Therefore he begs you not to punish the man."
"Oh, is that it?" said Papa, "How does he know that I intended to
punish the huntsman? You know, I am not very fond of fellows like this,"
he added in French, "and this one offends me particularly. Should it
ever happen that--"
"Oh, don't say so," interrupted Mamma, as if frightened by some thought.
"How can you know what he is?"
"I think I have plenty of opportunities for doing so, since no lack of
them come to see you--all of them the same sort, and probably all with
the same story."
I could see that Mamma's opinion differed from his, but that she did not
mean to quarrel about it.
"Please hand me the cakes," she said to him, "Are they good to-day or
not?"
"Yes, I AM angry," he went on as he took the cakes and put them where
Mamma could not reach them, "very angry at seeing supposedly reasonable
and educated people let themselves be deceived," and he struck the table
with his fork.
"I asked you to hand me the cakes," she repeated with outstretched hand.
"And it is a good thing," Papa continued as he put the hand aside, "that
the police run such vagabonds in. All they are good for is to play upon
the nerves of certain people who are already not over-strong in
that respect," and he smiled, observing that Mamma did not like the
conversation at all. However, he handed her the cakes.
"All that I have to say," she replied, "is that one can hardly believe
that a man who, though sixty years of age, goes barefooted winter and
summer, and always wears chains of two pounds' weight, and never
accepts the offers made to him to live a quiet, comfortable life--it is
difficult to believe that such a man should act thus out of laziness."
Pausing a moment, she added with a sigh: "As to predictions, je suis
payee pour y croire, I told you, I think, that Grisha prophesied the
very day and hour of poor Papa's death?"
"Oh, what HAVE you gone and done?" said Papa, laughing and putting his
hand to his cheek (whenever he did this I used to look for something
particularly comical from him). "Why did you call my attention to his
feet? I looked at them, and now can eat nothing more."
Luncheon was over now, and Lubotshka and Katenka were winking at us,
fidgeting about in their chairs, and showing great restlessness. The
winking, of course, signified, "Why don't you ask whether we too may go
to the hunt?" I nudged Woloda, and Woloda nudged me back, until at last
I took heart of grace, and began (at first shyly, but gradually with
more assurance) to ask if it would matter much if the girls too were
allowed to enjoy the sport. Thereupon a consultation was held among the
elder folks, and eventually leave was granted--Mamma, to make things
still more delightful, saying that she would come too.
VI -- PREPARATIONS FOR THE CHASE
During dessert Jakoff had been sent for, and orders given him to have
ready the carriage, the hounds, and the saddle-horses--every detail
being minutely specified, and every horse called by its own particular
name. As Woloda's usual mount was lame, Papa ordered a "hunter" to be
saddled for him; which term, "hunter" so horrified Mamma's ears, that
she imagined it to be some kind of an animal which would at once run
away and bring about Woloda's death. Consequently, in spite of all
Papa's and Woloda's assurances (the latter glibly affirming that it was
nothing, and that he liked his horse to go fast), poor Mamma continued
to exclaim that her pleasure would be quite spoilt for her.
When luncheon was over, the grown-ups had coffee in the study, while
we younger ones ran into the garden and went chattering along the
undulating paths with their carpet of yellow leaves. We talked about
Woloda's riding a hunter and said what a shame it was that Lubotshka,
could not run as fast as Katenka, and what fun it would be if we could
see Grisha's chains, and so forth; but of the impending separation
we said not a word. Our chatter was interrupted by the sound of the
carriage driving up, with a village urchin perched on each of its
springs. Behind the carriage rode the huntsmen with the hounds, and
they, again, were followed by the groom Ignat on the steed intended
for Woloda, with my old horse trotting alongside. After running to
the garden fence to get a sight of all these interesting objects, and
indulging in a chorus of whistling and hallooing, we rushed upstairs to
dress--our one aim being to make ourselves look as like the huntsmen as
possible. The obvious way to do this was to tuck one's breeches inside
one's boots. We lost no time over it all, for we were in a hurry to run
to the entrance steps again there to feast our eyes upon the horses and
hounds, and to have a chat with the huntsmen. The day was exceedingly
warm while, though clouds of fantastic shape had been gathering on the
horizon since morning and driving before a light breeze across the sun,
it was clear that, for all their menacing blackness, they did not
really intend to form a thunderstorm and spoil our last day's pleasure.
Moreover, towards afternoon some of them broke, grew pale and elongated,
and sank to the horizon again, while others of them changed to the
likeness of white transparent fish-scales. In the east, over Maslovska,
a single lurid mass was louring, but Karl Ivanitch (who always seemed to
know the ways of the heavens) said that the weather would still continue
to be fair and dry.
In spite of his advanced years, it was in quite a sprightly manner that
Foka came out to the entrance steps, to give the order "Drive up."
In fact, as he planted his legs firmly apart and took up his station
between the lowest step and the spot where the coachman was to halt,
his mien was that of a man who knew his duties and had no need to be
reminded of them by anybody. Presently the ladies, also came out, and
after a little discussions as to seats and the safety of the girls (all
of which seemed to me wholly superfluous), they settled themselves in
the vehicle, opened their parasols, and started. As the carriage was,
driving away, Mamma pointed to the hunter and asked nervously "Is that
the horse intended for Vladimir Petrovitch?" On the groom answering
in the affirmative, she raised her hands in horror and turned her head
away. As for myself, I was burning with impatience. Clambering on to
the back of my steed (I was just tall enough to see between its ears), I
proceeded to perform evolutions in the courtyard.
"Mind you don't ride over the hounds, sir," said one of the huntsmen.
"Hold your tongue. It is not the first time I have been one of the
party." I retorted with dignity.
Although Woloda had plenty of pluck, he was not altogether free from
apprehensions as he sat on the hunter. Indeed, he more than once asked
as he patted it, "Is he quiet?" He looked very well on horseback--almost
a grown-up young man, and held himself so upright in the saddle that I
envied him since my shadow seemed to show that I could not compare with
him in looks.
Presently Papa's footsteps sounded on the flagstones, the whip collected
the hounds, and the huntsmen mounted their steeds. Papa's horse came up
in charge of a groom, the hounds of his particular leash sprang up from
their picturesque attitudes to fawn upon him, and Milka, in a collar