Childhood .............................................................................................................................................................1

Leo Tolstoy..............................................................................................................................................1

I. THE TUTOR, KARL IVANITCH .......................................................................................................1

II. MAMMA............................................................................................................................................4

III. PAPA.................................................................................................................................................5

IV. LESSONS ..........................................................................................................................................8

V. THE IDIOT .........................................................................................................................................9

VI. PREPARATIONS FOR THE CHASE ............................................................................................12

VII. THE HUNT....................................................................................................................................13

VIII. WE PLAY GAMES ......................................................................................................................15

IX. A FIRST ESSAY IN LOVE ............................................................................................................16

X. THE SORT OF MAN MY FATHER WAS.....................................................................................17

XI. IN THE DRAWINGROOM AND THE STUDY .........................................................................18

XII. GRISHA.........................................................................................................................................20

XIII. NATALIA SAVISHNA ................................................................................................................21

XIV. THE PARTING............................................................................................................................23

XV. CHILDHOOD ................................................................................................................................25

XVI. VERSEMAKING.......................................................................................................................27

XVII. THE PRINCESS KORNAKOFF................................................................................................30

XVIII. PRINCE IVAN IVANOVITCH................................................................................................32

XIX. THE IWINS..................................................................................................................................34

XX. PREPARATIONS FOR THE PARTY..........................................................................................37

XXI. BEFORE THE MAZURKA.........................................................................................................40

XXII. THE MAZURKA........................................................................................................................42

XXIII. AFTER THE MAZURKA.........................................................................................................43

XXIV. IN BED......................................................................................................................................45

XXV. THE LETTER.............................................................................................................................47

XXVI. WHAT AWAITED US AT THE COUNTRYHOUSE ...........................................................49

XXVII. GRIEF .......................................................................................................................................51

XXVIII. SAD RECOLLECTIONS.......................................................................................................53

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 flyflap 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 particoloured 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.

"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 longhow 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 dressinggown and cap

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 flyflap on a nail,

"Get up, children! It is quite time, and your mother is already in the drawingroom," he exclaimed in his

strong German accent. Then he crossed over to me, sat down at my feet, and took his snuffbox 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!"

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.

"How kind he is, and how fond of us!" I thought to myself, Yet to think that I could be hating him so just

I felt angry, both with myself and with Karl Ivanitch, I wanted to laugh and to cry at the same time, for my

"Leave me alone, Karl!" I exclaimed at length, with tears in my eyes, as I raised my head from beneath the

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 consciencestricken, and could not understand how, only a

minute ago, I had been hating Karl, and thinking his dressinggown 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

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 ina 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 bootsat least, boots for Woloda, and for myself the old detestable, beribanded

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 Nicolaa towel over his shoulder, the soap in one hand,

and the basin in the othercould not help smiling as he said, "Will you please let me wash you, Vladimir

"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 bookslesson books and play bookssome 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

KitchenGardens, 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

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

I can see him before me nowthe tall figure in its wadded dressinggown 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 snuffbox, 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

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, halfclosed eyes and faintly smiling lips seemed to be

gazing before them with a curious expression, All would be quiet in the roomnot 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

"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, toohow 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.

On the second wall of the schoolroom hung some mapsmostly 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 oursmuch bescratched, and the other one hisquite 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 cornerthe 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 armchair 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.

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 limetrees, 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

otherthe 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

At last, on the morning of which I am speaking, Karl Ivanitch took off his dressinggown, put on his blue

frockcoat with its creased and crumpled shoulders, adjusted his tie before the lookingglass, and took us

Mamma was sitting in the drawingroom and making tea. In one hand she was holding the teapot, 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.

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 tearsdim 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

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 lacefrilled 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, threeone, two, three," more loudly and commandingly than ever.

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.

"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?"

The reason for this was that, to avoid catching cold, Karl never took off his red cap, but invariably asked

"Yes, pray replace it, Karl Ivanitch," said Mamma, bending towards him and raising her voice, "But I asked

Still he did not hear, but, covering his bald head again with the red cap, went on smiling more than ever,

"Stop a moment, Mimi." said Mamma (now smiling also) to Maria Ivanovna. "It is impossible to hear

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

Mamma took my head between her hands, bent it gently backwards, looked at me gravely, and said: "You

When talking to us with particular intimacy she always used this language, which she knew to perfection.

"I cried about a dream, Mamma" I replied, remembering the invented vision, and trembling involuntarily at

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

"Go to Papa now, children," she said, "and ask him to come to me before he goes to the home farm."

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

He was standing near his writingtable, 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,

"Directlywait a moment," and looked towards the door as a hint for it to be shut.

"Gracious heavens! What can be the matter with you today, 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 hayof 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 sumtotal that you ought to have in hand soon ishow

"Precisely," answered Jakoff, Yet by the extreme rapidity with which his fingers were twitching I could see

"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."

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.

"Very well," said Jakoff. "And what are your orders about the accounts for the money from Chabarovska?"

"Only that they are to remain in my office, and not to be taken thence without my express instructions."

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

"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

"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

"No. Tell me what he says," replied Papa, showing by a movement of his head that he had no desire to have

"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 today, 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

It was clear that he would have had many other arguments to adduce had not Papa interrupted him,

"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."

"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

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,

"I suppose you know that I am starting for Moscow tonight?" 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

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

"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 today, 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.

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

On my way upstairs I made a digression to the terrace. Near the door leading on to it Papa's favourite hound,

"Miloshka," I cried as I caressed her and kissed her nose, we are going away today. Goodbye. Perhaps we

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 dressinggown 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

eyesa 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, "lch komme vom Kaffeehaus" ("I come from

the coffeehouse"), 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 lastconscious, perhaps, that he was unjusthe departed to Nicola's pantry, and slammed the door

At this point Nicola seemed to get up for Karl said, "Sit down, Nicola," and then locked the door. However, I

"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 shoecobbling by the window, nodded his head in assent.

"Twelve years have I lived in this house," went on Karl, lifting his eyes and his snuffbox 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?"

"I am sure they did," replied Nicola, laying his awl down and straightening a piece of thread with his hands.

"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

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 Iwell, by God's help I may be able to earn a crust of

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 kindin 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.

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

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 armchair, and in a voice which seemed to come from a profound abyss

began to dictate: "Von allen Lei denshaften die grausamste ist. Have you written that? " He paused,

took a pinch of snuff, and began again: "Die grausamste ist die Undankbarkeit [The most cruel of all

"Punctum" (stop), he concluded, with a faintly perceptible smile, as he signed to us to hand him our

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.

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 diningroom, 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

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,

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.

"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 oilcloth, and to make the sign of the cross over it, "Ooh, what a pity!

Ooh, 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

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, rate intervals he used to

At last the punctual and wishedfor 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

drawingroom 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 armchair 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.

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 estce 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."

"Ask Mamma to let us go hunting too," Katenka whispered to me, as she caught me by the sleeve just when

Grisha likewise took a seat in the diningroom, 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.

Ever since the morning Mamma had been absentminded, and Grisha's presence, words, and actions seemed

"By the way, there is something I forgot to ask you," she said, as she handed Papa a plate of soup,

"That you will have those dreadful dogs of yours tied up, They nearly worried poor Grisha to death when he

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 loosea great sin! But do not beat him, master; do not beat him! It is for

"What does he say?" said Papa, looking at him gravely and sternly. "I cannot understand him at all."

"I think he is saying," replied Mamma, "that one of the huntsmen set the dogs on him, but that God would not

"Oh, is that it? " said Papa, "How does he know that I intended to punish the huntsman? You know, I am pot

very fond of fellows like this," he added in French, "and this one offends me particularly. Should it ever

"Oh, don't say so," interrupted Mamma, as if frightened by some thought. "How can you know what he is?"

"I think I have plenty of opportunities for doing so, since no lack of them come to see youall of them the

I could see that Mamma's opinion differed from his, but that she did not mean to quarrel about it.

"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

"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 overstrong in that

respect," and he smiled, observing that Mamma did not like the conversation at all. However, he handed her

"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 lifeit 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?"

"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

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

grantedMamma, to make things still more delightful, saying that she would come too,

During dessert Jakoff had been sent for, and orders given him to have ready the carriage, the hounds, and the

saddlehorsesevery 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

When luncheon was over, the grownups 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 dressour 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 fishscales. In the east, over

Maslovska, a single lurid mass was louring, but Karl Ivanitch (who always seemed to know the ways of the

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

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

"Hold your tongue, It is not the first time I have been one of the party." I retorted with dignity.

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 horsebackalmost a

grownup young man, and held himself so upright in the saddle that I envied him since my shadow seemed

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

AT the head of the cavalcade rode Turka, on a hogbacked 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 leashfellow also to be induced to halt, but at once one of the huntsmen would wheel round, crack his

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 cornland 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 shirtsleeved 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

tallystick) caught sight of Papa, he hastened to take off his lamb'swool 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 greyhoundstheir tails curved like sickleswent 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 whipperin.

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

Arrived at the Kalinovo wood, we found the carriage awaiting us there, with, beside it, a onehorse

waggonette driven by the butlera waggonette in which were a teaurn, 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

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

"Has anyone a pockethandkerchief to spare?" asked Papa. I took mine from my pocket and offered it to him.

"Yes. Then run him along the road with you. When you come to a little clearing in the wood stop and look

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! "

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 oaktree, 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

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

thenbehold, 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 samepulling 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 oaktree under which I was sitting. I could see countless ants swarming over the parched grey earth

and winding among the acorns, withered oakleaves, 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 themselvessome

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 halffaded 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

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.

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,

THE hunt was over, a cloth had been spread in the shade of some young birchtrees, 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.

Through the green branches of the young birchtrees 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,

"Well, what shall it be?" said Lubotshka, blinking in the sunlight and skipping about the grass, "Suppose we

"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."

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 hardheadedness and too little imagination fully to

enjoy the game of Robinson. It was a game which consisted of performing various scenes from The Swiss

"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

"No, I'm not going to; it's a tiresome game," said Woloda again, though smiling as if secretly pleased.

"It would be better to sit at home than not to play at ANYTHING," murmured Lubotshka, with tears in her

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 groundcertainly 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 disagreeablethe 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 armchair with a shawl and make a carriage of itone 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

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

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,

When we returned to the grownups, 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 carriageWoloda 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

Papa was a gentleman of the last century, with all the chivalrous character, selfreliance, 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.

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.

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 selfconfidence 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 himselfany one, that is to say, of a rank higher than a

retired lieutenant of the Guards. Moreover, like all exofficers, he refused to dress himself in the prevailing

fashion, though he attired himself both originally and artisticallyhis invariable wear being light,

loosefitting 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

As he grew to old age he looked at things always from a fixed point of view, and cultivated fixed rulesbut

only so long as that point or those rules coincided with expediency, The mode of life which offered some

passing degree of interestthat, 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.

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, andbut 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

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 dreamshapes. 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 reminiscenceof what? Somehow I seemed to remember something which had never been.

Opposite to me lay the study door, and presently I saw Jakoff enter it, accompanied by several longbearded

"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 smokealways 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

"I hope nothing is going to happen," I mused. "Karl Ivanitch is offended, and might be capable of

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

"Do you know what I have just decided to do?" he asked gaily as he laid a hand upon Mamma's shoulder.

"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

"I am delighted," said Mamma, "and as much for the children's sake as his own. He is a worthy old man."

"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.

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.]

"Two book for the children70 copeck. Coloured paper, gold frames, and a popguns, blockheads [This

word has a double meaning in Russian.] for cutting out several box for presents6 roubles, 55 copecks.

Several book and a bows, presents for the childrens8 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

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

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

"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.

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

"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

Just before supper Grisha entered the room. Ever since he had entered the house that day he had never ceased

to sigh and weepa 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 tomorrow (so he said) he must be

"Thisthat if we want to see Grisha's chains we must go upstairs at once to the menservants' rooms. Grisha

is to sleep in the second one, so we can sit in the storeroom and see everything."

The girls came at once, and we ascended the stairs, though the question as to which of us should first enter

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

"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

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.

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 shirtan 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.

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

At first he repeated some wellknown 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 kneesonly 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

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 storeroom, I

Grisha continued for some time in this state of religious ecstasy as he improvised prayers and repeated again

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.

"Yes, Thy will be done!" he exclaimed suddenly, with an expression which I cannot describe, as, prostrating

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!

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 storeroom 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

In days gone by there used to run about the seignorial courtyard of the countryhouse 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 chambermaid, 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

guiltyfolly which, she assured him, should never recur again. And she kept her word.

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 pockethandkerchief between her fingers, and looking mournfully at the remains of the document, which

"Nothing, ma'am," she replied; "onlyonly I must have displeased you somehow, since you wish to dismiss

She withdrew her hand and, with difficulty restraining her tears, rose to leave the room, but Mamma stopped

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 selfsacrifice. 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 talkedhow 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:

"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."

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.

One day after luncheon I poured myself out a glass of kvass, and then dropped the decanter, and so stained

"Go and call Natalia, that she may come and see what her darling has done," said Mamma.

Natalia arrived, and shook her head at me when she saw the damage I had done; but Mamma whispered

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,

"What?" I said to myself as I fled to the drawingroom in a mist of tears, "To think that Natalia

Savishnajust plain Nataliashould say 'THOU' to me and rub my face with a wet tablecloth as though I were

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,

"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 fasterthough from love

ON the day after the events described, the carriage and the luggagecart 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

"Nicola Dimitvitch, would you be so good as to take master's dressingcase with you? " said Papa's valet,

"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

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 onesthe 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'swool 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 cartone driver lifting up

each wheel in turn and the other driver applying the grease. Tired posthorses of various hues stood lashing

away flies with their tails near the gatesome stamping their great hairy legs, blinking their eyes, and

dozing, some leaning wearily against their neighbours, and others cropping the leaves and stalks of

darkgreen fern which grew near the entrancesteps. 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 birchtrees in the

garden, and whirling their yellow leaves away. I myself was sitting at a window and waiting impatiently for

As we sat together by the drawingroom 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?

"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

"To whom shall I give the list of the children's linen?" asked Natalia Savishna of Mamma as she entered the

"Give it to Nicola, and then return to say goodbye 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.

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

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

nowFoka'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

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 goodbye. Papa

When I heard that faltering voice, and saw those quivering lips and tearfilled 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,

As we passed out to take our seats, other servants pressed round us in the hall to say goodbye. 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.

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.

"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. Rearing 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.

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 tearsfelt 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

After a little while I began to recover, and to look with interest at objects which we passed and at the

hindquarters 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 backband, with the rings on it, to jump toothe 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 partedparted, 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 birchtree

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.

HAPPY, happy, neverreturning 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.

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 teatable. 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 itcan 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 halfclose my eyes,

"There! You are failing asleep again, little Nicolas," says Mamma. "You had better go to byby."

"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 drawingroom. 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

No envious gaze sees her now. She is not afraid to shed upon me the whole of her tenderness and love. I do

She passes her other arm round my neck, and her fingers tickle me as they move across it. The room is quiet

and in halfdarkness, but the tickling has touched my nerves and I begin to awake. Mamma is sitting near

methat I can telland 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:

She smiles her sad, enchanting smile, takes my head between her two hands, kisses me on the forehead, and

"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

"Oh, but you must not speak so, darling Mamma, my own darling Mamma!" I exclaim as I clasp her knees,

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

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 toya china dog or hare stuck into the bedcorner behind the pillow, and it

would please me to think how warm and comfortable and well caredfor 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.

Do in after life the freshness and lightheartedness, 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 virtuesinnocent gaiety and a boundless yearning for affectionare our sole objects of pursuit?

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

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 outstretched neck,

was standing behind the drawing master and looking over his shoulder. The head was Woloda's first

production in pencil and today Grandmamma's namedaythe masterpiece was to be presented to her.

"Aren't you going to put a little more shadow there? " said Woloda to the master as he raised himself on

"No, it is not necessary," the master replied as he put pencil and drawingpen 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

"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 goodbye, gentlemen," and taking his hat and cardboard he departed.

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 nameday 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 ideaone so peculiar for a childcame 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

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

Remember near Remember far, Remember me. Today be faithful, and for ever Aye, still beyond the

These verses (which were written in a fine, round hand on thin letterpaper) 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 nameday had arrived I had completed a twelvecouplet

congratulatory ode, and sat down to the table in our schoolroom to copy them out on vellum.

Two sheets were soon spoilednot because I found it necessary to alter anything (the verses seemed to me

perfect), but because, after the third line, the tailend 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

The third sheet also came out crooked, but I determined to make it do. In my verses I congratulated

"Love you liike our Mother 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."

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:

"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."

"Well, so be it!" I said in much vexation as I crammed the verses hastily under my pillow and ran down to

They fitted marvellouslyboth the brown jacket with yellow buttons (a garment made skintight and not "to

allow room for growth," as in the country) and the black trousers (also close fitting so that they displayed

"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

lookingglass 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

Karl Ivanitch was dressing in another room, and I heard some one bring him his blue frockcoat and

underlinen. Then at the door leading downstairs I heard a maidservant's voice, and went to see what she

wanted. In her hand she held a wellstarched shirt which she said she had been sitting up all night to get

"Oh yes, she has had her coffee, and the priest has come. My word, but you look a fine little fellow! " added

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

However, when I took the shirt to Karl I found that he did not need it, having taken another one. Standing

before a small lookingglass, he tied his cravat with both handstrying, by various motions of his head, to

see whether it fitted him comfortably or notand 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

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

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

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.

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

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

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 halfway 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 pockethandkerchiefs and a snuffbox engraved with Mamma's portrait, were laid on the table

"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

"Yes, show her in," said Grandmamma, settling herself as far back in her armchair as possible. The Princess

was a woman of about fortyfive, small and delicate, with a shrivelled skin and disagreeable, greyishgreen

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

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 somuch to have done." At length, however, she answered the Princess's

"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?"

"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

"What a boy, cousin! He ought to have been whipped, but the trick was so spirited and amusing that I let him

"Ah! So you WHIP your children, do you" said Grandmamma, with a significant lift of her eyebrows, and

"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,

As she spoke she seemed, to look inquiringly at Woloda and myself, and I confess that I did not feel

"Whatever you may say," she went on, "a boy of twelve, or even of fourteen, is still a child and should be

"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

Evidently Grandmamma thought this argument unanswerable, for she cut the subject short by adding:

The Princess did not choose to reply, but smiled condescendingly, and as though out of indulgence to the

"Oh, by the way, pray introduce me to your young people," she went on presently as she threw us another

Thereupon we rose and stood looking at the Princess, without in the least knowing what we ought to do to

"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

"and here is my poet," he added as I kissed the small, dry hand of the Princess, with a vivid picture in my

"This little one," replied Papa, smiling; "the one with the tuft of hair on his topknot."

"Why need he bother about my tuft?" I thought to myself as I retired into a corner. "Is there nothing else for

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

"You know, Nicolinka, nobody will ever love you for your face alone, so you must try all the more to be a

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

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

"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 halfcircle of hair which was all that was now left to him, and the want of teeth disclosed by the

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 haughtyprobably 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. Welleducated, 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 drawingroom; few young and

pretty ladies in society objected to offering him their rosy cheeks for a paternal salute; and people even in the

The Prince had few friends left now like Grandmammathat 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, longstanding friendship with her, and always showed her the

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.

"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.

Gradually the other guests dispersed, and with them Papa and Woloda. Thus only Grandmamma, the Prince,

"Why has our dear Natalia Nicolaevna not come today" asked the Prince after a silence.

"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 mea fact, she said, which made her feel as safe

"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

"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."

"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 dinnerparties, and for resorting towell, 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

armchair 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:

"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 he happy with him. Mark my words if he does not" Here Grandmamma buried her face

"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."

At this point, having been an involuntary auditor of a conversation not meant for my ears, I stole on tiptoe out

"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.

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 turnedup, strongly

pronounced nose, very bright red lips (which, never being quite shut, showed a row of white teeth), beautiful

darkblue 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, overrated 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

I often think with regret of that fresh, beautiful feeling of boundless, disinterested love which came to an end

without having ever found selfexpression or return. It is strange how, when a child, I always longed to be

like grownup 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 grownup 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 grownup people.

I met the Iwins in the anteroom, 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 drawingroom, 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

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

brassknobbed cane between them, lighted a cigar, and assumed the air of a man wellpleased 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 enjoyedespecially among the

ladiesthe 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, selfsatisfied 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

"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

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, goodtempered 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

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.

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.

After this last trick he pondered for a moment (blinking his eyes as usual), and then went up to Ilinka with a

Ilinka, observing that the general attention was fixed upon him, blushed, and said in an almost inaudible

"Well, what does he mean by doing nothing at all? What a girl the fellow is! He has just GOT to stand on his

"Yes, on your head at once! This instant, this instant!" every one shouted as we ran upon Ilinka and dragged

"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.

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

Suddenly a moment of silence occurred amid our boisterous laughtera 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,

"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 poor fellow's miserable figure, with its streaming tears, ruffled hair, and crumpled trousers revealing

"What a girl! What a gaby!" he said, giving Ilinka a slight kick. "He can't take things in fun a bit. Well, get

"You are an utter beast! That's what YOU are!" said Ilinka, turning miserably away and sobbing.

"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

"Well, that's enough now," added Seriosha, with a forced laugh. "You DESERVE to be hurt if you can't take

I could not help looking with some compassion at the miserable creature on the floor as, his face buried in the

"Well, you did it too! Besides, I did not cry this afternoon when I knocked my leg and nearly broke it."

"True enough," I thought. "Ilinka is a poor whining sort of a chap, while Seriosha is a boya REAL boy."

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

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?

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

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 drawingroom 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,

At the sound of every vehicle which chanced to pass the house I ran to the window, leaned my head upon my

At last a carriage stopped at our door, and, in the full belief that this must be the Iwins, who had promised to

But, instead of the Iwins, I beheld from behind the figure of the footman who opened the door two female

figuresone 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.

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

The most prominent feature in her face was a pair of unusually large halfveiled 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:

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.

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.

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!"

Sonetchka blushed, smiled, and, indeed, looked so charming that I myself blushed as I looked at her.

"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

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

Etienne was a boy of fifteen, tall and plump, with a sharp face, deepset 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.

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

"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 nighttime 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 regularwell, you know," he added with a significant gesture "It's splendid then."

"Master Etienne," said a footman, entering the hall, "Philip wishes me to ask you where you put the whip."

"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

Out of delicacy I pretended to notice nothing and turned aside, but the other footmen present gathered round

"Hmwell, 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

"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

"Hold your tongue, will you! " shouted the young fellow, pale with rage "I shall report you for this."

"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 cloakroom. We ourselves entered the salon.

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.

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

drawingroom, 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 peopleamong 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

When the Iwins arrived I found that, instead of being as delighted as usual to meet Seriosha, I felt a kind of

"HULLO, Woloda! So we are going to dance tonight," said Seriosha, issuing from the drawingroom and

taking out of his pocket a brand new pair of gloves. "I suppose it IS necessary to put on gloves? "

"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 lilaccoloured 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

However, I put it onnot without some diffident contemplation of the blank left by the middle finger and of

"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

"What are you up to here?" asked Woloda as he burst into the room. "Go and engage a partner. The dancing

"Woloda," I said despairingly, as I showed him my hand with two fingers thrust into a single finger of the

"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 drawingroom, completely forgetful of the unfortunate glove which still adorned my left hand.

"We have no gloves," I repeated, at the same time bending over towards her and laying both hands on the arm

" 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!"

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.

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.

How lovely Sonetchka looked when she was dancing a quadrille as my visavis, 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

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.

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 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

"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

"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

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

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

"Nothing in the world can abash me now," I thought as I wandered carelessly about the salon. "I am ready for

Glancing round the salon with a confident eye, I saw that every lady was engaged save onea tall girl

standing near the drawing room door. Yet a grownup young man was approaching herprobably 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

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

"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

The mazurka came to an end, and already some of the guests were saying goodbye 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?"

"Ah, so it's YOU!" said Grandmamma as she turned round in her armchair. "Go and dance, then, my boy."

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

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

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.

Everyone was looking at mesome with curiosity, some with astonishment, some with disdain, and some

"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

"Every one despises me, and will always despise me," I thought to myself. "The way is closed for me to

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 Sonetchkashe was a darling, of course!yet why, oh

Oh, it was dreadful! Alas, if only Mamma had been there she would never have blushed for her Nicolinka!

How on the instant that dear image led my imagination captive! I seemed to see once more the meadow

before our house, the tall limetrees in the garden, the clear pond where the ducks swain, the blue sky

dappled with white clouds, the sweetsmelling ricks of hay. How those memoriesaye, and many another

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 selfesteem 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

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 welldisposed 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 hear what she and her daughter

"Well, what if I should be ill tomorrow through all this dissipation?" rejoined her mother, and was

"There! You DO consent, and we CAN stay after all!" exclaimed Sonetchka, jumping for joy.

"What is to be done with such a girl?" said Madame. "Well, run away and dance. See," she added on

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 legsnow 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.

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 halfway to the ceiling in proof of my skill.

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 dishevelledthe topknot, in particular, being more erect than ever. Yet my general

appearance looked so happy, healthy, and goodtempered that I felt wholly pleased with myself.

"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 reciprocitycould 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

As we passed through the hall and peered into a little dark storeroom 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

"It HAS been a delightful evening, hasn't it?" I asked her in a low, tremulous voice. Then I quickened my

stepsas much out of fear of what I had said as out of fear of what I had meant to imply.

"Yes, VERY! " she answered, and turned her face to look at me with an expression so kind that I ceased to be

"Particularly since supper. Yet if you could only know how I regret" (I had nearly said "how miserable I am

"But why SHOULDN'T we?" she asked, looking gravely at the corner of her pockethandkerchief, and

gliding her fingers over a latticed screen which we were passing. "Every Tuesday and Friday I go with

"Well, certainly I shall ask to go for one next Tuesday, and. if they won't take me I shall go by myselfeven

"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

"Give me your hand," I said, under the impression that the music and din would drown my exact words, but

"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 employedand employed more than once. All

"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

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

"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

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

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

"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 herI

"One thing only I wish for," I continued; "and that is that I could always be with her and always be seeing

It was strange, but somehow I wanted every one to be in love with Sonetchka, and every one to tell me that

"So that's how it is with you? " said Woloda, turning round to me. "Well, I can understand it."

"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!"

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."

"What a fool you are!" he said with a slight laugh. Then, after a moment's silence he added: "I am not like

"And then," went on Woloda, smiling tenderly, "kiss her fingers and eyes and lips and nose and feetkiss all

"I DO understand. It's you who don't understand things, and you talk rubbish, too," I replied, halfcrying.

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:

"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

"Yet do not be uneasy. I feel almost myself again now, and if Ivan Vassilitch should allow me, I think of

"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 halfanhour 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

"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 'Onetwothree' 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."

"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.

"'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

"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.'

"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 kindhearted,

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 yetexcuse me for saying soupon 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 gamblinga 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.

"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 boardingschool. 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),

"Also you write that our affairs render it indispensable for you to visit St. Petersburg. The Lord go with you!

"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 peachtrees 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 he 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."

The rest of the letter was written in French, as well as in a strange, uncertain hand, on another piece of paper.

"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 laterif 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 methat 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 mere 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

unlookedfor blow? Why must I die when your love was making life so inexpressibly happy for me?

"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, Wolodafarewell, my pet!

With this letter had come also a French note from Mimi, in which the latter said:

"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.

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

"I confess," said Natalia Savishna, "that I too fell asleep in the armchair, 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

"'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."

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),

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 drawingroom, 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

"Ah, Peter Alexandritch!" she said in a whisper and with a marked expression of despair. Then, observing

Oh, how terribly all this wrought upon my imagination, racked as it was by grief and terrible forebodings!

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

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

On the left stood the bed behind a screen, while in the great armchair 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

It was almost dark in the room, and very hot, while the air was heavy with the mingled, scent of mint,

eaudecologne, 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,

Mamma's eyes were wide open, but they could not see us. Never shall I forget the terrible expression in

When, later, I was able to ask Natalia Savishna about Mamma's last moments she told me the following:

"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 herit 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

youyou the children whom she could not see. God did not grant her to see her little ones before her death.

Then she raised herself updid my love, my darlingyes, just so with her hands, and exclaimed in a voice

"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 weptwept"

"Yes and what then?" I asked but Natalia Savishna could say no more. She turned away and cried bitterly.

LATE the following evening I thought I would like to look at her once more; so, conquering an involuntary

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 blurthe 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, waxlike colour. I mounted a chair to see her face, yet where it

should have been I could see only that waxlike, 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

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 nowthe THING at which I was gazing

unconsciously as at an object which had nothing in common with my dreamswas SHE. I fancied I could

see hernow here, now there, alive, happy, and smiling. Then some wellknown 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

Then again the dreams would replace realitythen again the reality put to flight the dreams. At last the

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 usthat it had seen my sorrow, and, pitying me, had returned to earth on the

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 selfforgetfulness that my grief was

wholehearted. True, both before and after the funeral I never ceased to cry and to look miserable, yet I feel

consciencestricken when I recall that grief of mine, seeing that always present in it there was an element of

conceitof 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

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.

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.

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 coffinall 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,

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

In a far corner of the room, and almost hidden by the open door, of the diningroom, stood a grey old woman

with bent knees. With hands clasped together and eyes lifted to heaven, she prayed onlynot 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.

"There stands one who SINCERELY loved her," I thought to myself, and felt ashamed.

The requiem was over. They uncovered the face of the deceased, and all present except ourselves went to the

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

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 beautythe face which I loved more than anything else in all the worldwas now capable of

inspiring horror at length revealed to me, as though for the first time, the terrible truth, and filled my soul

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

Yet it seemed to me as though such a, misfortune ought to have changed everything. Our old mode of life

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

"Oh, but what is the matter with you, Natalia Savishna?" I exclaimed as I forced her back again. "I did not

"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.

I felt as though I wanted to speak to her of our misfortune, since I knew her sincerity and love, and thought

"Natalia Savishna," I said after a pause, as I seated myself upon the bed, "who would ever have thought of

The old woman looked at me with astonishment, for she did not quite understand my question.

"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 myselfand now my darling, to my neverending

sorrow, gone home before me! Yet it has been God's will. He took her away because she was worthy to be

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

"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 grownup 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 earthshe

was an angel from Heaven. When her soul has entered the heavenly kingdom she will continue to love you

"But why do you say 'when her soul has entered the heavenly kingdom'?" I asked. "I believe it is there now."

"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

She went on speaking for some time in this strainspeaking 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

"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:

"Ah, it is through many trials that God is leading me to Him. Why, indeed, am I still here? Whom have I to

"Yes, God knows that I love you, my darling; but to love any one as I loved HERthat I cannot do."

She could say no more, but turned her head aside and wept bitterly. As for me, I no longer thought of going to

Presently Foka entered the room, but, on seeing our emotion and not wishing to disturb us, stopped short at

"Do you want anything, my good Foka?" asked Natalia as she wiped away her tears.

"If you please, halfapound of currants, four pounds of sugar, and three pounds of rice for the kutia."

"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

"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!" "Well, I have nothing to do with it. He says it is all gone, that's all."

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 desirean aspiration

which, for all that we may not acknowledge it is rarely absent, even in cases of the utmost afflictiontakes

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 soulshe went on living purely by habit.

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

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 m sleep. Sometimes, as she sat alone in the armchair 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 armchair, pace the room for a while, and end by

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

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

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

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,

With Mamma's death the happy time of my childhood came to an end, and a new epochthe epoch of my

boyhoodbegan; 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.

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 themto take things out and to dispose of them afreshshe 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

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 livingstill more, to diealone 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

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

fellowcreatures, 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 uniformthings which had been presented to her absolutely, and which, thanks to her care and

orderliness, were in an excellent state of preservationparticularly the handsome gold embroidery on the

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 manycoloured 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 sumtotal only amounted to twentyfive roubles in notes, he refused to believe

it, and declared that it was impossible that his sistera 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

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

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 expiredpronouncing with a smile of joy the name of

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 selfnegation. 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

They buried her where she had wished to lienear 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

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