a word. First she would raise her voice, then lower it and then take on

a fresh access of vivacity as she looked at the persons present, but not

participating in the conversation, with an air of endeavouring to draw

them into it.

Although the Princess kissed Grandmamma's hand and repeatedly called her

'my good Aunt,' I could see that Grandmamma did not care much about her,

for she kept raising her eyebrows in a peculiar way while listening

to the Princess's excuses why Prince Michael had been prevented from

calling, and congratulating Grandmamma 'as he would like so-much to

have done.' At length, however, she answered the Princess's French with

Russian, and with a sharp accentuation of certain words.

'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 on:

'What a boy, cousin! He ought to have been whipped, but the trick was

so spirited and amusing that I let him off.' Then the Princess looked at

Grandmamma and laughed again.

'Ah! So you WHIP your children, do you' said Grandmamma, with a

significant lift of her eyebrows, and laying a peculiar stress on the

word 'WHIP.'

'Alas, my good Aunt,' replied the Princess in a sort of tolerant tone

and with another glance at Papa, 'I know your views on the subject, but

must beg to be allowed to differ with them. However much I have thought

over and read and talked about the matter, I have always been forced to

come to the conclusion that children must be ruled through FEAR. To make

something of a child, you must make it FEAR something. Is it not so,

cousin? And what, pray, do children fear so much as a rod?'

As she spoke she seemed, to look inquiringly at Woloda and myself, and I

confess that I did not feel altogether comfortable.

'Whatever you may say,' she went on, 'a boy of twelve, or even of

fourteen, is still a child and should be whipped as such; but with

girls, perhaps, it is another matter.'

'How lucky it is that I am not her son!' I thought to myself.

'Oh, very well,' said Grandmamma, folding up my verses and replacing

them beneath the box (as though, after that exposition of views, the

Princess was unworthy of the honour of listening to such a production).

'Very well, my dear,' she repeated 'But please tell me how, in return,

you can look for any delicate sensibility from your children?'

Evidently Grandmamma thought this argument unanswerable, for she cut the

subject short by adding:

'However, it is a point on which people must follow their own opinions.'

The Princess did not choose to reply, but smiled condescendingly, and as

though out of indulgence to the strange prejudices of a person whom she

only PRETENDED to revere.

'Oh, by the way, pray introduce me to your young people,' she went on

presently as she threw us another gracious smile.

Thereupon we rose and stood looking at the Princess, without in the

Вы читаете Childhood. Boyhood. Youth
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