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Updated: June 20, 2025
The guests below were laughing and mamma was shouting, and suddenly the music began to play, and Yura soon stood in front of the orchestra, spreading his legs apart and, according to his old but long forgotten habit, put his finger into his mouth. The sounds seemed to strike at him all at once; they roared and thundered; they made his legs tingle, and they shook his jaw.
But through his frantic tears he looked at his father to see whether he had guessed it, and when mother came in he started to shout louder in order to divert any suspicion. But he did not go to her arms; he clung more closely to father, so that father had to carry him into his room. But it seemed that he himself did not want to part with Yura.
When they dressed Yura in a red silk rustling blouse, and he thus clearly became part of the festival, and he found on the terrace a long, snow white table glittering with glass dishes, he again commenced to spin about in the whirlpool of the onrushing events. "The musicians have arrived!
Listen, does he shake everybody's hand so firmly?" Mamma said: "What a question! Of course he does! That is no, not everybody." Yura Mikhailovich said: "I feel sorry for him." Mamma said: "For him?" And she laughed strangely. Yurochka understood that they were talking of him, of Yurochka but what did it all mean, O Lord? And why did she laugh? Yura Mikhailovich said: "Where are you going?
When Yura came into the room where the people were playing cards, the serious, bald-headed man was scolding papa for something, brandishing the chalk, talking, shouting, saying that father did not act as he should have acted, that what he had done was impossible, that only bad people did such things, that the old man would never again play with father, and so on.
He ordered the nurse out of the room; but as father was beginning to grow angry, and he might guess what had happened in the arbour, decided to let him go. But while kissing him he said cunningly: "He will not scold you any more, will he?" Papa smiled. Then he laughed, kissed Yura once more and said: "No, no. And if he does I will throw him across the fence." "Please, do," said Yura.
Since things stood or lay there alone, they might also disappear of their accord, he reasoned. And in general it was so wonderful and pleasant that the nurse and the house and the sun existed not only yesterday, but every day; he felt like laughing and singing aloud when he awoke. When people asked him what his name was he answered promptly: "Yura."
The music was still roaring, but now it was somewhere far away, while within him all became quiet, and it was growing ever more and more quiet. Heaving a deep sigh, Yura looked at the sky it was so high and with slow footsteps he started out to make the rounds of the holiday, of all its confused boundaries, possibilities and distances.
Aren't you ashamed?" mother laughed, and this laughter made Yura feel still more alarmed, especially since father did not laugh but maintained the same serious and mournful appearance of Gulliver pining for his native land.... But soon all this was forgotten, for the wonderful festival had begun in all its glory, mystery and grandeur.
Some one laughed; some one shouted. Father caught Yura in his arms, pressed him closely, causing him pain, and cried: "Where is mother? Call mother." Then Yura was seized with a whirlwind of frantic tears, of desperate sobs and mortal anguish.
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