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Updated: May 10, 2025
"Word of hon-nour!" carolled Seryozha, pressing hard on the pencil and bending over the drawing. "Word of hon-nour!" "Does he know what is meant by word of honour?" Bykovsky asked himself. "No, I am a poor teacher of morality!
But papa would be sitting keen and alert on his English saddle, with the wooden stirrups, smoking a cigarette, while Seryozha would perhaps have got his leash entangled and could not get it straight. "Thank heaven!" we would exclaim, "nobody saw me! What a fool I should have felt!" So we would ride on.
"Seryozha," she said, as soon as the governess had left the room, "that was wrong, but you'll never do it again, will you?... You love me?" She felt that the tears were coming into her eyes. "Can I help loving him?" she said to herself, looking deeply into his scared and at the same time delighted eyes. "And can he ever join his father in punishing me? Is it possible he will not feel for me?"
"Shall I bring in the samovar?" he asked in a ringing voice. "Yes, please, Seryozha. This is my pupil; have you never met him before?" "No." "He used to go to Nikolay sometimes; I sent him." Liudmila seemed to the mother to be different to-day simpler and nearer to her.
"Well, and how are you getting on?" he said, wanting to talk to him, and not knowing what to say. The boy, blushing and making no answer, cautiously drew his hand away. As soon as Stepan Arkadyevitch let go his hand, he glanced doubtfully at his father, and like a bird set free, he darted out of the room. A year had passed since the last time Seryozha had seen his mother.
And he was going away, but now she detained him. "Alexey Alexandrovitch, leave me Seryozha!" she whispered once more. "I have nothing else to say. Leave Seryozha till my...I shall soon be confined; leave him!" Alexey Alexandrovitch flew into a rage, and, snatching his hand from her, he went out of the room without a word.
Reflecting finally that his duty was to get Seryozha up at the hour fixed, and that it was therefore not his business to consider who was there, the mother or anyone else, but simply to do his duty, he finished dressing, went to the door and opened it. But the embraces of the mother and child, the sound of their voices, and what they were saying, made him change his mind.
Abandoning his drawing, Seryozha shifted about once more, got into a comfortable attitude, and busied himself with his father's beard. First he carefully smoothed it, then he parted it and began combing it into the shape of whiskers. "Now you are like Ivan Stepanovitch," he said, "and in a minute you will be like our porter. Papa, why is it porters stand by doors?
"Thank God! tomorrow I shall see Seryozha and Alexey Alexandrovitch, and my life will go on in the old way, all nice and as usual." Still in the same anxious frame of mind, as she had been all that day, Anna took pleasure in arranging herself for the journey with great care.
Vassily Lukitch replied that the Vladimir was greater than the Alexander Nevsky. "And higher still?" "Well, highest of all is the Andrey Pervozvanny." "And higher than the Andrey?" "I don't know." "What, you don't know?" and Seryozha, leaning on his elbows, sank into deep meditation. His meditations were of the most complex and diverse character.
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