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Fortunately, Yevmen, the coachman, was washing the carriage behind the barn in the back yard and though he had done this frequently before, and though there was nothing unusual about his appearance, Yura clearly felt something of the holiday in the decisive way in which the coachman splashed the water from the bucket with his sinewy arms, on which the sleeves of his red blouse were rolled up to his elbows.
Yura examined the messengers as though they were strange people from another world, and walked before them with an air of importance as the son of the lady whose birthday was to be celebrated; he met the gentlemen, he escorted the cakes, and toward midday he was so exhausted that he suddenly started to despise life.
But father looked at her steadfastly, and shrugged his shoulders. Mamma decided to stay. "Very well, then, I'll stay here. But see that Maria does not mix up the wines." Usually it was thus: when mamma sat near Yura as he was falling asleep she held his hand until the last moment that is what she usually did.
Yura recalled something unpleasant; but to cheer his father up he sat down astride upon his knees and said: "Do you remember, father, when I was a little boy I used to sit down on your knees and you used to shake me like a horse?"
He remembered but one word, "Mamma," and he whispered it uninterruptedly with his dry lips, but that word sounded so terrible, more terrible than anything. And in order not to exclaim it against his will, Yura covered his mouth with both hands, one upon the other, and thus remained until the officer and mamma went out of the arbour.
And again she kissed him firmly, firmly, frequently, frequently. Yura lifted both hands with a heavy movement, clasped his mother around the neck and pressed his burning cheek firmly to her wet and cold cheek. She was his mother, after all; there was nothing to be done. But how painful; how bitterly painful! Exhausted with the painful uncertainty of the day, I fell asleep, dressed, on my bed.
But Yura, oh, what a dear boy!" In his room Yura demanded that father himself undress him. "Now, you are getting cranky," said father. "I don't know how to do it; let mamma undress you." "But you stay here." Mamma had deft fingers and she undressed him quickly, and while she was removing his clothes Yura held father by the hand.
After which Yura found himself standing on his legs, red faced, dishevelled, feeling very miserable and terribly happy at the same time. The day was rushing fast, like a cat that is chased by a dog.
The latter is a long, narrow island stretching from the northeast of Shikoku towards the shore of the main island which it approaches very closely at the Strait of Yura and forming what may be called a gate, closing the eastern entrance to the Inland Sea.
Yura jumped up, while father remained lying on the grass, hands thrown back under his head, looking with half-closed eyes at the shining, infinite azure of the sky. Thus lying on the grass, with a serious expression on his face, apparently not in the mood for play, father looked very much like Gulliver longing for his land of giants.
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