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"Speak out: aren't you going?" "Oh dear," Volodya wept softly. "How can I go? I feel so unhappy about mamma." "My pale-face brother, I pray you, let us set off. You declared you were going, you egged me on, and now the time comes, you funk it!" "I . . . I . . . I'm not funking it, but I . . . I . . . I'm sorry for mamma." "Say once and for all, are you going or are you not?"
You must talk, laugh. . . . Yes, Volodya, don't be surly; you are young and will have plenty of time for philosophising. Come, let go of me; I am going. Let go." Without effort she released her waist, and, humming something, walked out of the arbour. Volodya was left alone.
"I . . . I . . . I am coming!" "Well, put on your things, then." And Lentilov tried to cheer Volodya up by singing the praises of America, growling like a tiger, pretending to be a steamer, scolding him, and promising to give him all the ivory and lions' and tigers' skins.
But I turned away from her, and whispered through my sobs, 'I know all. Why did you play with me?... What need had you of my love? 'I am to blame, Volodya ... said Zinaida. 'I am very much to blame ... she added, wringing her hands. 'How much there is bad and black and sinful in me!... But I am not playing with you now.
Dyadka Nikolai, the valet of us children, a neat little man, brought in the clothes for me and Volodya, who was imitating my sister's governess, Marya Ivanova, in mocking, merry laughter. Somewhat sternly presently Karl Ivanitch called from the schoolroom to know if we were nearly ready to begin our lessons.
The whole Korolyov family, who had been expecting their Volodya from hour to hour, rushed to the windows. At the front door stood a wide sledge, with three white horses in a cloud of steam. The sledge was empty, for Volodya was already in the hall, untying his hood with red and chilly fingers.
In her loose wrap, with her sleepy face and her hair down, in the dim light that came into the white sky not yet lit by the sun, she seemed to Volodya captivating, magnificent. . . . Fascinated, trembling all over, and remembering with relish how he had held that exquisite body in his arms in the arbour, he handed her the bottle and said: "How wonderful you are!" "What?" She came into the room.
He jumped up, went out of the arbour, and, without looking round, walked into the recesses of the garden furthest from the house. "Ah! only to get away from here as soon as possible," he thought, clutching his head. "My God! as soon as possible." The train by which Volodya was to go back with his maman was at eight-forty.
Sofya Lvovna's father was an army doctor, and had at one time served in the same regiment with Colonel Yagitch. Volodya's father was an army doctor too, and he, too, had once been in the same regiment as her father and Colonel Yagitch. In spite of many amatory adventures, often very complicated and disturbing, Volodya had done splendidly at the university, and had taken a very good degree.
Finally, Tibertius himself pleads the child's cause so eloquently that Volodya is not scolded and the father allows him to go and say good-bye to his little friend, who has meanwhile died of privation. The day after the little girl's funeral the whole band disappears without leaving a trace behind them.
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