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"Ah!" she cried, seeing him, and beaming with delight. "Kostya! Konstantin Dmitrievitch!" I'm going through my wardrobe to see what's for whom..." "Oh! that's very nice!" he said gloomily, looking at the maid. "You can go, Dunyasha, I'll call you presently," said Kitty. "Kostya, what's the matter?" she asked, definitely adopting this familiar name as soon as the maid had gone out.
Marya Konstantinovna sat her down and gave her coffee, regaled her with milk rolls, then showed her photographs of her former pupils, the Garatynskys, who were by now married. She showed her, too, the examination reports of Kostya and Katya.
They will come by you along the road; those, that is, who will die that year. Last year old Ulyana went to the porch. 'Well, did she see anyone? asked Kostya inquisitively. 'To be sure she did.
Suddenly a white dove flew straight into the bright light, fluttered round and round in terror, bathed in the red glow, and disappeared with a whirr of its wings. 'It's lost its home, I suppose, remarked Pavel. 'Now it will fly till it gets somewhere, where it can rest till dawn. 'Why, Pavlusha, said Kostya, 'might it not be a just soul flying to heaven?
All were silent for a little. 'Well, inquired Fedya, 'are the potatoes done? Pavlusha tried them. 'No, they are raw.... My, what a splash! he added, turning his face in the direction of the river; 'that must be a pike.... And there's a star falling. 'I say, I can tell you something, brothers, began Kostya, in a shrill little voice; 'listen what my dad told me the other day.
They talked about the decadents, about "The Maid of Orleans," and Kostya delivered a regular monologue; he fancied that he was very successful in imitating Ermolova. Then they sat down and played whist.
And in the village there were such tales about among us: that white wolves would run over the earth, and would eat men, that a bird of prey would pounce down on us, and that they would even see Trishka. 'What is Trishka? asked Kostya. 'Why, don't you know? interrupted Ilyusha warmly. 'Why, brother, where have you been brought up, not to know Trishka?
Kostya, with a very serious face, sat down to the table and drew the Scripture history towards him. "Well," he said; "where have you got to?" "She knows about the Flood," said Sasha. "The Flood? All right. Let's peg in at the Flood. Fire away about the Flood."
If the Laptevs were not going to the theatre or a concert, the evening tea lingered on till supper. One evening in February the following conversation took place: "A work of art is only significant and valuable when there are some serious social problems contained in its central idea," said Kostya, looking wrathfully at Yartsev.
At that moment Kotchevoy came down the stairs with a paper in his hand. The little girls stood up, and without looking at him, made curtsies. "For God's sake, Kostya, give them their lessons," said Laptev, turning to him. "I'm afraid I shall cry, too, and I have to go to the warehouse before dinner." "All right." Alexey Fyodorovitch went away.
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