to me, and gazing inquiringly into my face, for a year, I should never
be able to enunciate another syllable. After staring at me for some
three minutes, he suddenly assumed a mournful cast of countenance, and
said in an agitated voice to Woloda (who was just re-entering the room):
'Allow me the register. I will write my remarks.'
He opened the book thoughtfully, and in his fine caligraphy marked FIVE
for Woloda for diligence, and the same for good behaviour. Then, resting
his pen on the line where my report was to go, he looked at me and
reflected. Suddenly his hand made a decisive movement and, behold,
against my name stood a clearly-marked ONE, with a full stop after it!
Another movement and in the behaviour column there stood another one and
another full stop! Quietly closing the book, the master then rose, and
moved towards the door as though unconscious of my look of entreaty,
despair, and reproach.
'Michael Lavionitch!' I said.
'No!' he replied, as though knowing beforehand what I was about to say.
'It is impossible for you to learn in that way. I am not going to earn
my money for nothing.'
He put on his goloshes and cloak, and then slowly tied a scarf about his
neck. To think that he could care about such trifles after what had just
happened to me! To him it was all a mere stroke of the pen, but to me it
meant the direst misfortune.
'Is the lesson over?' asked St. Jerome, entering.
'Yes.'
'And was the master pleased with you?'
'Yes.'
'How many marks did he give you?'
'Five.'
'And to Nicholas?'
I was silent.
'I think four,' said Woloda. His idea was to save me for at least today.
If punishment there must be, it need not be awarded while we had guests.
'Voyons, Messieurs!' (St. Jerome was forever saying 'Voyons!') 'Faites
votre toilette, et descendons.'
XII. THE KEY
We had hardly descended and greeted our guests when luncheon was
announced. Papa was in the highest of spirits since for some time
past he had been winning. He had presented Lubotshka with a silver tea
service, and suddenly remembered, after luncheon, that he had forgotten
a box of bonbons which she was to have too.
'Why send a servant for it? YOU had better go, Koko,' he said to me
jestingly. 'The keys are in the tray on the table, you know. Take them,
and with the largest one open the second drawer on the right. There you
will find the box of bonbons. Bring it here.'
'Shall I get you some cigars as well?' said I, knowing that he always
smoked after luncheon.
'Yes, do; but don't touch anything else.'
I found the keys, and was about to carry out my orders, when I was
seized with a desire to know what the smallest of the keys on the bunch
belonged to.
On the table I saw, among many other things, a padlocked portfolio,
and at once felt curious to see if that was what the key fitted. My
experiment was crowned with success. The portfolio opened and disclosed
a number of papers. Curiosity so strongly urged me also to ascertain
what those papers contained that the voice of conscience was stilled,
and I began to read their contents. . . .
My childish feeling of unlimited respect for my elders, especially for
Papa, was so strong within me that my intellect involuntarily refused to
draw any conclusions from what I had seen. I felt that Papa was living
in a sphere completely apart from, incomprehensible by, and unattainable
for, me, as well as one that was in every way excellent, and that any
attempt on my part to criticise the secrets of his life would constitute
something like sacrilege.
For this reason, the discovery which I made from Papa's portfolio left
no clear impression upon my mind, but only a dim consciousness that I
had done wrong. I felt ashamed and confused.
The feeling made me eager to shut the
