“Yes, indeed! They have printed something about me! Now all of Russia knows about me! Mama, please keep this number as a souvenir! You can look at it from time to time. Just look!”
Mitya pulled a newspaper from his pocket and handed it to his father. He pointed to a place marked with a blue pencil.
“Read that!”
His father put on his spectacles.
“Go on! Read it!”
Mama gazed at the icon and crossed herself. Papa cleared his throat and began to read:
“December 29, at eleven o’clock in the evening, the collegiate registrar Dmitry Kuldarov …”
“See? See? Go on!”
“… the collegiate registrar Dmitry Kuldarov, coming out of the tavern situated at the Kozikhin house on Little Armorer Street, being in an intoxicated condition …”
“That’s right! I was with Semyon Petrovich.… It’s absolutely correct! Go on! Read the next line! Listen, all of you!”
“… being in an intoxicated condition, slipped and fell under a horse belonging to the cabman Ivan Drotov, a peasant from the village of Durikina in the Yuknovsky district. The terrified horse jumped over Kuldarov, dragging the sleigh after it: in which sleigh sat Stepan Lukov, merchant in the Second Guild of Moscow Merchants. The horse galloped down the street until brought to a halt by house porters. Kuldarov, after being unconscious for some moments, was removed to a police station for examination by the appropriate medical officers. A blow sustained by him at the back of the neck …”
“That was from the shaft, Papa. Go on! Read further down!”
“… A blow sustained by him at the back of the neck was pronounced to be slight. The victim was given medical assistance.”
“They put bandages soaked in cold water round my neck. Read it! There you are! All of Russia knows about it! Give me the newspaper!”
Mitya took the newspaper, folded it, and slipped it into his pocket.
“I’ll have to run to the Makarovs and show it to them.… And then the Ivanitskys. Natalia Ivanovna and Anisim Vasilich must see it, too.… I must run now! Good-by!”
Then Mitya crammed the cap with the cockade on his head, and ran joyously, triumphantly, down the street.
T
JUST a few days ago I invited Yulia Vassilyevna, the governess of my children, to come to my study. I wanted to settle my account with her.
“Sit down, Yulia Vassilyevna,” I said to her. “Let’s get our accounts settled. I’m sure you need some money, but you kept standing on ceremony and never ask for it. Let me see. We agreed to give you thirty rubles a month, didn’t we?”
“Forty.”
“No, thirty. I made a note of it. I always pay the governess thirty. Now, let me see. You have been with us for two months?”
“Two months and five days.”
“Two months exactly. I made a note of it. So you have sixty rubles coming to you. Subtract nine Sundays. You know you don’t tutor Kolya on Sundays, you just go out for a walk. And then the three holidays …”
Yulia Vassilyevna blushed and picked at the trimmings of her dress, but said not a word.
“Three holidays. So we take off twelve rubles. Kolya was sick for four days—those days you didn’t look after him. You looked after Vanya, only Vanya. Then there were the three days you had toothache, when my wife gave you permission to stay away from the children after dinner. Twelve and seven makes nineteen. Subtract.… That leaves … hm … forty-one rubles. Correct?”
Yulia Vassilyevna’s left eye reddened and filled with tears. Her chin trembled. She began to cough nervously, blew her nose, and said nothing.
“Then around New Year’s Day you broke a cup and saucer. Subtract two rubles. The cup cost more than that— it was a heirloom, but we won’t bother about that. We’re the ones who pay. Another matter. Due to your carelessness Kolya climbed a tree and tore his coat. Subtract ten. Also, due to your carelessness the chambermaid ran off with Varya’s boots. You ought to have kept your eyes open. You get a good salary. So we dock off five more.… On the tenth of January you took ten rubles from me.”
“I didn’t,” Yulia Vassilyevna whispered.
“But I made a note of it.”
“Well, yes—perhaps …”
“From forty-one we take twenty-seven. That leaves fourteen.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and her thin, pretty little nose was shining with perspiration. Poor little child!
“I only took money once,” she said in a trembling voice. “I took three rubles from your wife … never anything more.”
“Did you now? You see, I never made a note of it. Take three from fourteen. That leaves eleven. Here’s your money, my dear. Three, three, three … one and one. Take it, my dear.”
