least knowing what we ought to do to show that we were being introduced.
'Kiss the Princess's hand,' said Papa.
'Well, I hope you will love your old aunt,' she said to Woloda, kissing
his hair, 'even though we are not near relatives. But I value friendship
far more than I do degrees of relationship,' she added to Grandmamma,
who nevertheless, remained hostile, and replied:
'Eh, my dear? Is that what they think of relationships nowadays?'
'Here is my man of the world,' put in Papa, indicating Woloda; 'and here
is my poet,' he added as I kissed the small, dry hand of the Princess,
with a vivid picture in my mind of that same hand holding a rod and
applying it vigorously.
'WHICH one is the poet?' asked the Princess.
'This little one,' replied Papa, smiling; 'the one with the tuft of hair
on his top-knot.'
'Why need he bother about my tuft?' I thought to myself as I retired
into a corner. 'Is there nothing else for him to talk about?'
I had strange ideas on manly beauty. I considered Karl Ivanitch one of
the handsomest men in the world, and myself so ugly that I had no need
to deceive myself on that point. Therefore any remark on the subject of
my exterior offended me extremely. I well remember how, one day after
luncheon (I was then six years of age), the talk fell upon my personal
appearance, and how Mamma tried to find good features in my face, and
said that I had clever eyes and a charming smile; how, nevertheless,
when Papa had examined me, and proved the contrary, she was obliged to
confess that I was ugly; and how, when the meal was over and I went
to pay her my respects, she said as she patted my cheek; 'You know,
Nicolinka, nobody will ever love you for your face alone, so you must
try all the more to be a good and clever boy.'
Although these words of hers confirmed in me my conviction that I was
not handsome, they also confirmed in me an ambition to be just such
a boy as she had indicated. Yet I had my moments of despair at my
ugliness, for I thought that no human being with such a large nose, such
thick lips, and such small grey eyes as mine could ever hope to attain
happiness on this earth. I used to ask God to perform a miracle by
changing me into a beauty, and would have given all that I possessed, or
ever hoped to possess, to have a handsome face.
XVIII -- PRINCE IVAN IVANOVITCH
When the Princess had heard my verses and overwhelmed the writer of them
with praise, Grandmamma softened to her a little. She began to address
her in French and to cease calling her 'my dear.' Likewise she invited
her to return that evening with her children. This invitation having
been accepted, the Princess took her leave. After that, so many other
callers came to congratulate Grandmamma that the courtyard was crowded
all day long with carriages.
'Good morning, my dear cousin,' was the greeting of one guest in
particular as he entered the room and kissed Grandmamma's hand. He was
a man of seventy, with a stately figure clad in a military uniform and
adorned with large epaulettes, an embroidered collar, and a white cross
round the neck. His face, with its quiet and open expression, as well
as the simplicity and ease of his manners, greatly pleased me, for, in
spite of the thin half-circle of hair which was all that was now left
to him, and the want of teeth disclosed by the set of his upper lip, his
face was a remarkably handsome one.
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,
