Marya Nikitishna came back and guessed it at once. The proverb was: “Dreadful the dream, but God is merciful.”
Marya Nikitishna was followed by the ruffled young man in blue spectacles. Of him still greater precautions were demanded—that he stand by the gazebo and turn his face fully toward the fence. The gloomy young man did his duty with disdain and even seemed to feel a certain moral humiliation. When he was called back, he could not guess anything, went around to each person, listening twice to what they told him, spent a long time gloomily reflecting, but nothing came of it. He was put to shame. The proverb was: “Prayer to God and service to the tsar are never in vain.”
“Besides, it’s a disgusting proverb!” the wounded youth grumbled indignantly, retreating to his place.
“Ah, how boring!” voices were heard.
Velchaninov went; he was hidden farther away than the others; he also failed to guess.
“Ah, how boring!” still more voices were heard.
“Well, now I’ll go,” said Nadya.
“No, no, now Pavel Pavlovich will go, it’s Pavel Pavlovich’s turn,” they all shouted and livened up a bit.
Pavel Pavlovich was taken right to the fence, to the corner, and placed facing it, and to keep him from turning around, the little redhead was set to watch him. Pavel Pavlovich, already cheered up and almost merry again, piously intended to do his duty and stood like a stump staring at the fence, not daring to turn around. The little redhead kept watch some twenty paces behind him, closer to the company, by the gazebo, exchanging excited winks with the other girls; one could see that they were all expecting something, even with a certain anxiousness; something was being prepared. Suddenly the little redhead waved her arms from behind the gazebo. That instant they all jumped up and rushed off somewhere at breakneck speed.
“You run, too!” ten voices whispered to Velchaninov, all but horrified that he was not running.
“What is it? What’s happened?” he kept asking, hurrying after them all.
“Quiet, don’t shout! Let him stand there and stare at the fence while we all run away. Here’s Nastya running, too!”
The little redhead (Nastya) was running headlong as if God knows what had happened, and waving her arms. They all came finally, beyond the pond, to a completely different end of the garden. When Velchaninov got there, he saw that Katerina Fedoseevna was having a big argument with all the girls and especially with Nadya and Marya Nikitishna.
“Katya, darling, don’t be angry!” Nadya was kissing her.
“All right, I won’t tell Mama, but I shall leave myself, because this is not nice at all. What must the poor man be feeling there by the fence?”
She left out of pity, but all the rest remained as implacable and pitiless as before. It was sternly demanded of Velchaninov that, when Pavel Pavlovich came back, he also pay no attention to him, as if nothing had happened. “And let’s all play fox and hounds!” the little redhead cried out rapturously.
Pavel Pavlovich rejoined the company only after at least a quarter of an hour. He must have spent two thirds of that time standing at the fence. Fox and hounds was in full swing and succeeded excellently—everyone shouted and had fun. Mad with rage, Pavel Pavlovich sprang straight up to Velchaninov and again grabbed him by the sleeve.
“For one little moment, sir!”
“Oh, Lord, what’s with him and his little moments!”
“Asking for a handkerchief again,” the cry came after them.
“Well, this time it’s you, sir; here it’s you now, sir, you are the cause of it!” Pavel Pavlovich’s teeth even chattered as he articulated this.
Velchaninov interrupted him and peaceably advised him to be more cheerful, or else he would be teased to death: “They tease you because you’re angry while everyone else is having fun.” To his amazement, Pavel Pavlovich was terribly struck by his words and advice; he at once became quiet, even to the point of returning to the company like a guilty man and obediently taking part in the general games; for some time afterward they did not bother him and played with him like anyone else—and before half an hour had gone by, he was almost cheerful again. In all the games, he engaged himself as a partner, when need be, predominantly with the treacherous little redhead or one of the Zakhlebinin sisters. But Velchaninov noticed, to his still greater amazement, that Pavel Pavlovich hardly dared even once to address Nadya, though he ceaselessly fussed around her or near her; at least he accepted the position of one unnoticed and scorned by her as if it were proper, natural. But in the end a prank was again played on him even so.
The game was hide-and-seek. The person hiding, incidentally, had the right to change his place within the whole area in which he was allowed to hide. Pavel Pavlovich, who had managed to hide by getting himself into a thick bush, suddenly decided to change his place and run into the house. There was shouting, he was seen; he hastily sneaked upstairs, having in mind a little place behind a chest of drawers where he wanted to hide. But the little redhead flew up after him, tiptoed stealthily to the door, and snapped the lock. As before, everyone at once stopped playing and again ran beyond the pond to the other end of the garden. About ten minutes later, Pavel Pavlovich, sensing that no one was looking for him, peeked out the window. No one was there. He did not dare shout lest he awaken the parents; the maid and the serving girl had been given strict orders not to come or respond to Pavel Pavlovich’s call. Katerina Fedoseevna could have opened the door for him, but she, having returned to her room, sat down in reverie and unexpectedly fell asleep herself. He sat like that for about an hour. At last, girls began to appear in twos and threes, passing by as if inadvertently.
“Pavel Pavlovich, why don’t you join us? Ah, it’s such fun there! We’re playing theater. Alexei Ivanovich had the role of the ‘young man.’ ”
“Pavel Pavlovich, why don’t you join us, it’s you one always misses!” other young misses observed, passing by.
“Who is it, again, that one always misses?” suddenly came the voice of Mme. Zakhlebinin, who had just woken up and decided finally to take a stroll in the garden and watch the “children’s” games while waiting for tea.
“It’s Pavel Pavlovich there.” She was shown the window through which peeked, with a distorted smile, pale with anger, the face of Pavel Pavlovich.
