that the words fell of themselves from your lips. You had no reason + to prove them, for you did so with your earnest praises of His majesty as + you fell to the ground speechless and in tears! + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless the sense of awe with which I had listened to Grisha could + not last for ever. I had now satisfied my curiosity, and, being cramped + with sitting in one position so long, desired to join in the tittering and + fun which I could hear going on in the dark store-room behind me. Some one + took my hand and whispered, “Whose hand is this?” Despite the darkness, I + knew by the touch and the low voice in my ear that it was Katenka. I took + her by the arm, but she withdrew it, and, in doing so, pushed a cane chair + which was standing near. Grisha lifted his head looked quietly about him, + and, muttering a prayer, rose and made the sign of the cross towards each + of the four corners of the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII — NATALIA SAVISHNA + </h2> + <p> + In days gone by there used to run about the seignorial courtyard of the + country-house at Chabarovska a girl called Natashka. She always wore a + cotton dress, went barefooted, and was rosy, plump, and gay. It was at the + request and entreaties of her father, the clarionet player Savi, that my + grandfather had “taken her upstairs”—that is to say, made her one of + his wife’s female servants. As chamber-maid, Natashka so distinguished + herself by her zeal and amiable temper that when Mamma arrived as a baby + and required a nurse Natashka was honoured with the charge of her. In this + new office the girl earned still further praises and rewards for her + activity, trustworthiness, and devotion to her young mistress. Soon, + however, the powdered head and buckled shoes of the young and active + footman Foka (who had frequent opportunities of courting her, since they + were in the same service) captivated her unsophisticated, but loving, + heart. At last she ventured to go and ask my grandfather if she might + marry Foka, but her master took the request in bad part, flew into a + passion, and punished poor Natashka by exiling her to a farm which he + owned in a remote quarter of the Steppes. At length, when she had been + gone six months and nobody could be found to replace her, she was recalled + to her former duties. Returned, and with her dress in rags, she fell at + Grandpapa’s feet, and besought him to restore her his favour and kindness, + and to forget the folly of which she had been guilty—folly which, + she assured him, should never recur again. And she kept her word. + </p> + <p> + From that time forth she called herself, not Natashka, but Natalia + Savishna, and took to wearing a cap. All the love in her heart was now + bestowed upon her young charge. When Mamma had a governess appointed for + her education, Natalia was awarded the keys as housekeeper, and henceforth + had the linen and provisions under her care. These new duties she + fulfilled with equal fidelity and zeal. She lived only for her master’s + advantage. Everything in which she could detect fraud, extravagance, or + waste she endeavoured to remedy to the best of her power. When Mamma + married and wished in some way to reward Natalia Savishna for her twenty + years of care and labour, she sent for her and, voicing in the tenderest + terms her attachment and love, presented her with a stamped charter of her + (Natalia’s) freedom, [It will be remembered that this was in the days of + serfdom] telling her at the same time that, whether she continued to serve + in the household or not, she should always receive an annual pension of + 300 roubles. Natalia listened in silence to this. Then, taking the + document in her hands and regarding it with a frown, she muttered + something between her teeth, and darted from the room, slamming the door + behind her. Not understanding the reason for such strange conduct, Mamma + followed her presently to her room, and found her sitting with streaming + eyes on her trunk, crushing her pocket-handkerchief between her fingers, + and looking mournfully at the remains of the document, which was lying + torn to pieces on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, dear Natalia Savishna?” said Mamma, taking her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, ma’am,” she replied; “only—only I must have displeased you + somehow, since you wish to dismiss me from the house. Well, I will go.” + </p> + <p> + She withdrew her hand and, with difficulty restraining her tears, rose to + leave the room, but Mamma stopped her, and they wept a while in one + another’s arms. + </p> + <p> + Ever since I can remember anything I can remember Natalia Savishna and her + love and tenderness; yet only now have I learnt to appreciate them at + their full value. In early days it never occurred to me to think what a + rare and wonderful being this old domestic was. Not only did she never + talk, but she seemed never even to think, of herself. Her whole life was + compounded of love and self-sacrifice. Yet so used was I to her affection + and singleness of heart that I could not picture things otherwise. I never + thought of thanking her, or of asking myself, “Is she also happy? Is she + also contented?” Often on some pretext or another I would leave my lessons + and run to her room, where, sitting down, I would begin to muse aloud as + though she were not there. She was forever mending something, or tidying + the shelves which lined her room, or marking linen, so that she took no + heed of the nonsense which I talked—how that I meant to become a + general, to marry a beautiful woman, to buy a chestnut horse, to, build + myself a house of glass, to invite Karl Ivanitch’s relatives to come and + visit me from Saxony, and so forth; to all of which she would only reply, + “Yes, my love, yes.” Then, on my rising, and preparing to go, she would + open a blue trunk which had pasted on the inside of its lid a coloured + picture of a hussar which had once adorned a pomade bottle and a sketch + made by Woloda, and take from it a fumigation pastille, which she would + light and shake for my benefit, saying: + </p> + <p> + “These, dear, are the pastilles which your grandfather (now in Heaven) + brought back from Otchakov after fighting against the Turks.” Then she + would add with a sigh: “But this is nearly the last one.” + </p> + <p> + The trunks which filled her room seemed to contain almost everything in + the world. Whenever anything was wanted, people said, “Oh, go and ask + Natalia Savishna for it,” and, sure enough, it was seldom that she did not + produce the object required and say, “See what comes of taking care of + everything!” Her trunks contained thousands of things which nobody in the + house but herself would have thought of preserving. + </p> + <p> + Once I lost my temper with her. This was how it happened. + </p> + <p> + One day after luncheon I poured myself out a glass of kvass, and then + dropped the decanter, and so stained the tablecloth. + </p> + <p> + “Go and call Natalia, that she may come and see what her darling has + done,” said Mamma. + </p> + <p> + Natalia arrived, and shook her head at me when she saw the damage I had + done; but Mamma whispered something in her car, threw a look at myself, + and then left the room. + </p> + <p> + I was just skipping away, in the sprightliest mood possible, when Natalia + darted out upon me from behind the door with the tablecloth in her hand, + and, catching hold of me, rubbed my face hard with the stained part of it, + repeating, “Don’t thou go and spoil tablecloths any more!” + </p> + <p> + I struggled hard, and roared with temper. + </p> + <p> + “What?” I said to myself as I fled to the drawing-room in a mist of tears, + “To think that Natalia Savishna-just plain Natalia-should say ‘THOU’ to me + and rub my face with a wet tablecloth as though I were a mere servant-boy! + It is abominable!” + </p> + <p> + Seeing my fury, Natalia departed, while I continued to strut about and + plan how to punish the bold woman for her offence. Yet not more than a few + moments had passed when Natalia returned and, stealing to my side, began + to comfort me, + </p> + <p> + “Hush, then, my love. Do not cry. Forgive me my rudeness. It was wrong of + me. You WILL pardon me, my darling, will you not? There, there, that’s a + dear,” and she took from her handkerchief a cornet of pink paper + containing two little cakes and a grape, and offered it me with a + trembling hand. I could not look the kind old woman in the face, but, + turning aside, took the paper, while my tears flowed the faster—though + from love and shame now, not from anger. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV — THE PARTING + </h2> + <p> + ON the day after the events described, the carriage and the luggage-cart + drew up to the door at noon. Nicola, dressed for the journey, with his + breeches tucked into his boots and an old overcoat belted tightly about + him with a girdle, got into the cart and arranged cloaks and cushions on + the seats. When he thought that they were piled high enough he sat down on + them, but finding them still unsatisfactory, jumped up and arranged them + once more. + </p> + <p> + “Nicola Dimitvitch, would you be so good as to take master’s dressing-case + with you?” said Papa’s valet, suddenly standing up in the carriage, “It + won’t take up much room.” + </p> + <p> + “You should have told me before, Michael Ivanitch,” answered Nicola + snappishly as he hurled a bundle with all his might to the floor of the + cart. “Good gracious! Why, when my head is going round like a whirlpool, + there you come along with your dressing-case!” and he lifted his cap to + wipe away the drops of perspiration from his sunburnt brow. + </p> + <p> + The courtyard was full of bareheaded peasants in kaftans or simple shirts, + women clad in the national dress and wearing striped handkerchiefs, and + barefooted little ones—the latter holding their mothers’ hands or + crowding round the entrance-steps. All were chattering among themselves as + they stared at the carriage. One of the postillions, an old man dressed in + a winter cap and cloak, took hold of the pole of the carriage and tried it + carefully, while the other postillion (a young man in a white blouse with + pink gussets on the sleeves and a black lamb’s-wool cap which he kept + cocking first on one side and then on the other as he arranged his flaxen + hair) laid his overcoat upon the box, slung the reins over it, and cracked + his thonged whip as he looked now at his boots and now at the other + drivers where they stood greasing the wheels of the cart—one driver + lifting up each wheel in turn and the other driver applying the grease. + Tired post-horses of various hues stood lashing away flies with their + tails near the gate—some stamping their great hairy legs, blinking + their eyes, and dozing, some leaning wearily against their neighbours, and + others cropping the leaves and stalks of dark-green fern which grew near + the entrance-steps. Some of the dogs were lying panting in the sun, while + others were slinking under the vehicles to lick the grease from the + wheels. The air was filled with a sort of dusty mist, and the horizon was + lilac-grey in colour, though no clouds were to be seen, A strong wind from + the south was raising volumes of dust from the roads and fields, shaking + the poplars and birch-trees in the garden, and whirling their yellow + leaves away. I myself was sitting at a window and waiting impatiently for + these various preparations to come to an end. + </p> + <p> + As we sat together by the drawing-room table, to pass the last few moments + en famille, it never occurred to me that a sad moment was impending. On + the contrary, the most trivial thoughts were filling my brain. Which + driver was going to drive the carriage and which the cart? Which of us + would sit with Papa, and which with Karl Ivanitch? Why must I be kept + forever muffled up in a scarf and padded boots? + </p> + <p> + “Am I so delicate? Am I likely to be frozen?” I thought to myself. “I wish + it would all come to an end, and we could take our seats and start.” + </p> + <p> + “To whom shall I give the list of the children’s linen?” asked Natalia + Savishna of Mamma as she entered the room with a paper in her hand and her + eyes red with weeping. + </p> + <p> + “Give it to Nicola, and then return to say good-bye to them,” replied + Mamma. The old woman seemed about to say something more, but suddenly + stopped short, covered her face with her handkerchief, and left the room. + Something seemed to prick at my heart when I saw that gesture of hers, but + impatience to be off soon drowned all other feeling, and I continued to + listen indifferently to Papa and Mamma as they talked together. They were + discussing subjects which evidently interested neither of them. What must + be bought for the house? What would Princess Sophia or Madame Julie say? + Would the roads be good?—and so forth. + </p> + <p> + Foka entered, and in the same tone and with the same air as though he were + announcing luncheon said, “The carriages are ready.” I saw Mamma tremble + and turn pale at the announcement, just as though it were something + unexpected. + </p> + <p> + Next, Foka was ordered to shut all the doors of the room. This amused me + highly. As though we needed to be concealed from some one! When every one + else was seated, Foka took the last remaining chair. Scarcely, however, + had he done so when the door creaked and every one looked that way. + Natalia Savishna entered hastily, and, without raising her eyes, sat own + on the same chair as Foka. I can see them before me now-Foka’s bald head + and wrinkled, set face, and, beside him, a bent, kind figure in a cap from + beneath which a few grey hairs were straggling. The pair settled + themselves together on the chair, but neither of them looked comfortable. + </p> + <p> + I continued preoccupied and impatient. In fact, the ten minutes during + which we sat there with closed doors seemed to me an hour. At last every + one rose, made the sign of the cross, and began to say good-bye. Papa + embraced Mamma, and kissed her again and again. + </p> + <p> + “But enough,” he said presently. “We are not parting for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but it is-so-so sad!” replied Mamma, her voice trembling with + emotion. + </p> + <p> + When I heard that faltering voice, and saw those quivering lips and + tear-filled eyes, I forgot everything else in the world. I felt so ill and + miserable that I would gladly have run away rather than bid her farewell. + I felt, too, that when she was embracing Papa she was embracing us all. + She clasped Woloda to her several times, and made the sign of the cross + over him; after which I approached her, thinking that it was my turn. + Nevertheless she took him again and again to her heart, and blessed him. + Finally I caught hold of her, and, clinging to her, wept—wept, + thinking of nothing in the world but my grief. + </p> + <p> + As we passed out to take our seats, other servants pressed round us in the + hall to say good-bye. Yet their requests to shake hands with us, their + resounding kisses on our shoulders, [The fashion in which inferiors salute + their superiors in Russia.] and the odour of their greasy heads only + excited in me a feeling akin to impatience with these tiresome people. The + same feeling made me bestow nothing more than a very cross kiss upon + Natalia’s cap when she approached to take leave of me. It is strange that + I should still retain a perfect recollection of these servants’ faces, and + be able to draw them with the most minute accuracy in my mind, while + Mamma’s face and attitude escape me entirely. It may be that it is because + at that moment I had not the heart to look at her closely. I felt that if + I did so our mutual grief would burst forth too unrestrainedly. + </p> + <p> + I was the first to jump into the carriage and to take one of the hinder + seats. The high back of the carriage prevented me from actually seeing + her, yet I knew by instinct that Mamma was still there. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I look at her again or not?” I said to myself. “Well, just for the + last time,” and I peeped out towards the entrance-steps. Exactly at that + moment Mamma moved by the same impulse, came to the opposite side of the + carriage, and called me by name. Hearing her voice behind me. I turned + round, but so hastily that our heads knocked together. She gave a sad + smile, and kissed me convulsively for the last time. + </p> + <p> + When we had driven away a few paces I determined to look at her once more. + The wind was lifting the blue handkerchief from her head as, bent forward + and her face buried in her hands, she moved slowly up the steps. Foka was + supporting her. Papa said nothing as he sat beside me. I felt breathless + with tears—felt a sensation in my throat as though I were going to + choke, just as we came out on to the open road I saw a white handkerchief + waving from the terrace. I waved mine in return, and the action of so + doing calmed me a little. I still went on crying, but the thought that my + tears were a proof of my affection helped to soothe and comfort me. + </p> + <p> + After a little while I began to recover, and to look with interest at + objects which we passed and at the hind-quarters of the led horse which + was trotting on my side. I watched how it would swish its tail, how it + would lift one hoof after the other, how the driver’s thong would fall + upon its back, and how all its legs would then seem to jump together and + the back-band, with the rings on it, to jump too—the whole covered + with the horse’s foam. Then I would look at the rolling stretches of ripe + corn, at the dark ploughed fields where ploughs and peasants and horses + with foals were working, at their footprints, and at the box of the + carriage to see who was driving us; until, though my face was still wet + with tears, my thoughts had strayed far from her with whom I had just + parted—parted, perhaps, for ever. Yet ever and again something would + recall her to my memory. I remembered too how, the evening before, I had + found a mushroom under the birch-trees, how Lubotshka had quarrelled with + Katenka as to whose it should be, and how they had both of them wept when + taking leave of us. I felt sorry to be parted from them, and from Natalia + Savishna, and from the birch-tree avenue, and from Foka. Yes, even the + horrid Mimi I longed for. I longed for everything at home. And poor Mamma!—The + tears rushed to my eyes again. Yet even this mood passed away before long. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV — CHILDHOOD + </h2> + <p> + HAPPY, happy, never-returning time of childhood! How can we help loving + and dwelling upon its recollections? They cheer and elevate the soul, and + become to one a source of higher joys. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, when dreaming of bygone days, I fancy that, tired out with + running about, I have sat down, as of old, in my high arm-chair by the + tea-table. It is late, and I have long since drunk my cup of milk. My eyes + are heavy with sleep as I sit there and listen. How could I not listen, + seeing that Mamma is speaking to somebody, and that the sound of her voice + is so melodious and kind? How much its echoes recall to my heart! With my + eyes veiled with drowsiness I gaze at her wistfully. Suddenly she seems to + grow smaller and smaller, and her face vanishes to a point; yet I can + still see it—can still see her as she looks at me and smiles. + Somehow it pleases me to see her grown so small. I blink and blink, yet + she looks no larger than a boy reflected in the pupil of an eye. Then I + rouse myself, and the picture fades. Once more I half-close my eyes, and + cast about to try and recall the dream, but it has gone. + </p> + <p> + I rise to my feet, only to fall back comfortably into the armchair. + </p> + <p> + “There! You are failing asleep again, little Nicolas,” says Mamma. “You + had better go to by-by.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I won’t go to sleep, Mamma,” I reply, though almost inaudibly, for + pleasant dreams are filling all my soul. The sound sleep of childhood is + weighing my eyelids down, and for a few moments I sink into slumber and + oblivion until awakened by some one. I feel in my sleep as though a soft + hand were caressing me. I know it by the touch, and, though still + dreaming, I seize hold of it and press it to my lips. Every one else has + gone to bed, and only one candle remains burning in the drawing-room. + Mamma has said that she herself will wake me. She sits down on the arm of + the chair in which I am asleep, with her soft hand stroking my hair, and I + hear her beloved, well-known voice say in my ear: + </p> + <p> + “Get up, my darling. It is time to go by-by.” + </p> + <p> + No envious gaze sees her now. She is not afraid to shed upon me the whole + of her tenderness and love. I do not wake up, yet I kiss and kiss her + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Get up, then, my angel.” + </p> + <p> + She passes her other arm round my neck, and her fingers tickle me as they + move across it. The room is quiet and in half-darkness, but the tickling + has touched my nerves and I begin to awake. Mamma is sitting near me—that + I can tell—and touching me; I can hear her voice and feel her + presence. This at last rouses me to spring up, to throw my arms around her + neck, to hide my head in her bosom, and to say with a sigh: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, dear, darling Mamma, how much I love you!” + </p> + <p> + She smiles her sad, enchanting smile, takes my head between her two hands, + kisses me on the forehead, and lifts me on to her lap. + </p> + <p> + “Do you love me so much, then?” she says. Then, after a few moments’ + silence, she continues: “And you must love me always, and never forget me. + If your Mamma should no longer be here, will you promise never to forget + her—never, Nicolinka? and she kisses me more fondly than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you must not speak so, darling Mamma, my own darling Mamma!” I + exclaim as I clasp her knees, and tears of joy and love fall from my eyes. + </p> + <p> + How, after scenes like this, I would go upstairs, and stand before the + ikons, and say with a rapturous feeling, “God bless Papa and Mamma!” and + repeat a prayer for my beloved mother which my childish lips had learnt to + lisp-the love of God and of her blending strangely in a single emotion! + </p> + <p> + After saying my prayers I would wrap myself up in the bedclothes. My heart + would feel light, peaceful, and happy, and one dream would follow another. + Dreams of what? They were all of them vague, but all of them full of pure + love and of a sort of expectation of happiness. I remember, too, that I + used to think about Karl Ivanitch and his sad lot. He was the only unhappy + being whom I knew, and so sorry would I feel for him, and so much did I + love him, that tears would fall from my eyes as I thought, “May God give + him happiness, and enable me to help him and to lessen his sorrow. I could + make any sacrifice for him!” Usually, also, there would be some favourite + toy—a china dog or hare—stuck into the bed-corner behind the + pillow, and it would please me to think how warm and comfortable and well + cared-for it was there. Also, I would pray God to make every one happy, so + that every one might be contented, and also to send fine weather to-morrow + for our walk. Then I would turn myself over on to the other side, and + thoughts and dreams would become jumbled and entangled together until at + last I slept soundly and peacefully, though with a face wet with tears. + </p> + <p> + Do in after life the freshness and light-heartedness, the craving for love + and for strength of faith, ever return which we experience in our + childhood’s years? What better time is there in our lives than when the + two best of virtues—innocent gaiety and a boundless yearning for + affection—are our sole objects of pursuit? + </p> + <p> + Where now are our ardent prayers? Where now are our best gifts—the + pure tears of emotion which a guardian angel dries with a smile as he + sheds upon us lovely dreams of ineffable childish joy? Can it be that life + has left such heavy traces upon one’s heart that those tears and ecstasies + are for ever vanished? Can it be that there remains to us only the + recollection of them? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI — VERSE-MAKING + </h2> + <p> + RATHER less than a month after our arrival in Moscow I was sitting + upstairs in my Grandmamma’s house and doing some writing at a large table. + Opposite to me sat the drawing master, who was giving a few finishing + touches to the head of a turbaned Turk, executed in black pencil. Woloda, + with out-stretched neck, was standing behind the drawing master and + looking over his shoulder. The head was Woloda’s first production in + pencil and to-day—Grandmamma’s name-day—the masterpiece was to + be presented to her. + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t you going to put a little more shadow there?” said Woloda to the + master as he raised himself on tiptoe and pointed to the Turk’s neck. + </p> + <p> + “No, it is not necessary,” the master replied as he put pencil and + drawing-pen into a japanned folding box. “It is just right now, and you + need not do anything more to it. As for you, Nicolinka,” he added, rising + and glancing askew at the Turk, “won’t you tell us your great secret at + last? What are you going to give your Grandmamma? I think another head + would be your best gift. But good-bye, gentlemen,” and taking his hat and + cardboard he departed. + </p> + <p> + I too had thought that another head than the one at which I had been + working would be a better gift; so, when we were told that Grandmamma’s + name-day was soon to come round and that we must each of us have a present + ready for her, I had taken it into my head to write some verses in honour + of the occasion, and had forthwith composed two rhymed couplets, hoping + that the rest would soon materialise. I really do not know how the idea—one + so peculiar for a child—came to occur to me, but I know that I liked + it vastly, and answered all questions on the subject of my gift by + declaring that I should soon have something ready for Grandmamma, but was + not going to say what it was. + </p> + <p> + Contrary to my expectation, I found that, after the first two couplets + executed in the initial heat of enthusiasm, even my most strenuous efforts + refused to produce another one. I began to read different poems in our + books, but neither Dimitrieff nor Derzhavin could help me. On the + contrary, they only confirmed my sense of incompetence. Knowing, however, + that Karl Ivanitch was fond of writing verses, I stole softly upstairs to + burrow among his papers, and found, among a number of German verses, some + in the Russian language which seemed to have come from his own pen. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To L + + Remember near + Remember far, + Remember me. + To-day be faithful, and for ever— + Aye, still beyond the grave—remember + That I have well loved thee. + + “KARL MAYER.” + </pre> + <p> + These verses (which were written in a fine, round hand on thin + letter-paper) pleased me with the touching sentiment with which they + seemed to be inspired. I learnt them by heart, and decided to take them as + a model. The thing was much easier now. By the time the name-day had + arrived I had completed a twelve-couplet congratulatory ode, and sat down + to the table in our school-room to copy them out on vellum. + </p> + <p> + Two sheets were soon spoiled—not because I found it necessary to + alter anything (the verses seemed to me perfect), but because, after the + third line, the tail-end of each successive one would go curving upward + and making it plain to all the world that the whole thing had been written + with a want of adherence to the horizontal—a thing which I could not + bear to see. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The third sheet also came out crooked, but I determined to make it do. +In my verses I congratulated Grandmamma, wished her many happy returns, +and concluded thus: + + “Endeavouring you to please and cheer, + We love you like our Mother dear.” + </pre> + <p> + This seemed to me not bad, yet it offended my ear somehow. + </p> + <p> + “Lo-ve you li-ike our Mo-ther dear,” I repeated to myself. “What other + rhyme could I use instead of ‘dear’? Fear? Steer? Well, it must go at + that. At least the verses are better than Karl Ivanitch’s.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly I added the last verse to the rest. Then I went into our + bedroom and recited the whole poem aloud with much feeling and + gesticulation. The verses were altogether guiltless of metre, but I did + not stop to consider that. Yet the last one displeased me more than ever. + As I sat on my bed I thought: + </p> + <p> + “Why on earth did I write ‘like our Mother dear’? She is not here, and + therefore she need never have been mentioned. True, I love and respect + Grandmamma, but she is not quite the same as—Why DID I write that? + What did I go and tell a lie for? They may be verses only, yet I needn’t + quite have done that.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment the tailor arrived with some new clothes for us. + </p> + <p> + “Well, so be it!” I said in much vexation as I crammed the verses hastily + under my pillow and ran down to adorn myself in the new Moscow garments. + </p> + <p> + They fitted marvellously-both the brown jacket with yellow buttons (a + garment made skin-tight and not “to allow room for growth,” as in the + country) and the black trousers (also close-fitting so that they displayed + the figure and lay smoothly over the boots). + </p> + <p> + “At last I have real trousers on!” I thought as I looked at my legs with + the utmost satisfaction. I concealed from every one the fact that the new + clothes were horribly tight and uncomfortable, but, on the contrary, said + that, if there were a fault, it was that they were not tight enough. For a + long while I stood before the looking-glass as I combed my elaborately + pomaded head, but, try as I would, I could not reduce the topmost hairs on + the crown to order. As soon as ever I left off combing them, they sprang + up again and radiated in different directions, thus giving my face a + ridiculous expression. + </p> + <p> + Karl Ivanitch was dressing in another room, and I heard some one bring him + his blue frockcoat and under-linen. Then at the door leading downstairs I + heard a maid-servant’s voice, and went to see what she wanted. In her hand + she held a well-starched shirt which she said she had been sitting up all + night to get ready. I took it, and asked if Grandmamma was up yet. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, she has had her coffee, and the priest has come. My word, but you + look a fine little fellow!” added the girl with a smile at my new clothes. + </p> + <p> + This observation made me blush, so I whirled round on one leg, snapped my + fingers, and went skipping away, in the hope that by these manoeuvres I + should make her sensible that even yet she had not realised quite what a + fine fellow I was. + </p> + <p> + However, when I took the shirt to Karl I found that he did not need it, + having taken another one. Standing before a small looking-glass, he tied + his cravat with both hands—trying, by various motions of his head, + to see whether it fitted him comfortably or not—and then took us + down to see Grandmamma. To this day I cannot help laughing when I remember + what a smell of pomade the three of us left behind us on the staircase as + we descended. + </p> + <p> + Karl was carrying a box which he had made himself, Woloda, his drawing, + and I my verses, while each of us also had a form of words ready with + which to present his gift. Just as Karl opened the door, the priest put on + his vestment and began to say prayers. + </p> + <p> + During the ceremony Grandmamma stood leaning over the back of a chair, + with her head bent down. Near her stood Papa. He turned and smiled at us + as we hurriedly thrust our presents behind our backs and tried to remain + unobserved by the door. The whole effect of a surprise, upon which we had + been counting, was entirely lost. When at last every one had made the sign + of the cross I became intolerably oppressed with a sudden, invincible, and + deadly attack of shyness, so that the courage to, offer my present + completely failed me. I hid myself behind Karl Ivanitch, who solemnly + congratulated Grandmamma and, transferring his box from his right hand to + his left, presented it to her. Then he withdrew a few steps to make way + for Woloda. Grandmamma seemed highly pleased with the box (which was + adorned with a gold border), and smiled in the most friendly manner in + order to express her gratitude. Yet it was evident that, she did not know + where to set the box down, and this probably accounts for the fact that + she handed it to Papa, at the same time bidding him observe how + beautifully it was made. + </p> + <p> + His curiosity satisfied, Papa handed the box to the priest, who also + seemed particularly delighted with it, and looked with astonishment, first + at the article itself, and then at the artist who could make such + wonderful things. Then Woloda presented his Turk, and received a similarly + flattering ovation on all sides. + </p> + <p> + It was my turn now, and Grandmamma turned to me with her kindest smile. + Those who have experienced what embarrassment is know that it is a feeling + which grows in direct proportion to delay, while decision decreases in + similar measure. In other words the longer the condition lasts, the more + invincible does it become, and the smaller does the power of decision come + to be. + </p> + <p> + My last remnants of nerve and energy had forsaken me while Karl and Woloda + had been offering their presents, and my shyness now reached its + culminating point, I felt the blood rushing from my heart to my head, one + blush succeeding another across my face, and drops of perspiration + beginning to stand out on my brow and nose. My ears were burning, I + trembled from head to foot, and, though I kept changing from one foot to + the other, I remained rooted where I stood. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Nicolinka, tell us what you have brought?” said Papa. “Is it a box + or a drawing?” + </p> + <p> + There was nothing else to be done. With a trembling hand held out the + folded, fatal paper, but my voiced failed me completely and I stood before + Grandmamma in silence. I could not get rid of the dreadful idea that, + instead of a display of the expected drawing, some bad verses of mine were + about to be read aloud before every one, and that the words “our Mother + dear” would clearly prove that I had never loved, but had only forgotten, + her. How shall I express my sufferings when Grandmamma began to read my + poetry aloud?—when, unable to decipher it, she stopped half-way and + looked at Papa with a smile (which I took to be one of ridicule)?—when + she did not pronounce it as I had meant it to be pronounced?—and + when her weak sight not allowing her to finish it, she handed the paper to + Papa and requested him to read it all over again from the beginning? I + fancied that she must have done this last because she did not like to read + such a lot of stupid, crookedly written stuff herself, yet wanted to point + out to Papa my utter lack of feeling. I expected him to slap me in the + face with the verses and say, “You bad boy! So you have forgotten your + Mamma! Take that for it!” Yet nothing of the sort happened. On the + contrary, when the whole had been read, Grandmamma said, “Charming!” and + kissed me on the forehead. Then our presents, together with two cambric + pocket-handkerchiefs and a snuff-box engraved with Mamma’s portrait, were + laid on the table attached to the great Voltairian arm-chair in which + Grandmamma always sat. + </p> + <p> + “The Princess Barbara Ilinitsha!” announced one of the two footmen who + used to stand behind Grandmamma’s carriage, but Grandmamma was looking + thoughtfully at the portrait on the snuff-box, and returned no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I show her in, madam?” repeated the footman. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII — THE PRINCESS KORNAKOFF + </h2> + <p> + “Yes, show her in,” said Grandmamma, settling herself as far back in her + arm-chair as possible. The Princess was a woman of about forty-five, small + and delicate, with a shrivelled skin and disagreeable, greyish-green eyes, + the expression of which contradicted the unnaturally suave look of the + rest of her face. Underneath her velvet bonnet, adorned with an ostrich + feather, was visible some reddish hair, while against the unhealthy colour + of her skin her eyebrows and eyelashes looked even lighter and redder that + they would other wise have done. Yet, for all that, her animated + movements, small hands, and peculiarly dry features communicated something + aristocratic and energetic to her general appearance. She talked a great + deal, and, to judge from her eloquence, belonged to that class of persons + who always speak as though some one were contradicting them, even though + no one else may be saying a word. First she would raise her voice, then + lower it and then take on a fresh access of vivacity as she looked at the + persons present, but not participating in the conversation, with an air of + endeavouring to draw them into it. + </p> + <p> + Although the Princess kissed Grandmamma’s hand and repeatedly called her + “my good Aunt,” I could see that Grandmamma did not care much about her, + for she kept raising her eyebrows in a peculiar way while listening to the + Princess’s excuses why Prince Michael had been prevented from calling, and + congratulating Grandmamma “as he would like so-much to have done.” At + length, however, she answered the Princess’s French with Russian, and with + a sharp accentuation of certain words. + </p> + <p> + “I am much obliged to you for your kindness,” she said. “As for Prince + Michael’s absence, pray do not mention it. He has so much else to do. + Besides, what pleasure could he find in coming to see an old woman like + me?” Then, without allowing the Princess time to reply, she went on: “How + are your children my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, thank God, Aunt, they grow and do their lessons and play—particularly + my eldest one, Etienne, who is so wild that it is almost impossible to + keep him in order. Still, he is a clever and promising boy. Would you + believe it, cousin,” (this last to Papa, since Grandmamma altogether + uninterested in the Princess’s children, had turned to us, taken my verses + out from beneath the presentation box, and unfolded them again), “would + you believe it, but one day not long ago—” and leaning over towards + Papa, the Princess related something or other with great vivacity. Then, + her tale concluded, she laughed, and, with a questioning look at Papa, + went on: + </p> + <p> + “What a boy, cousin! He ought to have been whipped, but the trick was so + spirited and amusing that I let him off.” Then the Princess looked at + Grandmamma and laughed again. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! So you WHIP your children, do you” said Grandmamma, with a + significant lift of her eyebrows, and laying a peculiar stress on the word + “WHIP.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my good Aunt,” replied the Princess in a sort of tolerant tone and + with another glance at Papa, “I know your views on the subject, but must + beg to be allowed to differ with them. However much I have thought over + and read and talked about the matter, I have always been forced to come to + the conclusion that children must be ruled through FEAR. To make something + of a child, you must make it FEAR something. Is it not so, cousin? And + what, pray, do children fear so much as a rod?” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke she seemed, to look inquiringly at Woloda and myself, and I + confess that I did not feel altogether comfortable. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you may say,” she went on, “a boy of twelve, or even of + fourteen, is still a child and should be whipped as such; but with girls, + perhaps, it is another matter.” + </p> + <p> + “How lucky it is that I am not her son!” I thought to myself. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well,” said Grandmamma, folding up my verses and replacing them + beneath the box (as though, after that exposition of views, the Princess + was unworthy of the honour of listening to such a production). “Very well, + my dear,” she repeated “But please tell me how, in return, you can look + for any delicate sensibility from your children?” + </p> + <p> + Evidently Grandmamma thought this argument unanswerable, for she cut the + subject short by adding: + </p> + <p> + “However, it is a point on which people must follow their own opinions.” + </p> + <p> + The Princess did not choose to reply, but smiled condescendingly, and as + though out of indulgence to the strange prejudices of a person whom she + only PRETENDED to revere. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, by the way, pray introduce me to your young people,” she went on + presently as she threw us another gracious smile. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon we rose and stood looking at the Princess, without in the least + knowing what we ought to do to show that we were being introduced. + </p> + <p> + “Kiss the Princess’s hand,” said Papa. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I hope you will love your old aunt,” she said to Woloda, kissing + his hair, “even though we are not near relatives. But I value friendship + far more than I do degrees of relationship,” she added to Grandmamma, who + nevertheless, remained hostile, and replied: + </p> + <p> + “Eh, my dear? Is that what they think of relationships nowadays?” + </p> + <p> + “Here is my man of the world,” put in Papa, indicating Woloda; “and here + is my poet,” he added as I kissed the small, dry hand of the Princess, + with a vivid picture in my mind of that same hand holding a rod and + applying it vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “WHICH one is the poet?” asked the Princess. + </p> + <p> + “This little one,” replied Papa, smiling; “the one with the tuft of hair + on his top-knot.” + </p> + <p> + “Why need he bother about my tuft?” I thought to myself as I retired into + a corner. “Is there nothing else for him to talk about?” + </p> + <p> + I had strange ideas on manly beauty. I considered Karl Ivanitch one of the + handsomest men in the world, and myself so ugly that I had no need to + deceive myself on that point. Therefore any remark on the subject of my + exterior offended me extremely. I well remember how, one day after + luncheon (I was then six years of age), the talk fell upon my personal + appearance, and how Mamma tried to find good features in my face, and said + that I had clever eyes and a charming smile; how, nevertheless, when Papa + had examined me, and proved the contrary, she was obliged to confess that + I was ugly; and how, when the meal was over and I went to pay her my + respects, she said as she patted my cheek; “You know, Nicolinka, nobody + will ever love you for your face alone, so you must try all the more to be + a good and clever boy.” + </p> + <p> + Although these words of hers confirmed in me my conviction that I was not + handsome, they also confirmed in me an ambition to be just such a boy as + she had indicated. Yet I had my moments of despair at my ugliness, for I + thought that no human being with such a large nose, such thick lips, and + such small grey eyes as mine could ever hope to attain happiness on this + earth. I used to ask God to perform a miracle by changing me into a + beauty, and would have given all that I possessed, or ever hoped to + possess, to have a handsome face. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII — PRINCE IVAN IVANOVITCH + </h2> + <p> + When the Princess had heard my verses and overwhelmed the writer of them + with praise, Grandmamma softened to her a little. She began to address her + in French and to cease calling her “my dear.” Likewise she invited her to + return that evening with her children. This invitation having been + accepted, the Princess took her leave. After that, so many other callers + came to congratulate Grandmamma that the courtyard was crowded all day + long with carriages. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, my dear cousin,” was the greeting of one guest in + particular as he entered the room and kissed Grandmamma’s hand. He was a + man of seventy, with a stately figure clad in a military uniform and + adorned with large epaulettes, an embroidered collar, and a white cross + round the neck. His face, with its quiet and open expression, as well as + the simplicity and ease of his manners, greatly pleased me, for, in spite + of the thin half-circle of hair which was all that was now left to him, + and the want of teeth disclosed by the set of his upper lip, his face was + a remarkably handsome one. + </p> + <p> + Thanks to his fine character, handsome exterior, remarkable valour, + influential relatives, and, above all, good fortune, Prince, Ivan + Ivanovitch had early made himself a career. As that career progressed, his + ambition had met with a success which left nothing more to be sought for + in that direction. From his earliest youth upward he had prepared himself + to fill the exalted station in the world to which fate actually called him + later; wherefore, although in his prosperous life (as in the lives of all) + there had been failures, misfortunes, and cares, he had never lost his + quietness of character, his elevated tone of thought, or his peculiarly + moral, religious bent of mind. Consequently, though he had won the + universal esteem of his fellows, he had done so less through his important + position than through his perseverance and integrity. While not of + specially distinguished intellect, the eminence of his station (whence he + could afford to look down upon all petty questions) had caused him to + adopt high points of view. Though in reality he was kind and sympathetic, + in manner he appeared cold and haughty—probably for the reason that + he had forever to be on his guard against the endless claims and petitions + of people who wished to profit through his influence. Yet even then his + coldness was mitigated by the polite condescension of a man well + accustomed to move in the highest circles of society. Well-educated, his + culture was that of a youth of the end of the last century. He had read + everything, whether philosophy or belles lettres, which that age had + produced in France, and loved to quote from Racine, Corneille, Boileau, + Moliere, Montaigne, and Fenelon. Likewise he had gleaned much history from + Segur, and much of the old classics from French translations of them; but + for mathematics, natural philosophy, or contemporary literature he cared + nothing whatever. However, he knew how to be silent in conversation, as + well as when to make general remarks on authors whom he had never read—such + as Goethe, Schiller, and Byron. Moreover, despite his exclusively French + education, he was simple in speech and hated originality (which he called + the mark of an untutored nature). Wherever he lived, society was a + necessity to him, and, both in Moscow and the country he had his reception + days, on which practically “all the town” called upon him. An introduction + from him was a passport to every drawing-room; few young and pretty ladies + in society objected to offering him their rosy cheeks for a paternal + salute; and people even in the highest positions felt flattered by + invitations to his parties. + </p> + <p> + The Prince had few friends left now like Grandmamma—that is to say, + few friends who were of the same standing as himself, who had had the same + sort of education, and who saw things from the same point of view: + wherefore he greatly valued his intimate, long-standing friendship with + her, and always showed her the highest respect. + </p> + <p> + I hardly dared to look at the Prince, since the honour paid him on all + sides, the huge epaulettes, the peculiar pleasure with which Grandmamma + received him, and the fact that he alone, seemed in no way afraid of her, + but addressed her with perfect freedom (even being so daring as to call + her “cousin”), awakened in me a feeling of reverence for his person almost + equal to that which I felt for Grandmamma herself. + </p> + <p> + On being shown my verses, he called me to his side, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Who knows, my cousin, but that he may prove to be a second Derzhavin?” + Nevertheless he pinched my cheek so hard that I was only prevented from + crying by the thought that it must be meant for a caress. + </p> + <p> + Gradually the other guests dispersed, and with them Papa and Woloda. Thus + only Grandmamma, the Prince, and myself were left in the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Why has our dear Natalia Nicolaevna not come to-day” asked the Prince + after a silence. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my friend,” replied Grandmamma, lowering her voice and laying a hand + upon the sleeve of his uniform, “she would certainly have come if she had + been at liberty to do what she likes. She wrote to me that Peter had + proposed bringing her with him to town, but that she had refused, since + their income had not been good this year, and she could see no real reason + why the whole family need come to Moscow, seeing that Lubotshka was as yet + very young and that the boys were living with me—a fact, she said, + which made her feel as safe about them as though she had been living with + them herself.” + </p> + <p> + “True, it is good for the boys to be here,” went on Grandmamma, yet in a + tone which showed clearly that she did not think it was so very good, + “since it was more than time that they should be sent to Moscow to study, + as well as to learn how to comport themselves in society. What sort of an + education could they have got in the country? The eldest boy will soon be + thirteen, and the second one eleven. As yet, my cousin, they are quite + untaught, and do not know even how to enter a room.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless” said the Prince, “I cannot understand these complaints of + ruined fortunes. He has a very handsome income, and Natalia has + Chabarovska, where we used to act plays, and which I know as well as I do + my own hand. It is a splendid property, and ought to bring in an excellent + return.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Grandmamma with a sad expression on her face, “I do not mind + telling you, as my most intimate friend, that all this seems to me a mere + pretext on his part for living alone, for strolling about from club to + club, for attending dinner-parties, and for resorting to—well, who + knows what? She suspects nothing; you know her angelic sweetness and her + implicit trust of him in everything. He had only to tell her that the + children must go to Moscow and that she must be left behind in the country + with a stupid governess for company, for her to believe him! I almost + think that if he were to say that the children must be whipped just as the + Princess Barbara whips hers, she would believe even that!” and Grandmamma + leant back in her arm-chair with an expression of contempt. Then, after a + moment of silence, during which she took her handkerchief out of her + pocket to wipe away a few tears which had stolen down her cheeks, she + went, on: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my friend, I often think that he cannot value and understand her + properly, and that, for all her goodness and love of him and her + endeavours to conceal her grief (which, however as I know only too well, + exists). She cannot really be happy with him. Mark my words if he does not—” + Here Grandmamma buried her face in the handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear old friend,” said the Prince reproachfully. “I think you are + unreasonable. Why grieve and weep over imagined evils? That is not right. + I have known him a long time, and feel sure that he is an attentive, kind, + and excellent husband, as well as (which is the chief thing of all) a + perfectly honourable man.” + </p> + <p> + At this point, having been an involuntary auditor of a conversation not + meant for my ears, I stole on tiptoe out of the room, in a state of great + distress. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX — THE IWINS + </h2> + <p> + “Woloda, Woloda! The Iwins are just coming.” I shouted on seeing from the + window three boys in blue overcoats, and followed by a young tutor, + advancing along the pavement opposite our house. + </p> + <p> + The Iwins were related to us, and of about the same age as ourselves. We + had made their acquaintance soon after our arrival in Moscow. The second + brother, Seriosha, had dark curly hair, a turned-up, strongly pronounced + nose, very bright red lips (which, never being quite shut, showed a row of + white teeth), beautiful dark-blue eyes, and an uncommonly bold expression + of face. He never smiled but was either wholly serious or laughing a + clear, merry, agreeable laugh. His striking good looks had captivated me + from the first, and I felt an irresistible attraction towards him. Only to + see him filled me with pleasure, and at one time my whole mental faculties + used to be concentrated in the wish that I might do so. If three or four + days passed without my seeing him I felt listless and ready to cry. Awake + or asleep, I was forever dreaming of him. On going to bed I used to see + him in my dreams, and when I had shut my eyes and called up a picture of + him I hugged the vision as my choicest delight. So much store did I set + upon this feeling for my friend that I never mentioned it to any one. + Nevertheless, it must have annoyed him to see my admiring eyes constantly + fixed upon him, or else he must have felt no reciprocal attraction, for he + always preferred to play and talk with Woloda. Still, even with that I + felt satisfied, and wished and asked for nothing better than to be ready + at any time to make any sacrifice for him. Likewise, over and above the + strange fascination which he exercised upon me, I always felt another + sensation, namely, a dread of making him angry, of offending him, of + displeasing him. Was this because his face bore such a haughty expression, + or because I, despising my own exterior, over-rated the beautiful in + others, or, lastly (and most probably), because it is a common sign of + affection? At all events, I felt as much fear, of him as I did love. The + first time that he spoke to me I was so overwhelmed with sudden happiness + that I turned pale, then red, and could not utter a word. He had an ugly + habit of blinking when considering anything seriously, as well as of + twitching his nose and eyebrows. Consequently every one thought that this + habit marred his face. Yet I thought it such a nice one that I + involuntarily adopted it for myself, until, a few days after I had made + his acquaintance, Grandmamma suddenly asked me whether my eyes were + hurting me, since I was winking like an owl! Never a word of affection + passed between us, yet he felt his power over me, and unconsciously but + tyrannically, exercised it in all our childish intercourse. I used to long + to tell him all that was in my heart, yet was too much afraid of him to be + frank in any way, and, while submitting myself to his will, tried to + appear merely careless and indifferent. Although at times his influence + seemed irksome and intolerable, to throw it off was beyond my strength. + </p> + <p> + I often think with regret of that fresh, beautiful feeling of boundless, + disinterested love which came to an end without having ever found + self-expression or return. It is strange how, when a child, I always + longed to be like grown-up people, and yet how I have often longed, since + childhood’s days, for those days to come back to me! Many times, in my + relations with Seriosha, this wish to resemble grown-up people put a rude + check upon the love that was waiting to expand, and made me repress it. + Not only was I afraid of kissing him, or of taking his hand and saying how + glad I was to see him, but I even dreaded calling him “Seriosha” and + always said “Sergius” as every one else did in our house. Any expression + of affection would have seemed like evidence of childishness, and any one + who indulged in it, a baby. Not having yet passed through those bitter + experiences which enforce upon older years circumspection and coldness, I + deprived myself of the pure delight of a fresh, childish instinct for the + absurd purpose of trying to resemble grown-up people. + </p> + <p> + I met the Iwins in the ante-room, welcomed them, and then ran to tell + Grandmamma of their arrival with an expression as happy as though she were + certain to be equally delighted. Then, never taking my eyes off Seriosha, + I conducted the visitors to the drawing-room, and eagerly followed every + movement of my favourite. When Grandmamma spoke to and fixed her + penetrating glance upon him, I experienced that mingled sensation of pride + and solicitude which an artist might feel when waiting for revered lips to + pronounce a judgment upon his work. + </p> + <p> + With Grandmamma’s permission, the Iwins’ young tutor, Herr Frost, + accompanied us into the little back garden, where he seated himself upon a + bench, arranged his legs in a tasteful attitude, rested his brass-knobbed + cane between them, lighted a cigar, and assumed the air of a man + well-pleased with himself. He was a German, but of a very different sort + to our good Karl Ivanitch. In the first place, he spoke both Russian and + French correctly, though with a hard accent Indeed, he enjoyed—especially + among the ladies—the reputation of being a very accomplished fellow. + In the second place, he wore a reddish moustache, a large gold pin set + with a ruby, a black satin tie, and a very fashionable suit. Lastly, he + was young, with a handsome, self-satisfied face and fine muscular legs. It + was clear that he set the greatest store upon the latter, and thought them + beyond compare, especially as regards the favour of the ladies. + Consequently, whether sitting or standing, he always tried to exhibit them + in the most favourable light. In short, he was a type of the young + German-Russian whose main desire is to be thought perfectly gallant and + gentlemanly. + </p> + <p> + In the little garden merriment reigned. In fact, the game of “robbers” + never went better. Yet an incident occurred which came near to spoiling + it. Seriosha was the robber, and in pouncing upon some travellers he fell + down and knocked his leg so badly against a tree that I thought the leg + must be broken. Consequently, though I was the gendarme and therefore + bound to apprehend him, I only asked him anxiously, when I reached him, if + he had hurt himself very much. Nevertheless this threw him into a passion, + and made him exclaim with fists clenched and in a voice which showed by + its faltering what pain he was enduring, “Why, whatever is the matter? Is + this playing the game properly? You ought to arrest me. Why on earth don’t + you do so?” This he repeated several times, and then, seeing Woloda and + the elder Iwin (who were taking the part of the travellers) jumping and + running about the path, he suddenly threw himself upon them with a shout + and loud laughter to effect their capture. I cannot express my wonder and + delight at this valiant behaviour of my hero. In spite of the severe pain, + he had not only refrained from crying, but had repressed the least symptom + of suffering and kept his eye fixed upon the game! Shortly after this + occurrence another boy, Ilinka Grap, joined our party. We went upstairs, + and Seriosha gave me an opportunity of still further appreciating and + taking delight in his manly bravery and fortitude. This was how it was. + </p> + <p> + Ilinka was the son of a poor foreigner who had been under certain + obligations to my Grandpapa, and now thought it incumbent upon him to send + his son to us as frequently as possible. Yet if he thought that the + acquaintance would procure his son any advancement or pleasure, he was + entirely mistaken, for not only were we anything but friendly to Ilinka, + but it was seldom that we noticed him at all except to laugh at him. He + was a boy of thirteen, tall and thin, with a pale, birdlike face, and a + quiet, good-tempered expression. Though poorly dressed, he always had his + head so thickly pomaded that we used to declare that on warm days it + melted and ran down his neck. When I think of him now, it seems to me that + he was a very quiet, obliging, and good-tempered boy, but at the time I + thought him a creature so contemptible that he was not worth either + attention or pity. + </p> + <p> + Upstairs we set ourselves to astonish each other with gymnastic tours de + force. Ilinka watched us with a faint smile of admiration, but refused an + invitation to attempt a similar feat, saying that he had no strength. + </p> + <p> + Seriosha was extremely captivating. His face and eyes glowed with laughter + as he surprised us with tricks which we had never seen before. He jumped + over three chairs put together, turned somersaults right across the room, + and finally stood on his head on a pyramid of Tatistchev’s dictionaries, + moving his legs about with such comical rapidity that it was impossible + not to help bursting with merriment. + </p> + <p> + After this last trick he pondered for a moment (blinking his eyes as + usual), and then went up to Ilinka with a very serious face. + </p> + <p> + “Try and do that,” he said. “It is not really difficult.” + </p> + <p> + Ilinka, observing that the general attention was fixed upon him, blushed, + and said in an almost inaudible voice that he could not do the feat. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what does he mean by doing nothing at all? What a girl the fellow + is! He has just GOT to stand on his head,” and Seriosha, took him by the + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, on your head at once! This instant, this instant!” every one shouted + as we ran upon Ilinka and dragged him to the dictionaries, despite his + being visibly pale and frightened. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me alone! You are tearing my jacket!” cried the unhappy victim, but + his exclamations of despair only encouraged us the more. We were dying + with laughter, while the green jacket was bursting at every seam. + </p> + <p> + Woloda and the eldest Iwin took his head and placed it on the + dictionaries, while Seriosha, and I seized his poor, thin legs (his + struggles had stripped them upwards to the knees), and with boisterous, + laughter held them uptight—the youngest Iwin superintending his + general equilibrium. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a moment of silence occurred amid our boisterous laughter—a + moment during which nothing was to be heard in the room but the panting of + the miserable Ilinka. It occurred to me at that moment that, after all, + there was nothing so very comical and pleasant in all this. + </p> + <p> + “Now, THAT’S a boy!” cried Seriosha, giving Ilinka a smack with his hand. + Ilinka said nothing, but made such desperate movements with his legs to + free himself that his foot suddenly kicked Seriosha in the eye: with the + result that, letting go of Ilinka’s leg and covering the wounded member + with one hand, Seriosha hit out at him with all his might with the other + one. Of course Ilinka’s legs slipped down as, sinking exhausted to the + floor and half-suffocated with tears, he stammered out: + </p> + <p> + “Why should you bully me so?” + </p> + <p> + The poor fellow’s miserable figure, with its streaming tears, ruffled + hair, and crumpled trousers revealing dirty boots, touched us a little, + and we stood silent and trying to smile. + </p> + <p> + Seriosha was the first to recover himself. + </p> + <p> + “What a girl! What a gaby!” he said, giving Ilinka a slight kick. “He + can’t take things in fun a bit. Well, get up, then.” + </p> + <p> + “You are an utter beast! That’s what YOU are!” said Ilinka, turning + miserably away and sobbing. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh! Would it still kick and show temper, then?” cried Seriosha, + seizing a dictionary and throwing it at the unfortunate boy’s head. + Apparently it never occurred to Ilinka to take refuge from the missile; he + merely guarded his head with his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that’s enough now,” added Seriosha, with a forced laugh. “You + DESERVE to be hurt if you can’t take things in fun. Now let’s go + downstairs.” + </p> + <p> + I could not help looking with some compassion at the miserable creature on + the floor as, his face buried in the dictionary, he lay there sobbing + almost as though he were in a fit. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Sergius!” I said. “Why have you done this?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you did it too! Besides, I did not cry this afternoon when I + knocked my leg and nearly broke it.” + </p> + <p> + “True enough,” I thought. “Ilinka is a poor whining sort of a chap, while + Seriosha is a boy—a REAL boy.” + </p> + <p> + It never occurred to my mind that possibly poor Ilinka was suffering far + less from bodily pain than from the thought that five companions for whom + he may have felt a genuine liking had, for no reason at all, combined to + hurt and humiliate him. + </p> + <p> + I cannot explain my cruelty on this occasion. Why did I not step forward + to comfort and protect him? Where was the pitifulness which often made me + burst into tears at the sight of a young bird fallen from its nest, or of + a puppy being thrown over a wall, or of a chicken being killed by the cook + for soup? + </p> + <p> + Can it be that the better instinct in me was overshadowed by my affection + for Seriosha and the desire to shine before so brave a boy? If so, how + contemptible were both the affection and the desire! They alone form dark + spots on the pages of my youthful recollections. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX — PREPARATIONS FOR THE PARTY + </h2> + <p> + To judge from the extraordinary activity in the pantry, the shining + cleanliness which imparted such a new and festal guise to certain articles + in the salon and drawing-room which I had long known as anything but + resplendent, and the arrival of some musicians whom Prince Ivan would + certainly not have sent for nothing, no small amount of company was to be + expected that evening. + </p> + <p> + At the sound of every vehicle which chanced to pass the house I ran to the + window, leaned my head upon my arms, and peered with impatient curiosity + into the street. + </p> + <p> + At last a carriage stopped at our door, and, in the full belief that this + must be the Iwins, who had promised to come early, I at once ran + downstairs to meet them in the hall. + </p> + <p> + But, instead of the Iwins, I beheld from behind the figure of the footman + who opened the door two female figures-one tall and wrapped in a blue + cloak trimmed with marten, and the other one short and wrapped in a green + shawl from beneath which a pair of little feet, stuck into fur boots, + peeped forth. + </p> + <p> + Without paying any attention to my presence in the hall (although I + thought it my duty, on the appearance of these persons to salute them), + the shorter one moved towards the taller, and stood silently in front of + her. Thereupon the tall lady untied the shawl which enveloped the head of + the little one, and unbuttoned the cloak which hid her form; until, by the + time that the footmen had taken charge of these articles and removed the + fur boots, there stood forth from the amorphous chrysalis a charming girl + of twelve, dressed in a short muslin frock, white pantaloons, and smart + black satin shoes. Around her, white neck she wore a narrow black velvet + ribbon, while her head was covered with flaxen curls which so perfectly + suited her beautiful face in front and her bare neck and shoulders behind + that I, would have believed nobody, not even Karl Ivanitch, if he, or she + had told me that they only hung so nicely because, ever since the morning, + they had been screwed up in fragments of a Moscow newspaper and then + warmed with a hot iron. To me it seemed as though she must have been born + with those curls. + </p> + <p> + The most prominent feature in her face was a pair of unusually large + half-veiled eyes, which formed a strange, but pleasing, contrast to the + small mouth. Her lips were closed, while her eyes looked so grave that the + general expression of her face gave one the impression that a smile was + never to be looked for from her: wherefore, when a smile did come, it was + all the more pleasing. + </p> + <p> + Trying to escape notice, I slipped through the door of the salon, and then + thought it necessary to be seen pacing to and fro, seemingly engaged in + thought, as though unconscious of the arrival of guests. + </p> + <p> + BY the time, however, that the ladies had advanced to the middle of the + salon I seemed suddenly to awake from my reverie and told them that + Grandmamma was in the drawing room, Madame Valakhin, whose face pleased me + extremely (especially since it bore a great resemblance to her + daughter’s), stroked my head kindly. + </p> + <p> + Grandmamma seemed delighted to see Sonetchka. She invited her to come to + her, put back a curl which had fallen over her brow, and looking earnestly + at her said, “What a charming child!” + </p> + <p> + Sonetchka blushed, smiled, and, indeed, looked so charming that I myself + blushed as I looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you are going to enjoy yourself here, my love,” said Grandmamma. + “Pray be as merry and dance as much as ever you can. See, we have two + beaux for her already,” she added, turning to Madame Valakhin, and + stretching out her hand to me. + </p> + <p> + This coupling of Sonetchka and myself pleased me so much that I blushed + again. + </p> + <p> + Feeling, presently, that, my embarrassment was increasing, and hearing the + sound of carriages approaching, I thought it wise to retire. In the hall I + encountered the Princess Kornakoff, her son, and an incredible number of + daughters. They had all of them the same face as their mother, and were + very ugly. None of them arrested my attention. They talked in shrill tones + as they took off their cloaks and boas, and laughed as they bustled about—probably + at the fact that there were so many of them! + </p> + <p> + Etienne was a boy of fifteen, tall and plump, with a sharp face, deep-set + bluish eyes, and very large hands and feet for his age. Likewise he was + awkward, and had a nervous, unpleasing voice. Nevertheless he seemed very + pleased with himself, and was, in my opinion, a boy who could well bear + being beaten with rods. + </p> + <p> + For a long time we confronted one another without speaking as we took + stock of each other. When the flood of dresses had swept past I made shift + to begin a conversation by asking him whether it had not been very close + in the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” he answered indifferently. “I never ride inside it, for it + makes me feel sick directly, and Mamma knows that. Whenever we are driving + anywhere at night-time I always sit on the box. I like that, for then one + sees everything. Philip gives me the reins, and sometimes the whip too, + and then the people inside get a regular—well, you know,” he added + with a significant gesture “It’s splendid then.” + </p> + <p> + “Master Etienne,” said a footman, entering the hall, “Philip wishes me to + ask you where you put the whip.” + </p> + <p> + “Where I put it? Why, I gave it back to him.” + </p> + <p> + “But he says that you did not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I laid it across the carriage-lamps!” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, he says that you did not do that either. You had better confess + that you took it and lashed it to shreds. I suppose poor Philip will have + to make good your mischief out of his own pocket.” The footman (who looked + a grave and honest man) seemed much put out by the affair, and determined + to sift it to the bottom on Philip’s behalf. + </p> + <p> + Out of delicacy I pretended to notice nothing and turned aside, but the + other footmen present gathered round and looked approvingly at the old + servant. + </p> + <p> + “Hm—well, I DID tear it in pieces,” at length confessed Etienne, + shrinking from further explanations. “However, I will pay for it. Did you + ever hear anything so absurd?” he added to me as he drew me towards the + drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “But excuse me, sir; HOW are you going to pay for it? I know your ways of + paying. You have owed Maria Valericana twenty copecks these eight months + now, and you have owed me something for two years, and Peter for—” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue, will you!” shouted the young fellow, pale with rage, “I + shall report you for this.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you may do so,” said the footman. “Yet it is not fair, your + highness,” he added, with a peculiar stress on the title, as he departed + with the ladies’ wraps to the cloak-room. We ourselves entered the salon. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, footman,” remarked someone approvingly from the ball behind + us. + </p> + <p> + Grandmamma had a peculiar way of employing, now the second person + singular, now the second person plural, in order to indicate her opinion + of people. When the young Prince Etienne went up to her she addressed him + as “YOU,” and altogether looked at him with such an expression of contempt + that, had I been in his place, I should have been utterly crestfallen. + Etienne, however, was evidently not a boy of that sort, for he not only + took no notice of her reception of him, but none of her person either. In + fact, he bowed to the company at large in a way which, though not + graceful, was at least free from embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + Sonetchka now claimed my whole attention. I remember that, as I stood in + the salon with Etienne and Woloda, at a spot whence we could both see and + be seen by Sonetchka, I took great pleasure in talking very loud (and all + my utterances seemed to me both bold and comical) and glancing towards the + door of the drawing-room, but that, as soon as ever we happened to move to + another spot whence we could neither see nor be seen by her, I became + dumb, and thought the conversation had ceased to be enjoyable. The rooms + were now full of people—among them (as at all children’s parties) a + number of elder children who wished to dance and enjoy themselves very + much, but who pretended to do everything merely in order to give pleasure + to the mistress of the house. + </p> + <p> + When the Iwins arrived I found that, instead of being as delighted as + usual to meet Seriosha, I felt a kind of vexation that he should see and + be seen by Sonetchka. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI — BEFORE THE MAZURKA + </h2> + <p> + “HULLO, Woloda! So we are going to dance to-night,” said Seriosha, issuing + from the drawing-room and taking out of his pocket a brand new pair of + gloves. “I suppose it IS necessary to put on gloves?” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness! What shall I do? We have no gloves,” I thought to myself. “I + must go upstairs and search about.” Yet though I rummaged in every drawer, + I only found, in one of them, my green travelling mittens, and, in + another, a single lilac-coloured glove, a thing which could be of no use + to me, firstly, because it was very old and dirty, secondly, because it + was much too large for me, and thirdly (and principally), because the + middle finger was wanting—Karl having long ago cut it off to wear + over a sore nail. + </p> + <p> + However, I put it on—not without some diffident contemplation of the + blank left by the middle finger and of the ink-stained edges round the + vacant space. + </p> + <p> + “If only Natalia Savishna had been here,” I reflected, “we should + certainly have found some gloves. I can’t go downstairs in this condition. + Yet, if they ask me why I am not dancing, what am I to say? However, I + can’t remain here either, or they will be sending upstairs to fetch me. + What on earth am I to do?” and I wrung my hands. + </p> + <p> + “What are you up to here?” asked Woloda as he burst into the room. “Go and + engage a partner. The dancing will be beginning directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Woloda,” I said despairingly, as I showed him my hand with two fingers + thrust into a single finger of the dirty glove, “Woloda, you, never + thought of this.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what?” he said impatiently. “Oh, of gloves,” he added with a careless + glance at my hand. “That’s nothing. We can ask Grandmamma what she thinks + about it,” and without further ado he departed downstairs. I felt a trifle + relieved by the coolness with which he had met a situation which seemed to + me so grave, and hastened back to the drawing-room, completely forgetful + of the unfortunate glove which still adorned my left hand. + </p> + <p> + Cautiously approaching Grandmamma’s arm-chair, I asked her in a whisper: + </p> + <p> + “Grandmamma, what are we to do? We have no gloves.” + </p> + <p> + “What, my love?” + </p> + <p> + “We have no gloves,” I repeated, at the same time bending over towards her + and laying both hands on the arm of her chair. + </p> + <p> + “But what is that?” she cried as she caught hold of my left hand. “Look, + my dear!” she continued, turning to Madame Valakhin. “See how smart this + young man has made himself to dance with your daughter!” + </p> + <p> + As Grandmamma persisted in retaining hold of my hand and gazing with a + mock air of gravity and interrogation at all around her, curiosity was + soon aroused, and a general roar of laughter ensued. + </p> + <p> + I should have been infuriated at the thought that Seriosha was present to + see this, as I scowled with embarrassment and struggled hard to free my + hand, had it not been that somehow Sonetchka’s laughter (and she was + laughing to such a degree that the tears were standing in her eyes and the + curls dancing about her lovely face) took away my feeling of humiliation. + I felt that her laughter was not satirical, but only natural and free; so + that, as we laughed together and looked at one another, there seemed to + begin a kind of sympathy between us. Instead of turning out badly, + therefore, the episode of the glove served only to set me at my ease among + the dreaded circle of guests, and to make me cease to feel oppressed with + shyness. The sufferings of shy people proceed only from the doubts which + they feel concerning the opinions of their fellows. No sooner are those + opinions expressed (whether flattering or the reverse) than the agony + disappears. + </p> + <p> + How lovely Sonetchka looked when she was dancing a quadrille as my + vis-a-vis, with, as her partner, the loutish Prince Etienne! How + charmingly she smiled when, en chaine, she accorded me her hand! How + gracefully the curls, around her head nodded to the rhythm, and how + naively she executed the jete assemble with her little feet! + </p> + <p> + In the fifth figure, when my partner had to leave me for the other side + and I, counting the beats, was getting ready to dance my solo, she pursed + her lips gravely and looked in another direction; but her fears for me + were groundless. Boldly I performed the chasse en avant and chasse en + arriere glissade, until, when it came to my turn to move towards her and + I, with a comic gesture, showed her the poor glove with its crumpled + fingers, she laughed heartily, and seemed to move her tiny feet more + enchantingly than ever over the parquetted floor. + </p> + <p> + How well I remember how we formed the circle, and how, without withdrawing + her hand from mine, she scratched her little nose with her glove! All this + I can see before me still. Still can I hear the quadrille from “The Maids + of the Danube” to which we danced that night. + </p> + <p> + The second quadrille, I danced with Sonetchka herself; yet when we went to + sit down together during the interval, I felt overcome with shyness and as + though I had nothing to say. At last, when my silence had lasted so long + that I began to be afraid that she would think me a stupid boy, I decided + at all hazards to counteract such a notion. + </p> + <p> + “Vous etes une habitante de Moscou?” I began, and, on receiving an + affirmative answer, continued. “Et moi, je n’ai encore jamais frequente la + capitale” (with a particular emphasis on the word “frequente”). Yet I felt + that, brilliant though this introduction might be as evidence of my + profound knowledge of the French language, I could not long keep up the + conversation in that manner. Our turn for dancing had not yet arrived, and + silence again ensued between us. I kept looking anxiously at her in the + hope both of discerning what impression I had produced and of her coming + to my aid. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you get that ridiculous glove of yours?” she asked me all of a + sudden, and the question afforded me immense satisfaction and relief. I + replied that the glove belonged to Karl Ivanitch, and then went on to + speak ironically of his appearance, and to describe how comical he looked + in his red cap, and how he and his green coat had once fallen plump off a + horse into a pond. + </p> + <p> + The quadrille was soon over. Yet why had I spoken ironically of poor Karl + Ivanitch? Should I, forsooth, have sunk in Sonetchka’s esteem if, on the + contrary, I had spoken of him with the love and respect which I + undoubtedly bore him? + </p> + <p> + The quadrille ended, Sonetchka said, “Thank you,” with as lovely an + expression on her face as though I had really conferred, upon her a + favour. I was delighted. In fact I hardly knew myself for joy and could + not think whence I derived such case and confidence and even daring. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing in the world can abash me now,” I thought as I wandered + carelessly about the salon. “I am ready for anything.” + </p> + <p> + Just then Seriosha came and requested me to be his vis-a-vis. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” I said. “I have no partner as yet, but I can soon find one.” + </p> + <p> + Glancing round the salon with a confident eye, I saw that every lady was + engaged save one—a tall girl standing near the drawing-room door. + Yet a grown-up young man was approaching her-probably for the same purpose + as myself! He was but two steps from her, while I was at the further end + of the salon. Doing a glissade over the polished floor, I covered the + intervening space, and in a brave, firm voice asked the favour of her hand + in the quadrille. Smiling with a protecting air, the young lady accorded + me her hand, and the tall young man was left without a partner. I felt so + conscious of my strength that I paid no attention to his irritation, + though I learnt later that he had asked somebody who the awkward, untidy + boy was who, had taken away his lady from him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXII — THE MAZURKA + </h2> + <p> + AFTERWARDS the same young man formed one of the first couple in a mazurka. + He sprang to his feet, took his partner’s hand, and then, instead of + executing the pas de Basques which Mimi had taught us, glided forward till + he arrived at a corner of the room, stopped, divided his feet, turned on + his heels, and, with a spring, glided back again. I, who had found no + partner for this particular dance and was sitting on the arm of + Grandmamma’s chair, thought to myself: + </p> + <p> + “What on earth is he doing? That is not what Mimi taught us. And there are + the Iwins and Etienne all dancing in the same way-without the pas de + Basques! Ah! and there is Woloda too! He too is adopting the new style, + and not so badly either. And there is Sonetchka, the lovely one! Yes, + there she comes!” I felt immensely happy at that moment. + </p> + <p> + The mazurka came to an end, and already some of the guests were saying + good-bye to Grandmamma. She was evidently tired, yet she assured them that + she felt vexed at their early departure. Servants were gliding about with + plates and trays among the dancers, and the musicians were carelessly + playing the same tune for about the thirteenth time in succession, when + the young lady whom I had danced with before, and who was just about to + join in another mazurka, caught sight of me, and, with a kindly smile, led + me to Sonetchka. And one of the innumerable Kornakoff princesses, at the + same time asking me, “Rose or Hortie?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, so it’s YOU!” said Grandmamma as she turned round in her armchair. + “Go and dance, then, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + Although I would fain have taken refuge behind the armchair rather than + leave its shelter, I could not refuse; so I got up, said, “Rose,” and + looked at Sonetchka. Before I had time to realise it, however, a hand in a + white glove laid itself on mine, and the Kornakoff girl stepped forth with + a pleased smile and evidently no suspicion that I was ignorant of the + steps of the dance. I only knew that the pas de Basques (the only figure + of it which I had been taught) would be out of place. However, the strains + of the mazurka falling upon my ears, and imparting their usual impulse to + my acoustic nerves (which, in their turn, imparted their usual impulse to + my feet), I involuntarily, and to the amazement of the spectators, began + executing on tiptoe the sole (and fatal) pas which I had been taught. + </p> + <p> + So long as we went straight ahead I kept fairly right, but when it came to + turning I saw that I must make preparations to arrest my course. + Accordingly, to avoid any appearance of awkwardness, I stopped short, with + the intention of imitating the “wheel about” which I had seen the young + man perform so neatly. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, just as I divided my feet and prepared to make a spring, + the Princess Kornakoff looked sharply round at my legs with such an + expression of stupefied amazement and curiosity that the glance undid me. + Instead of continuing to dance, I remained moving my legs up and down on + the same spot, in a sort of extraordinary fashion which bore no relation + whatever either to form or rhythm. At last I stopped altogether. Every-one + was looking at me—some with curiosity, some with astonishment, some + with disdain, and some with compassion, Grandmamma alone seemed unmoved. + </p> + <p> + “You should not dance if you don’t know the step,” said Papa’s angry voice + in my ear as, pushing me gently aside, he took my partner’s hand, + completed the figures with her to the admiration of every one, and finally + led her back to, her place. The mazurka was at an end. + </p> + <p> + Ah me! What had I done to be punished so heavily? + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “Every one despises me, and will always despise me,” I thought to myself. + “The way is closed for me to friendship, love, and fame! All, all is + lost!” + </p> + <p> + Why had Woloda made signs to me which every one saw, yet which could in no + way help me? Why had that disgusting princess looked at my legs? Why had + Sonetchka—she was a darling, of course!—yet why, oh why, had + she smiled at that moment? + </p> + <p> + Why had Papa turned red and taken my hand? Can it be that he was ashamed + of me? + </p> + <p> + Oh, it was dreadful! Alas, if only Mamma had been there she would never + have blushed for her Nicolinka! + </p> + <p> + How on the instant that dear image led my imagination captive! I seemed to + see once more the meadow before our house, the tall lime-trees in the + garden, the clear pond where the ducks swain, the blue sky dappled with + white clouds, the sweet-smelling ricks of hay. How those memories—aye, + and many another quiet, beloved recollection—floated through my mind + at that time! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIII — AFTER THE MAZURKA + </h2> + <p> + At supper the young man whom I have mentioned seated himself beside me at + the children’s table, and treated me with an amount of attention which + would have flattered my self-esteem had I been able, after the occurrence + just related, to give a thought to anything beyond my failure in the + mazurka. However, the young man seemed determined to cheer me up. He + jested, called me “old boy,” and finally (since none of the elder folks + were looking at us) began to help me to wine, first from one bottle and + then from another and to force me to drink it off quickly. + </p> + <p> + By the time (towards the end of supper) that a servant had poured me out a + quarter of a glass of champagne, and the young man had straightway bid him + fill it up and urged me to drink the beverage off at a draught, I had + begun to feel a grateful warmth diffusing itself through my body. I also + felt well-disposed towards my kind patron, and began to laugh heartily at + everything. Suddenly the music of the Grosvater dance struck up, and every + one rushed from the table. My friendship with the young man had now + outlived its day; so, whereas he joined a group of the older folks, I + approached Madame Valakhin to hear what she and her daughter had to say to + one another. + </p> + <p> + “Just HALF-an-hour more?” Sonetchka was imploring her. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible, my dearest.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet, only to please me—just this ONCE?” Sonetchka went on + persuasively. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what if I should be ill to-morrow through all this dissipation?” + rejoined her mother, and was incautious enough to smile. + </p> + <p> + “There! You DO consent, and we CAN stay after all!” exclaimed Sonetchka, + jumping for joy. + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done with such a girl?” said Madame. “Well, run away and + dance. See,” she added on perceiving myself, “here is a cavalier ready + waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + Sonetchka gave me her hand, and we darted off to the salon. The wine, + added to Sonetchka’s presence and gaiety, had at once made me forget all + about the unfortunate end of the mazurka. I kept executing the most + splendid feats with my legs—now imitating a horse as he throws out + his hoofs in the trot, now stamping like a sheep infuriated at a dog, and + all the while laughing regardless of appearances. + </p> + <p> + Sonetchka also laughed unceasingly, whether we were whirling round in a + circle or whether we stood still to watch an old lady whose painful + movements with her feet showed the difficulty she had in walking. Finally + Sonetchka nearly died of merriment when I jumped half-way to the ceiling + in proof of my skill. + </p> + <p> + As I passed a mirror in Grandmamma’s boudoir and glanced at myself I could + see that my face was all in a perspiration and my hair dishevelled—the + top-knot, in particular, being more erect than ever. Yet my general + appearance looked so happy, healthy, and good-tempered that I felt wholly + pleased with myself. + </p> + <p> + “If I were always as I am now,” I thought, “I might yet be able to please + people with my looks.” Yet as soon as I glanced at my partner’s face + again, and saw there not only the expression of happiness, health, and + good temper which had just pleased me in my own, but also a fresh and + enchanting beauty besides, I felt dissatisfied with myself again. I + understood how silly of me it was to hope to attract the attention of such + a wonderful being as Sonetchka. I could not hope for reciprocity—could + not even think of it, yet my heart was overflowing with happiness. I could + not imagine that the feeling of love which was filling my soul so + pleasantly could require any happiness still greater, or wish for more + than that that happiness should never cease. I felt perfectly contented. + My heart beat like that of a dove, with the blood constantly flowing back + to it, and I almost wept for joy. + </p> + <p> + As we passed through the hall and peered into a little dark store-room + beneath the staircase I thought: “What bliss it would be if I could pass + the rest of my life with her in that dark corner, and never let anybody + know that we were there!” + </p> + <p> + “It HAS been a delightful evening, hasn’t it?” I asked her in a low, + tremulous voice. Then I quickened my steps—as much out of fear of + what I had said as out of fear of what I had meant to imply. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, VERY!” she answered, and turned her face to look at me with an + expression so kind that I ceased to be afraid. I went on: + </p> + <p> + “Particularly since supper. Yet if you could only know how I regret” (I + had nearly said) “how miserable I am at your going, and to think that we + shall see each other no more!” + </p> + <p> + “But why SHOULDN’T we?” she asked, looking gravely at the corner of her + pocket-handkerchief, and gliding her fingers over a latticed screen which + we were passing. “Every Tuesday and Friday I go with Mamma to the Iverskoi + Prospect. I suppose you go for walks too sometimes?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, certainly I shall ask to go for one next Tuesday, and, if they + won’t take me I shall go by myself—even without my hat, if + necessary. I know the way all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what I have just thought of?” she went on. “You know, I call + some of the boys who come to see us THOU. Shall you and I call each other + THOU too? Wilt THOU?” she added, bending her head towards me and looking + me straight in the eyes. + </p> + <p> + At this moment a more lively section of the Grosvater dance began. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your hand,” I said, under the impression that the music and din + would drown my exact words, but she smilingly replied, “THY hand, not YOUR + hand.” Yet the dance was over before I had succeeded in saying THOU, even + though I kept conning over phrases in which the pronoun could be employed—and + employed more than once. All that I wanted was the courage to say it. + </p> + <p> + “Wilt THOU?” and “THY hand” sounded continually in my ears, and caused in + me a kind of intoxication I could hear and see nothing but Sonetchka. I + watched her mother take her curls, lay them flat behind her ears (thus + disclosing portions of her forehead and temples which I had not yet seen), + and wrap her up so completely in the green shawl that nothing was left + visible but the tip of her nose. Indeed, I could see that, if her little + rosy fingers had not made a small, opening near her mouth, she would have + been unable to breathe. Finally I saw her leave her mother’s arm for an + instant on the staircase, and turn and nod to us quickly before she + disappeared through the doorway. + </p> + <p> + Woloda, the Iwins, the young Prince Etienne, and myself were all of us in + love with Sonetchka and all of us standing on the staircase to follow her + with our eyes. To whom in particular she had nodded I do not know, but at + the moment I firmly believed it to be myself. In taking leave of the + Iwins, I spoke quite unconcernedly, and even coldly, to Seriosha before I + finally shook hands with him. Though he tried to appear absolutely + indifferent, I think that he understood that from that day forth he had + lost both my affection and his power over me, as well as that he regretted + it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIV — IN BED + </h2> + <p> + “How could I have managed to be so long and so passionately devoted to + Seriosha?” I asked myself as I lay in bed that night. “He never either + understood, appreciated, or deserved my love. But Sonetchka! What a + darling SHE is! ‘Wilt THOU?’—‘THY hand’!” + </p> + <p> + I crept closer to the pillows, imagined to myself her lovely face, covered + my head over with the bedclothes, tucked the counterpane in on all sides, + and, thus snugly covered, lay quiet and enjoying the warmth until I became + wholly absorbed in pleasant fancies and reminiscences. + </p> + <p> + If I stared fixedly at the inside of the sheet above me I found that I + could see her as clearly as I had done an hour ago could talk to her in my + thoughts, and, though it was a conversation of irrational tenor, I derived + the greatest delight from it, seeing that “THOU” and “THINE” and “for + THEE” and “to THEE” occurred in it incessantly. These fancies were so + vivid that I could not sleep for the sweetness of my emotion, and felt as + though I must communicate my superabundant happiness to some one. + </p> + <p> + “The darling!” I said, half-aloud, as I turned over; then, “Woloda, are + you asleep?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied in a sleepy voice. “What’s the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I am in love, Woloda—terribly in love with Sonetchka” + </p> + <p> + “Well? Anything else?” he replied, stretching himself. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you cannot imagine what I feel just now, as I lay covered over + with the counterpane, I could see her and talk to her so clearly that it + was marvellous! And, do you know, while I was lying thinking about her—I + don’t know why it was, but all at once I felt so sad that I could have + cried.” + </p> + <p> + Woloda made a movement of some sort. + </p> + <p> + “One thing only I wish for,” I continued; “and that is that I could always + be with her and always be seeing her. Just that. You are in love too, I + believe. Confess that you are.” + </p> + <p> + It was strange, but somehow I wanted every one to be in love with + Sonetchka, and every one to tell me that they were so. + </p> + <p> + “So that’s how it is with you? “ said Woloda, turning round to me. “Well, + I can understand it.” + </p> + <p> + “I can see that you cannot sleep,” I remarked, observing by his bright + eyes that he was anything but drowsy. “Well, cover yourself over SO” (and + I pulled the bedclothes over him), “and then let us talk about her. Isn’t + she splendid? If she were to say to me, ‘Nicolinka, jump out of the + window,’ or ‘jump into the fire,’ I should say, ‘Yes, I will do it at once + and rejoice in doing it.’ Oh, how glorious she is!” + </p> + <p> + I went on picturing her again and again to my imagination, and, to enjoy + the vision the better, turned over on my side and buried my head in the + pillows, murmuring, “Oh, I want to cry, Woloda.” + </p> + <p> + “What a fool you are!” he said with a slight laugh. Then, after a moment’s + silence he added: “I am not like you. I think I would rather sit and talk + with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Then you ARE in love with her!” I interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “And then,” went on Woloda, smiling tenderly, “kiss her fingers and eyes + and lips and nose and feet—kiss all of her.” + </p> + <p> + “How absurd!” I exclaimed from beneath the pillows. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you don’t understand things,” said Woloda with contempt. + </p> + <p> + “I DO understand. It’s you who don’t understand things, and you talk + rubbish, too,” I replied, half-crying. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there is nothing to cry about,” he concluded. “She is only a girl.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXV — THE LETTER + </h2> + <p> + ON the 16th of April, nearly six months after the day just described, Papa + entered our schoolroom and told us that that night we must start with him + for our country house. I felt a pang at my heart when I heard the news, + and my thoughts at once turned to Mamma. The cause of our unexpected + departure was the following letter: + </p> + <p> + “PETROVSKOE, 12th April. + </p> + <p> + “Only this moment (i.e. at ten o’clock in the evening) have I received + your dear letter of the 3rd of April, but as usual, I answer it at once. + Fedor brought it yesterday from town, but, as it was late, he did not give + it to Mimi till this morning, and Mimi (since I was unwell) kept it from + me all day. I have been a little feverish. In fact, to tell the truth, + this is the fourth day that I have been in bed. + </p> + <p> + “Yet do not be uneasy. I feel almost myself again now, and if Ivan + Vassilitch should allow me, I think of getting up to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + “On Friday last I took the girls for a drive, and, close to the little + bridge by the turning on to the high road (the place which always makes me + nervous), the horses and carriage stuck fast in the mud. Well, the day + being fine, I thought that we would walk a little up the road until the + carriage should be extricated, but no sooner had we reached the chapel + than I felt obliged to sit down, I was so tired, and in this way + half-an-hour passed while help was being sent for to get the carriage dug + out. I felt cold, for I had only thin boots on, and they had been wet + through. After luncheon too, I had alternate cold and hot fits, yet still + continued to follow our ordinary routine. + </p> + <p> + “When tea was over I sat down to the piano to play a duct with Lubotshka, + (you would be astonished to hear what progress she has made!), but imagine + my surprise when I found that I could not count the beats! Several times I + began to do so, yet always felt confused in my head, and kept hearing + strange noises in my ears. I would begin ‘One-two-three—’ and then + suddenly go on ‘-eight-fifteen,’ and so on, as though I were talking + nonsense and could not help it. At last Mimi came to my assistance and + forced me to retire to bed. That was how my illness began, and it was all + through my own fault. The next day I had a good deal of fever, and our + good Ivan Vassilitch came. He has not left us since, but promises soon to + restore me to the world. + </p> + <p> + “What a wonderful old man he is! While I was feverish and delirious he sat + the whole night by my bedside without once closing his eyes; and at this + moment (since he knows I am busy writing) he is with the girls in the + divannaia, and I can hear him telling them German stories, and them + laughing as they listen to him. + </p> + <p> + “‘La Belle Flamande,’ as you call her, is now spending her second week + here as my guest (her mother having gone to pay a visit somewhere), and + she is most attentive and attached to me. She even tells me her secret + affairs. Under different circumstances her beautiful face, good temper, + and youth might have made a most excellent girl of her, but in the society + in which according to her own account, she moves she will be wasted. The + idea has more than once occurred to me that, had I not had so many + children of my own, it would have been a deed of mercy to have adopted + her. + </p> + <p> + “Lubotshka had meant to write to you herself, but she has torn up three + sheets of paper, saying: ‘I know what a quizzer Papa always is. If he were + to find a single fault in my letter he would show it to everybody.’ + Katenka is as charming as usual, and Mimi, too, is good, but tiresome. + </p> + <p> + “Now let me speak of more serious matters. You write to me that your + affairs are not going well this winter, and that you wish to break into + the revenues of Chabarovska. It seems to me strange that you should think + it necessary to ask my consent. Surely what belongs to me belongs no less + to you? You are so kind-hearted, dear, that, for fear of worrying me, you + conceal the real state of things, but I can guess that you have lost a + great deal at cards, as also that you are afraid of my being angry at + that. Yet, so long as you can tide over this crisis, I shall not think + much of it, and you need not be uneasy, I have grown accustomed to no + longer relying, so far as the children are concerned, upon your gains at + play, nor yet—excuse me for saying so—upon your income. + Therefore your losses cause me as little anxiety as your gains give me + pleasure. What I really grieve over is your unhappy passion itself for + gambling—a passion which bereaves me of part of your tender + affection and obliges me to tell you such bitter truths as (God knows with + what pain) I am now telling you. I never cease to beseech Him that He may + preserve us, not from poverty (for what is poverty?), but from the + terrible juncture which would arise should the interests of the children, + which I am called upon to protect, ever come into collision with our own. + Hitherto God has listened to my prayers. You have never yet overstepped + the limit beyond which we should be obliged either to sacrifice property + which would no longer belong to us, but to the children, or—It is + terrible to think of, but the dreadful misfortune at which I hint is + forever hanging over our heads. Yes, it is the heavy cross which God has + given us both to carry. + </p> + <p> + “Also, you write about the children, and come back to our old point of + difference by asking my consent to your placing them at a boarding-school. + You know my objection to that kind of education. I do not know, dear, + whether you will accede to my request, but I nevertheless beseech you, by + your love for me, to give me your promise that never so long as I am + alive, nor yet after my death (if God should see fit to separate us), + shall such a thing be done. + </p> + <p> + “Also you write that our affairs render it indispensable for you to visit + St. Petersburg. The Lord go with you! Go and return as, soon as possible. + Without you we shall all of us be lonely. + </p> + <p> + “Spring is coming in beautifully. We keep the door on to the terrace + always open now, while the path to the orangery is dry and the peach-trees + are in full blossom. Only here and there is there a little snow remaining. + The swallows are arriving, and to-day Lubotshka brought me the first + flowers. The doctor says that in about three days’ time I shall be well + again and able to take the open air and to enjoy the April sun. Now, au + revoir, my dearest one. Do not be alarmed, I beg of you, either on account + of my illness or on account of your losses at play. End the crisis as soon + as possible, and then return here with the children for the summer. I am + making wonderful plans for our passing of it, and I only need your + presence to realise them.” + </p> + <p> + The rest of the letter was written in French, as well as in a strange, + uncertain hand, on another piece of paper. I transcribe it word for word: + </p> + <p> + “Do not believe what I have just written to you about my illness. It is + more serious than any one knows. I alone know that I shall never leave my + bed again. Do not, therefore, delay a minute in coming here with the + children. Perhaps it may yet be permitted me to embrace and bless them. It + is my last wish that it should be so. I know what a terrible blow this + will be to you, but you would have had to hear it sooner or later—if + not from me, at least from others. Let us try to, bear the Calamity with + fortitude, and place our trust in the mercy of God. Let us submit + ourselves to His will. Do not think that what I am writing is some + delusion of my sick imagination. On the contrary, I am perfectly clear at + this moment, and absolutely calm. Nor must you comfort yourself with the + false hope that these are the unreal, confused feelings of a despondent + spirit, for I feel indeed, I know, since God has deigned to reveal it to + me—that I have now but a very short time to live. Will my love for + you and the children cease with my life? I know that that can never be. At + this moment I am too full of that love to be capable of believing that + such a feeling (which constitutes a part of my very existence) can ever, + perish. My soul can never lack its love for you; and I know that that love + will exist for ever, since such a feeling could never have been awakened + if it were not to be eternal. I shall no longer be with you, yet I firmly + believe that my love will cleave to you always, and from that thought I + glean such comfort that I await the approach of death calmly and without + fear. Yes, I am calm, and God knows that I have ever looked, and do look + now, upon death as no more than the passage to a better life. Yet why do + tears blind my eyes? Why should the children lose a mother’s love? Why + must you, my husband, experience such a heavy and unlooked-for blow? Why + must I die when your love was making life so inexpressibly happy for me? + </p> + <p> + “But His holy will be done! + </p> + <p> + “The tears prevent my writing more. It may be that I shall never see you + again. I thank you, my darling beyond all price, for all the felicity with + which you have surrounded me in this life. Soon I shall appear before God + Himself to pray that He may reward you. Farewell, my dearest! Remember + that, if I am no longer here, my love will none the less NEVER AND NOWHERE + fail you. Farewell, Woloda—farewell, my pet! Farewell, my Benjamin, + my little Nicolinka! Surely they will never forget me?” + </p> + <p> + With this letter had come also a French note from Mimi, in which the + latter said: + </p> + <p> + “The sad circumstances of which she has written to you are but too surely + confirmed by the words of the doctor. Yesterday evening she ordered the + letter to be posted at once, but, thinking at she did so in delirium, I + waited until this morning, with the intention of sealing and sending it + then. Hardly had I done so when Natalia Nicolaevna asked me what I had + done with the letter and told me to burn it if not yet despatched. She is + forever speaking of it, and saying that it will kill you. Do not delay + your departure for an instant if you wish to see the angel before she + leaves us. Pray excuse this scribble, but I have not slept now for three + nights. You know how much I love her.” + </p> + <p> + Later I heard from Natalia Savishna (who passed the whole of the night of + the 11th April at Mamma’s bedside) that, after writing the first part of + the letter, Mamma laid it down upon the table beside her and went to sleep + for a while. + </p> + <p> + “I confess,” said Natalia Savishna, “that I too fell asleep in the + arm-chair, and let my knitting slip from my hands. Suddenly, towards one + o’clock in the morning, I heard her saying something; whereupon I opened + my eyes and looked at her. My darling was sitting up in bed, with her + hands clasped together and streams of tears gushing from her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is all over now,’ she said, and hid her face in her hands. + </p> + <p> + “I sprang to my feet, and asked what the matter was. + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah, Natalia Savishna, if you could only know what I have just seen!’ she + said; yet, for all my asking, she would say no more, beyond commanding me + to hand her the letter. To that letter she added something, and then said + that it must be sent off directly. From that moment she grew, rapidly + worse.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVI — WHAT AWAITED US AT THE COUNTRY-HOUSE + </h2> + <p> + On the 18th of April we descended from the carriage at the front door of + the house at Petrovskoe. All the way from Moscow Papa had been + preoccupied, and when Woloda had asked him “whether Mamma was ill” he had + looked at him sadly and nodded an affirmative. Nevertheless he had grown + more composed during the journey, and it was only when we were actually + approaching the house that his face again began to grow anxious, until, as + he leaped from the carriage and asked Foka (who had run breathlessly to + meet us), “How is Natalia Nicolaevna now?” his voice, was trembling, and + his eyes had filled with tears. The good, old Foka looked at us, and then + lowered his gaze again. Finally he said as he opened the hall-door and + turned his head aside: “It is the sixth day since she has not left her + bed.” + </p> + <p> + Milka (who, as we afterwards learned, had never ceased to whine from the + day when Mamma was taken ill) came leaping, joyfully to meet Papa, and + barking a welcome as she licked his hands, but Papa put her aside, and + went first to the drawing-room, and then into the divannaia, from which a + door led into the bedroom. The nearer he approached the latter, the more, + did his movements express the agitation that he felt. Entering the + divannaia he crossed it on tiptoe, seeming to hold his breath. Even then + he had to stop and make the sign of the cross before he could summon up + courage to turn the handle. At the same moment Mimi, with dishevelled hair + and eyes red with weeping came hastily out of the corridor. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Peter Alexandritch!” she said in a whisper and with a marked + expression of despair. Then, observing that Papa was trying to open the + door, she whispered again: + </p> + <p> + “Not here. This door is locked. Go round to the door on the other side.” + </p> + <p> + Oh, how terribly all this wrought upon my imagination, racked as it was by + grief and terrible forebodings! + </p> + <p> + So we went round to the other side. In the corridor we met the gardener, + Akim, who had been wont to amuse us with his grimaces, but at this moment + I could see nothing comical in him. Indeed, the sight of his thoughtless, + indifferent face struck me more painfully than anything else. In the + maidservants’ hall, through which we had to pass, two maids were sitting + at their work, but rose to salute us with an expression so mournful that I + felt completely overwhelmed. + </p> + <p> + Passing also through Mimi’s room, Papa opened the door of the bedroom, and + we entered. The two windows on the right were curtained over, and close to + them was seated, Natalia Savishna, spectacles on nose and engaged in + darning stockings. She did not approach us to kiss me as she had been used + to do, but just rose and looked at us, her tears beginning to flow afresh. + Somehow it frightened me to see every one, on beholding us, begin to cry, + although they had been calm enough before. + </p> + <p> + On the left stood the bed behind a screen, while in the great arm-chair + the doctor lay asleep. Beside the bed a young, fair-haired and remarkably + beautiful girl in a white morning wrapper was applying ice to Mamma’s + head, but Mamma herself I could not see. This girl was “La Belle Flamande” + of whom Mamma had written, and who afterwards played so important a part + in our family life. As we entered she disengaged one of her hands, + straightened the pleats of her dress on her bosom, and whispered, “She is + insensible.” Though I was in an agony of grief, I observed at that moment + every little detail. + </p> + <p> + It was almost dark in the room, and very hot, while the air was heavy with + the mingled, scent of mint, eau-de-cologne, camomile, and Hoffman’s + pastilles. The latter ingredient caught my attention so strongly that even + now I can never hear of it, or even think of it, without my memory + carrying me back to that dark, close room, and all the details of that + dreadful time. + </p> + <p> + Mamma’s eyes were wide open, but they could not see us. Never shall I + forget the terrible expression in them—the expression of agonies of + suffering! + </p> + <p> + Then we were taken away. + </p> + <p> + When, later, I was able to ask Natalia Savishna about Mamma’s last moments + she told me the following: + </p> + <p> + “After you were taken out of the room, my beloved one struggled for a long + time, as though some one were trying to strangle her. Then at last she + laid her head back upon the pillow, and slept softly, peacefully, like an + angel from Heaven. I went away for a moment to see about her medicine, and + just as I entered the room again my darling was throwing the bedclothes + from off her and calling for your Papa. He stooped over her, but strength + failed her to say what she wanted to. All she could do was to open her + lips and gasp, ‘My God, my God! The children, the children!’ I would have + run to fetch you, but Ivan Vassilitch stopped me, saying that it would + only excite her—it were best not to do so. Then suddenly she + stretched her arms out and dropped them again. What she meant by that + gesture the good God alone knows, but I think that in it she was blessing + you—you the children whom she could not see. God did not grant her + to see her little ones before her death. Then she raised herself up—did + my love, my darling—yes, just so with her hands, and exclaimed in a + voice which I cannot bear to remember, ‘Mother of God, never forsake + them!’” + </p> + <p> + “Then the pain mounted to her heart, and from her eyes it as, plain that + she suffered terribly, my poor one! She sank back upon the pillows, tore + the bedclothes with her teeth, and wept—wept—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes and what then?” I asked but Natalia Savishna could say no more. She + turned away and cried bitterly. + </p> + <p> + Mamma had expired in terrible agonies. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVII — GRIEF + </h2> + <p> + LATE the following evening I thought I would like to look at her once + more; so, conquering an involuntary sense of fear, I gently opened the + door of the salon and entered on tiptoe. + </p> + <p> + In the middle of the room, on a table, lay the coffin, with wax candles + burning all round it on tall silver candelabra. In the further corner sat + the chanter, reading the Psalms in a low, monotonous voice. I stopped at + the door and tried to look, but my eyes were so weak with crying, and my + nerves so terribly on edge, that I could distinguish nothing. Every object + seemed to mingle together in a strange blur—the candles, the + brocade, the velvet, the great candelabra, the pink satin cushion trimmed + with lace, the chaplet of flowers, the ribboned cap, and something of a + transparent, wax-like colour. I mounted a chair to see her face, yet where + it should have been I could see only that wax-like, transparent something. + I could not believe it to be her face. Yet, as I stood grazing at it, I at + last recognised the well-known, beloved features. I shuddered with horror + to realise that it WAS she. Why were those eyes so sunken? What had laid + that dreadful paleness upon her cheeks, and stamped the black spot beneath + the transparent skin on one of them? Why was the expression of the whole + face so cold and severe? Why were the lips so white, and their outline so + beautiful, so majestic, so expressive of an unnatural calm that, as I + looked at them, a chill shudder ran through my hair and down my back? + </p> + <p> + Somehow, as I gazed, an irrepressible, incomprehensible power seemed to + compel me to keep my eyes fixed upon that lifeless face. I could not turn + away, and my imagination began to picture before me scenes of her active + life and happiness. I forgot that the corpse lying before me now—the + THING at which I was gazing unconsciously as at an object which had + nothing in common with my dreams—was SHE. I fancied I could see her—now + here, now there, alive, happy, and smiling. Then some well-known feature + in the face at which I was gazing would suddenly arrest my attention, and + in a flash I would recall the terrible reality and shudder-though still + unable to turn my eyes away. + </p> + <p> + Then again the dreams would replace reality—then again the reality + put to flight the dreams. At last the consciousness of both left me, and + for a while I became insensible. + </p> + <p> + How long I remained in that condition I do not know, nor yet how it + occurred. I only know that for a time I lost all sense of existence, and + experienced a kind of vague blissfulness which though grand and sweet, was + also sad. It may be that, as it ascended to a better world, her beautiful + soul had looked down with longing at the world in which she had left us—that + it had seen my sorrow, and, pitying me, had returned to earth on the wings + of love to console and bless me with a heavenly smile of compassion. + </p> + <p> + The door creaked as the chanter entered who was to relieve his + predecessor. The noise awakened me, and my first thought was that, seeing + me standing on the chair in a posture which had nothing touching in its + aspect, he might take me for an unfeeling boy who had climbed on to the + chair out of mere curiosity: wherefore I hastened to make the sign of the + cross, to bend down my head, and to burst out crying. As I recall now my + impressions of that episode I find that it was only during my moments of + self-forgetfulness that my grief was wholehearted. True, both before and + after the funeral I never ceased to cry and to look miserable, yet I feel + conscience-stricken when I recall that grief of mine, seeing that always + present in it there was an element of conceit—of a desire to show + that I was more grieved than any one else, of an interest which I took in + observing the effect, produced upon others by my tears, and of an idle + curiosity leading me to remark Mimi’s bonnet and the faces of all present. + The mere circumstance that I despised myself for not feeling grief to the + exclusion of everything else, and that I endeavoured to conceal the fact, + shows that my sadness was insincere and unnatural. I took a delight in + feeling that I was unhappy, and in trying to feel more so. Consequently + this egotistic consciousness completely annulled any element of sincerity + in my woe. + </p> + <p> + That night I slept calmly and soundly (as is usual after any great + emotion), and awoke with my tears dried and my nerves restored. At ten + o’clock we were summoned to attend the pre-funeral requiem. + </p> + <p> + The room was full of weeping servants and peasants who had come to bid + farewell to their late mistress. During the service I myself wept a great + deal, made frequent signs of the cross, and performed many genuflections, + but I did not pray with, my soul, and felt, if anything, almost + indifferent. My thoughts were chiefly centred upon the new coat which I + was wearing (a garment which was tight and uncomfortable) and upon how to + avoid soiling my trousers at the knees. Also I took the most minute notice + of all present. + </p> + <p> + Papa stood at the head of the coffin. He was as white as snow, and only + with difficulty restrained his tears. His tall figure in its black + frockcoat, his pale, expressive face, the graceful, assured manner in + which, as usual, he made the sign of the cross or bowed until he touched + the floor with his hand [A custom of the Greek funeral rite.] or took the + candle from the priest or went to the coffin—all were exceedingly + effective; yet for some reason or another I felt a grudge against him for + that very ability to appear effective at such a moment. Mimi stood leaning + against the wall as though scarcely able to support herself. Her dress was + all awry and covered with feathers, and her cap cocked to one side, while + her eyes were red with weeping, her legs trembling under her, and she + sobbed incessantly in a heartrending manner as ever and again she buried + her face in her handkerchief or her hands. I imagine that she did this to + check her continual sobbing without being seen by the spectators. I + remember, too, her telling Papa, the evening before, that Mamma’s death + had come upon her as a blow from which she could never hope to recover; + that with Mamma she had lost everything; but that “the angel,” as she + called my mother, had not forgotten her when at the point of death, since + she had declared her wish to render her (Mimi’s) and Katenka’s fortunes + secure for ever. Mimi had shed bitter tears while relating this, and very + likely her sorrow, if not wholly pure and disinterested, was in the main + sincere. Lubotshka, in black garments and suffused with tears, stood with + her head bowed upon her breast. She rarely looked at the coffin, yet + whenever she did so her face expressed a sort of childish fear. Katenka + stood near her mother, and, despite her lengthened face, looked as lovely + as ever. Woloda’s frank nature was frank also in grief. He stood looking + grave and as though he were staring at some object with fixed eyes. Then + suddenly his lips would begin to quiver, and he would hastily make the + sign of the cross, and bend his head again. + </p> + <p> + Such of those present as were strangers I found intolerable. In fact, the + phrases of condolence with which they addressed Papa (such, for instance, + as that “she is better off now” “she was too good for this world,” and so + on) awakened in me something like fury. What right had they to weep over + or to talk about her? Some of them, in referring to ourselves, called us + “orphans”—just as though it were not a matter of common knowledge + that children who have lost their mother are known as orphans! Probably (I + thought) they liked to be the first to give us that name, just as some + people find pleasure in being the first to address a newly-married girl as + “Madame.” + </p> + <p> + In a far corner of the room, and almost hidden by the open door, of the + dining-room, stood a grey old woman with bent knees. With hands clasped + together and eyes lifted to heaven, she prayed only—not wept. Her + soul was in the presence of God, and she was asking Him soon to reunite + her to her whom she had loved beyond all beings on this earth, and whom + she steadfastly believed that she would very soon meet again. + </p> + <p> + “There stands one who SINCERELY loved her,” I thought to myself, and felt + ashamed. + </p> + <p> + The requiem was over. They uncovered the face of the deceased, and all + present except ourselves went to the coffin to give her the kiss of + farewell. + </p> + <p> + One of the last to take leave of her departed mistress was a peasant woman + who was holding by the hand a pretty little girl of five whom she had + brought with her, God knows for what reason. Just at a moment when I + chanced to drop my wet handkerchief and was stooping to pick it up again, + a loud, piercing scream startled me, and filled me with such terror that, + were I to live a hundred years more, I should never forget it. Even now + the recollection always sends a cold shudder through my frame. I raised my + head. Standing on the chair near the coffin was the peasant woman, while + struggling and fighting in her arms was the little girl, and it was this + same poor child who had screamed with such dreadful, desperate frenzy as, + straining her terrified face away, she still, continued to gaze with + dilated eyes at the face of the corpse. I too screamed in a voice perhaps + more dreadful still, and ran headlong from the room. + </p> + <p> + Only now did I understand the source of the strong, oppressive smell + which, mingling with the scent of the incense, filled the chamber, while + the thought that the face which, but a few days ago, had been full of + freshness and beauty—the face which I loved more than anything else + in all the world—was now capable of inspiring horror at length + revealed to me, as though for the first time, the terrible truth, and + filled my soul with despair. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVIII — SAD RECOLLECTIONS + </h2> + <p> + Mamma was no longer with us, but our life went on as usual. We went to bed + and got up at the same times and in the same rooms; breakfast, luncheon, + and supper continued to be at their usual hours; everything remained + standing in its accustomed place; nothing in the house or in our mode of + life was altered: only, she was not there. + </p> + <p> + Yet it seemed to me as though such a misfortune ought to have changed + everything. Our old mode of life appeared like an insult to her memory. It + recalled too vividly her presence. + </p> + <p> + The day before the funeral I felt as though I should like to rest a little + after luncheon, and accordingly went to Natalia Savishna’s room with the + intention of installing myself comfortably under the warm, soft down of + the quilt on her bed. When I entered I found Natalia herself lying on the + bed and apparently asleep, but, on hearing my footsteps, she raised + herself up, removed the handkerchief which had been protecting her face + from the flies, and, adjusting her cap, sat forward on the edge of the + bed. Since it frequently happened that I came to lie down in her room, she + guessed my errand at once, and said: + </p> + <p> + “So you have come to rest here a little, have you? Lie down, then, my + dearest.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but what is the matter with you, Natalia Savishna?” I exclaimed as I + forced her back again. “I did not come for that. No, you are tired + yourself, so you LIE down.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite rested now, darling,” she said (though I knew that it was many + a night since she had closed her eyes). “Yes, I am indeed, and have no + wish to sleep again,” she added with a deep sigh. + </p> + <p> + I felt as though I wanted to speak to her of our misfortune, since I knew + her sincerity and love, and thought that it would be a consolation to me + to weep with her. + </p> + <p> + “Natalia Savishna,” I said after a pause, as I seated myself upon the bed, + “who would ever have thought of this?” + </p> + <p> + The old woman looked at me with astonishment, for she did not quite + understand my question. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, who would ever have thought of it?” I repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my darling,” she said with a glance of tender compassion, “it is not + only ‘Who would ever have thought of it?’ but ‘Who, even now, would ever + believe it?’ I am old, and my bones should long ago have gone to rest + rather than that I should have lived to see the old master, your + Grandpapa, of blessed memory, and Prince Nicola Michaelovitch, and his two + brothers, and your sister Amenka all buried before me, though all younger + than myself—and now my darling, to my never-ending sorrow, gone home + before me! Yet it has been God’s will. He took her away because she was + worthy to be taken, and because He has need of the good ones.” + </p> + <p> + This simple thought seemed to me a consolation, and I pressed closer to + Natalia. She laid her hands upon my head as she looked upward with eyes + expressive of a deep, but resigned, sorrow. In her soul was a sure and + certain hope that God would not long separate her from the one upon whom + the whole strength of her love had for many years been concentrated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear,” she went on, “it is a long time now since I used to nurse + and fondle her, and she used to call me Natasha. She used to come jumping + upon me, and caressing and kissing me, and say, ‘MY Nashik, MY darling, MY + ducky,’ and I used to answer jokingly, ‘Well, my love, I don’t believe + that you DO love me. You will be a grown-up young lady soon, and going + away to be married, and will leave your Nashik forgotten.’ Then she would + grow thoughtful and say, ‘I think I had better not marry if my Nashik + cannot go with me, for I mean never to leave her.’ Yet, alas! She has left + me now! Who was there in the world she did not love? Yes, my dearest, it + must never be POSSIBLE for you to forget your Mamma. She was not a being + of earth—she was an angel from Heaven. When her soul has entered the + heavenly kingdom she will continue to love you and to be proud of you even + there.” + </p> + <p> + “But why do you say ‘when her soul has entered the heavenly kingdom’?” I + asked. “I believe it is there now.” + </p> + <p> + “No, my dearest,” replied Natalia as she lowered her voice and pressed + herself yet closer to me, “her soul is still here,” and she pointed + upwards. She spoke in a whisper, but with such an intensity of conviction + that I too involuntarily raised my eyes and looked at the ceiling, as + though expecting to see something there. “Before the souls of the just + enter Paradise they have to undergo forty trials for forty days, and + during that time they hover around their earthly home.” [A Russian popular + legend.] + </p> + <p> + She went on speaking for some time in this strain—speaking with the + same simplicity and conviction as though she were relating common things + which she herself had witnessed, and to doubt which could never enter into + any one’s head. I listened almost breathlessly, and though I did not + understand all she said, I never for a moment doubted her word. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my darling, she is here now, and perhaps looking at us and listening + to what we are saying,” concluded Natalia. Raising her head, she remained + silent for a while. At length she wiped away the tears which were + streaming from her eyes, looked me straight in the face, and said in a + voice trembling with emotion: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it is through many trials that God is leading me to Him. Why, indeed, + am I still here? Whom have I to live for? Whom have I to love?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not love US, then?” I asked sadly, and half-choking with my tears. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, God knows that I love you, my darling; but to love any one as I + loved HER—that I cannot do.” + </p> + <p> + She could say no more, but turned her head aside and wept bitterly. As for + me, I no longer thought of going to sleep, but sat silently with her and + mingled my tears with hers. + </p> + <p> + Presently Foka entered the room, but, on seeing our emotion and not + wishing to disturb us, stopped short at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want anything, my good Foka?” asked Natalia as she wiped away her + tears. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, half-a-pound of currants, four pounds of sugar, and three + pounds of rice for the kutia.” [Cakes partaken of by the mourners at a + Russian funeral.] + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in one moment,” said Natalia as she took a pinch of snuff and + hastened to her drawers. All traces of the grief, aroused by our + conversation disappeared on, the instant that she had duties to fulfil, + for she looked upon those duties as of paramount importance. + </p> + <p> + “But why FOUR pounds?” she objected as she weighed the sugar on a + steelyard. “Three and a half would be sufficient,” and she withdrew a few + lumps. “How is it, too, that, though I weighed out eight pounds of rice + yesterday, more is wanted now? No offence to you, Foka, but I am not going + to waste rice like that. I suppose Vanka is glad that there is confusion + in the house just now, for he thinks that nothing will be looked after, + but I am not going to have any careless extravagance with my master’s + goods. Did one ever hear of such a thing? Eight pounds!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have nothing to do with it. He says it is all gone, that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + “Hm, hm! Well, there it is. Let him take it.” + </p> + <p> + I was struck by the sudden transition from the touching sensibility with + which she had just been speaking to me to this petty reckoning and + captiousness. Yet, thinking it over afterwards, I recognised that it was + merely because, in spite of what was lying on her heart, she retained the + habit of duty, and that it was the strength of that habit which enabled + her to pursue her functions as of old. Her grief was too strong and too + true to require any pretence of being unable to fulfil trivial tasks, nor + would she have understood that any one could so pretend. Vanity is a + sentiment so entirely at variance with genuine grief, yet a sentiment so + inherent in human nature, that even the most poignant sorrow does not + always drive it wholly forth. Vanity mingled with grief shows itself in a + desire to be recognised as unhappy or resigned; and this ignoble desire—an + aspiration which, for all that we may not acknowledge it is rarely absent, + even in cases of the utmost affliction—takes off greatly from the + force, the dignity, and the sincerity of grief. Natalia Savishna had been + so sorely smitten by her misfortune that not a single wish of her own + remained in her soul—she went on living purely by habit. + </p> + <p> + Having handed over the provisions to Foka, and reminded him of the + refreshments which must be ready for the priests, she took up her knitting + and seated herself by my side again. The conversation reverted to the old + topic, and we once more mourned and shed tears together. These talks with + Natalia I repeated every day, for her quiet tears and words of devotion + brought me relief and comfort. Soon, however, a parting came. Three days + after the funeral we returned to Moscow, and I never saw her again. + </p> + <p> + Grandmamma received the sad tidings only on our return to her house, and + her grief was extraordinary. At first we were not allowed to see her, + since for a whole week she was out of her mind, and the doctors were + afraid for her life. Not only did she decline all medicine whatsoever, but + she refused to speak to anybody or to take nourishment, and never closed + her eyes in sleep. Sometimes, as she sat alone in the arm-chair in her + room, she would begin laughing and crying at the same time, with a sort of + tearless grief, or else relapse into convulsions, and scream out dreadful, + incoherent words in a horrible voice. It was the first dire sorrow which + she had known in her life, and it reduced her almost to distraction. She + would begin accusing first one person, and then another, of bringing this + misfortune upon her, and rail at and blame them with the most + extraordinary virulence. Finally she would rise from her arm-chair, pace + the room for a while, and end by falling senseless to the floor. + </p> + <p> + Once, when I went to her room, she appeared to be sitting quietly in her + chair, yet with an air which struck me as curious. Though her eyes were + wide open, their glance was vacant and meaningless, and she seemed to gaze + in my direction without seeing me. Suddenly her lips parted slowly in a + smile, and she said in a touchingly, tender voice: “Come here, then, my + dearest one; come here, my angel.” Thinking that it was myself she was + addressing, I moved towards her, but it was not I whom she was beholding + at that moment. “Oh, my love,” she went on, “if only you could know how + distracted I have been, and how delighted I am to see you once more!” I + understood then that she believed herself to be looking upon Mamma, and + halted where I was. “They told me you were gone,” she concluded with a + frown; “but what nonsense! As if you could die before ME!” and she laughed + a terrible, hysterical laugh. + </p> + <p> + Only those who can love strongly can experience an overwhelming grief. Yet + their very need of loving sometimes serves to throw off their grief from + them and to save them. The moral nature of man is more tenacious of life + than the physical, and grief never kills. + </p> + <p> + After a time Grandmamma’s power of weeping came back to her, and she began + to recover. Her first thought when her reason returned was for us + children, and her love for us was greater than ever. We never left her + arm-chair, and she would talk of Mamma, and weep softly, and caress us. + </p> + <p> + Nobody who saw her grief could say that it was consciously exaggerated, + for its expression was too strong and touching; yet for some reason or + another my sympathy went out more to Natalia Savishna, and to this day I + am convinced that nobody loved and regretted Mamma so purely and sincerely + as did that simple-hearted, affectionate being. + </p> + <p> + With Mamma’s death the happy time of my childhood came to an end, and a + new epoch—the epoch of my boyhood—began; but since my memories + of Natalia Savishna (who exercised such a strong and beneficial influence + upon the bent of my mind and the development of my sensibility) belong + rather to the first period, I will add a few words about her and her death + before closing this portion of my life. + </p> + <p> + I heard later from people in the village that, after our return to Moscow, + she found time hang very heavy on her hands. Although the drawers and + shelves were still under her charge, and she never ceased to arrange and + rearrange them—to take things out and to dispose of them afresh—she + sadly missed the din and bustle of the seignorial mansion to which she had + been accustomed from her childhood up. Consequently grief, the alteration + in her mode of life, and her lack of activity soon combined to develop in + her a malady to which she had always been more or less subject. + </p> + <p> + Scarcely more than a year after Mamma’s death dropsy showed itself, and + she took to her bed. I can imagine how sad it must have been for her to go + on living—still more, to die—alone in that great empty house + at Petrovskoe, with no relations or any one near her. Every one there + esteemed and loved her, but she had formed no intimate friendships in the + place, and was rather proud of the fact. That was because, enjoying her + master’s confidence as she did, and having so much property under her + care, she considered that intimacies would lead to culpable indulgence and + condescension. Consequently (and perhaps, also, because she had nothing + really in common with the other servants) she kept them all at a distance, + and used to say that she “recognised neither kinsman nor godfather in the + house, and would permit of no exceptions with regard to her master’s + property.” + </p> + <p> + Instead, she sought and found consolation in fervent prayers to God. Yet + sometimes, in those moments of weakness to which all of us are subject, + and when man’s best solace is the tears and compassion of his + fellow-creatures, she would take her old dog Moska on to her bed, and talk + to it, and weep softly over it as it answered her caresses by licking her + hands, with its yellow eyes fixed upon her. When Moska began to whine she + would say as she quieted it: “Enough, enough! I know without thy telling + me that my time is near.” A month before her death she took out of her + chest of drawers some fine white calico, white cambric, and pink ribbon, + and, with the help of the maidservants, fashioned the garments in which + she wished to be buried. Next she put everything on her shelves in order + and handed the bailiff an inventory which she had made out with scrupulous + accuracy. All that she kept back was a couple of silk gowns, an old shawl, + and Grandpapa’s military uniform—things which had been presented to + her absolutely, and which, thanks to her care and orderliness, were in an + excellent state of preservation—particularly the handsome gold + embroidery on the uniform. + </p> + <p> + Just before her death, again, she expressed a wish that one of the gowns + (a pink one) should be made into a robe de chambre for Woloda; that the + other one (a many-coloured gown) should be made into a similar garment for + myself; and that the shawl should go to Lubotshka. As for the uniform, it + was to devolve either to Woloda or to myself, according as the one or the + other of us should first become an officer. All the rest of her property + (save only forty roubles, which she set aside for her commemorative rites + and to defray the costs of her burial) was to pass to her brother, a + person with whom, since he lived a dissipated life in a distant province, + she had had no intercourse during her lifetime. When, eventually, he + arrived to claim the inheritance, and found that its sum-total only + amounted to twenty-five roubles in notes, he refused to believe it, and + declared that it was impossible that his sister-a woman who for sixty + years had had sole charge in a wealthy house, as well as all her life had + been penurious and averse to giving away even the smallest thing should + have left no more: yet it was a fact. + </p> + <p> + Though Natalia’s last illness lasted for two months, she bore her + sufferings with truly Christian fortitude. Never did she fret or complain, + but, as usual, appealed continually to God. An hour before the end came + she made her final confession, received the Sacrament with quiet joy, and + was accorded extreme unction. Then she begged forgiveness of every one in + the house for any wrong she might have done them, and requested the priest + to send us word of the number of times she had blessed us for our love of + her, as well as of how in her last moments she had implored our + forgiveness if, in her ignorance, she had ever at any time given us + offence. “Yet a thief have I never been. Never have I used so much as a + piece of thread that was not my own.” Such was the one quality which she + valued in herself. + </p> + <p> + Dressed in the cap and gown prepared so long beforehand, and with her head + resting, upon the cushion made for the purpose, she conversed with the + priest up to the very last moment, until, suddenly, recollecting that she + had left him nothing for the poor, she took out ten roubles, and asked him + to distribute them in the parish. Lastly she made the sign of the cross, + lay down, and expired—pronouncing with a smile of joy the name of + the Almighty. + </p> + <p> + She quitted life without a pang, and, so far from fearing death, welcomed + it as a blessing. How often do we hear that said, and how seldom is it a + reality! Natalia Savishna had no reason to fear death for the simple + reason that she died in a sure and certain faith and in strict obedience + to the commands of the Gospel. Her whole life had been one of pure, + disinterested love, of utter self-negation. Had her convictions been of a + more enlightened order, her life directed to a higher aim, would that pure + soul have been the more worthy of love and reverence? She accomplished the + highest and best achievement in this world: she died without fear and + without repining. + </p> + <p> + They buried her where she had wished to lie—near the little + mausoleum which still covers Mamma’s tomb. The little mound beneath which + she sleeps is overgrown with nettles and burdock, and surrounded by a + black railing, but I never forget, when leaving the mausoleum, to approach + that railing, and to salute the plot of earth within by bowing reverently + to the ground. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, too, I stand thoughtfully between the railing and the + mausoleum, and sad memories pass through my mind. Once the idea came to me + as I stood there: “Did Providence unite me to those two beings solely in + order to make me regret them my life long?” + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Childhood, by Leo Tolstoy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDHOOD *** + +***** This file should be named 2142-h.htm or 2142-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/4/2142/ + +Produced by Martin Adamson and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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