the years 18-- for 140 roubles. Consequently Karl Mayer have to receive
139 rouble, 79 copecks, beside his wage.'
If people were to judge only by this bill (in which Karl Ivanitch
demanded repayment of all the money he had spent on presents, as well as
the value of a present promised to himself), they would take him to have
been a callous, avaricious egotist yet they would be wrong.
It appears that he had entered the study with the paper in his hand and
a set speech in his head, for the purpose of declaiming eloquently to
Papa on the subject of the wrongs which he believed himself to have
suffered in our house, but that, as soon as ever he began to speak in
the vibratory voice and with the expressive intonations which he used in
dictating to us, his eloquence wrought upon himself more than upon Papa;
with the result that, when he came to the point where he had to say,
'however sad it will be for me to part with the children,' he lost his
self-command utterly, his articulation became choked, and he was obliged
to draw his coloured pocket-handkerchief from his pocket.
'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 the bill.
'Well, if the idea of leaving us grieves you, you may be sure that the
idea of dismissing you grieves me equally,' said Papa, tapping him on
the shoulder. Then, after a pause, he added, 'But I have changed my
mind, and you shall not leave us.'
Just before supper Grisha entered the room. Ever since he had entered
the house that day he had never ceased to sigh and weep--a portent,
according to those who believed in his prophetic powers, that misfortune
was impending for the household. He had now come to take leave of us,
for to-morrow (so he said) he must be moving on. I nudged Woloda, and we
moved towards the door.
'What is the matter?' he said.
'This--that if we want to see Grisha's chains we must go upstairs at
once to the men-servants' rooms. Grisha is to sleep in the second one,
so we can sit in the store-room and see everything.'
'All right. Wait here, and I'll tell the girls.'
The girls came at once, and we ascended the stairs, though the question
as to which of us should first enter the store-room gave us some little
trouble. Then we cowered down and waited.
XII -- GRISHA
WE all felt a little uneasy in the thick darkness, so we pressed close
to one another and said nothing. Before long Grisha arrived with his
soft tread, carrying in one hand his staff and in the other a tallow
candle set in a brass candlestick. We scarcely ventured to breathe.
'Our Lord Jesus Christ! Holy Mother of God! Father, Son, and Holy
Ghost!' he kept repeating, with the different intonations and
abbreviations which gradually become peculiar to persons who are
accustomed to pronounce the words with great frequency.
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
