figures to Papa with a peculiar expression on his face.) 'Well, surely
you see for yourself how little that is? And even then we should lose if
we were to sell the stuff now, for you must know that--'
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 delighted in consequence.
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 to-night?' 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 one around you.'
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 Papa.
'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 to-day, 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. He is miserable enough already.'
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 lessons--though he also
consoled us by promising to take us out hunting later.
On my way upstairs I made a digression to the terrace. Near the door
leading on to it Papa's favourite hound, Milka, was lying in the sun and
blinking her eyes.
'Miloshka,' I cried as I caressed her and kissed her nose, 'we are going
away today. Good-bye. Perhaps we shall never see each other again.' I
was crying and laughing at the same time.
IV -- LESSONS
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 dressing-gown 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
