new clothes were horribly tight and uncomfortable, but, on the contrary,
said that, if there were a fault, it was that they were not tight
enough. For a long while I stood before the looking-glass as I combed
my elaborately pomaded head, but, try as I would, I could not reduce the
topmost hairs on the crown to order. As soon as ever I left off combing
them, they sprang up again and radiated in different directions, thus
giving my face a ridiculous expression.
Karl Ivanitch was dressing in another room, and I heard some one
bring him his blue frockcoat and under-linen. Then at the door leading
downstairs I heard a maid-servant's voice, and went to see what she
wanted. In her hand she held a well-starched shirt which she said she
had been sitting up all night to get ready. I took it, and asked if
Grandmamma was up yet.
'Oh yes, she has had her coffee, and the priest has come. My word, but
you look a fine little fellow!' added the girl with a smile at my new
clothes.
This observation made me blush, so I whirled round on one leg, snapped
my fingers, and went skipping away, in the hope that by these manoeuvres
I should make her sensible that even yet she had not realised quite what
a fine fellow I was.
However, when I took the shirt to Karl I found that he did not need it,
having taken another one. Standing before a small looking-glass, he tied
his cravat with both hands--trying, by various motions of his head, to
see whether it fitted him comfortably or not--and then took us down to
see Grandmamma. To this day I cannot help laughing when I remember what
a smell of pomade the three of us left behind us on the staircase as we
descended.
Karl was carrying a box which he had made himself, Woloda, his drawing,
and I my verses, while each of us also had a form of words ready with
which to present his gift. Just as Karl opened the door, the priest put
on his vestment and began to say prayers.
During the ceremony Grandmamma stood leaning over the back of a chair,
with her head bent down. Near her stood Papa. He turned and smiled at us
as we hurriedly thrust our presents behind our backs and tried to remain
unobserved by the door. The whole effect of a surprise, upon which we
had been counting, was entirely lost. When at last every one had made
the sign of the cross I became intolerably oppressed with a sudden,
invincible, and deadly attack of shyness, so that the courage to, offer
my present completely failed me. I hid myself behind Karl Ivanitch, who
solemnly congratulated Grandmamma and, transferring his box from his
right hand to his left, presented it to her. Then he withdrew a few
steps to make way for Woloda. Grandmamma seemed highly pleased with
the box (which was adorned with a gold border), and smiled in the most
friendly manner in order to express her gratitude. Yet it was evident
that, she did not know where to set the box down, and this probably
accounts for the fact that she handed it to Papa, at the same time
bidding him observe how beautifully it was made.
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
