" Is that your puss, auntie? " he asked Olenka.
" When she has little ones, do give us a kitten. Mamma is awfully afraid of mice."
Olenka talked to him, and gave him tea. Her heart warmed and there was a sweet ache in her bosom, as though the boy had been her own child. And when he sat at the table in the evening, going over his lessons, she looked at him with deep ten- derness and pity as she murmured to herself:
" You pretty pet I . . . my precious I . . • Such a fair little thing, and so clever."
" ' An island is a piece of land which is entirely surrounded by water,' " he read aloud.
" An island is a piece of land," she repeated, and this was the first opinion to which she gave utter- ance with positive conviction after so many years of silence and dearth of ideas.
Now she had opinions of her own, and at supper she talked to Sasha's parents, saying how difficult the lessons were at the high schools, but that yet the high-school was better than a commercial one, since with a high-school education all careers were open to one, such as being a doctor or an engineer.
Sasha began going to the high school. His mother departed to Harkov to her sister's and did not re- turn; his father used to go off every day to inspect cattle, and would often be away from home for three days together, and it seemed to Olenka as though Sasha was entirely abandoned, that he was not wanted at home, that he was being starved, and she carried
him off to her lodge and gave him a little room there.
And for six months Sasha had lived in the lodge with her. Every morning Olenka came into his bedroom and found him fast asleep, sleeping noise- lessly with his hand under his cheek. She was sorry to wake him.
" Sashenka," she would say mournfully, " get up, darling. It's time for school."
He would get up, dress and say his prayers, and then sit down to breakfast, drink three glasses of tea, and eat two large cracknels and half a but- tered roll. All this time he was hardly awake and a little ill-humoured in consequence.
" You don't quite know your fable, Sashenka," Olenka would say, looking at him as though he were about to set off on a long journey. " What a lot of trouble I have with you I You must work and do your best, darling, and obey your teachers."
" Oh, do leave me alone! " Sasha would say.
Then he would go down the street to school, a little figure, wearing a big cap and carrying a satchel on his shoulder. Olenka would follow him noise- lessly.
" Sashenka I " she would call after him, and she would pop into his hand a date or a caramel. When he reached the street where the school was, he would feel ashamed of being followed by a tall, stout woman; he would turn round and say:
" You'd better go home, auntie. I can go the rest of the way alone."
She would stand still and look after him fixedly till he had disappeared at the school-gate.
Ah, how she loved him I Of her former attach- ments not one had been so deep; never had her soul surrendered to any feeling so spontaneously, so disinterestedly, and so joyously as now that her maternal instincts were aroused. For this littlr boy with the dimple in his cheek and the big school cap, she would have given her whole life, she would have given it with joy and tears of tenderness. Why? Who can tell why?
When she had seen the last of Sasha, she re- turned home, contented and serene, brimming over with love; her face, which had grown younger during the last six months, smiled and beamed; people meet- ing her looked at her with pleasure.
" Good-morning, Olga Semyonovna, darling. How are you, darling? "
11 The lessons at the high school are very diffi- cult now," she would relate at the market. 11 It's too much; in the first class yesterday they gave him a fable to learn by heart, and a Latin translation and a problem. You know it's too much for a little chap."
And she would begin talking about the teachers, the lessons, and the school books, saying just what Sasha said.
At three o'clock they had dinner together: in the evening they learned their lessons together and cried. When she put him to bed, she would stay a long time making the Cross over him and murmuring a prayer;
then she would go to bed and dream of that far-away misty future when Sasha would finish his studies and become a doctor or an engineer, would have a big house of his own with horses and a carriage, would get married and have children. . . . She would fall asleep still thinking of the same thing, and tears would run down her cheeks from her closed eyes, while the black cat lay purring beside her: " Mrr, mrr, mrr."
Suddenly there would come a loud knock at the gate.
Olenka would wake up breathless with alarm, her heart throbbing. Half a minute later would come another knock.
11 It must be a telegram from Harkov," she would think, beginning to tremble from head to foot. " Sasha's mother is sending for him from Harkov. . . . Oh, mercy on us I "
She was in despair. Her head, her hands, and her feet would turn chill, and she would feel that she was the most unhappy woman in the world. But another minute would pass, voices would be heard: it would turn out to be the veterinary surgeon coming home from the club.
" Well, thank God I " she would think.
And gradually the load in her heart would pass off, and she would feel at ease. She would go back to bed thinking of Sasha, who lay sound asleep in the next room, sometimes crying out in his sleep :
11 I'll give it you I Get away I Shut up I "
THE HUSBAND
In the course of the manreuvres the N cavalry
regiment halted for a night at the district town of
K . Such an event as the visit of officers always
has the most exciting and inspiring effect on the in- habitants of provinicial towns. The shopkeepers dream of getting rid of the rusty sausages and " best brand " sardines that have been lying for ten years on their shelves; the inns and restaurants keep open all night; the Military Commandant, his secretary, and the local garrison put on their best uniforms; the police flit to and fro like mad, while the effect on the ladies is beyond all description.
The ladies of K , hearing the regiment ap-
proaching, forsook their pans of boiling jam and ran into the street. Forgetting their morning deshabille and general untidiness, they rushed breathless with excitement to meet the regiment, and listened greedily to the band playing the march. Looking at their pale, ecstatic faces, one might have thought those strains came from some heavenly choir rather than from a military brass band.