第7章

When, on the day of which I am speaking, I went in to luncheon I found only Mimi, Katenka, Lubotshka, and St.Jerome in the dining-room.Papa was away, and Woloda in his own room, doing some preparation work for his examinations in company with a party of his comrades: wherefore he had requested that lunch should be sent to him there.Of late, Mimi had usually taken the head of the table, and as none of us had any respect for her, luncheon had lost most of its refinement and charm.That is to say, the meal was no longer what it had been in Mamma's or our grandmother's time, namely, a kind of rite which brought all the family together at a given hour and divided the day into two halves.We allowed ourselves to come in as late as the second course, to drink wine in tumblers (St.Jerome himself set us the example), to roll about on our chairs, to depart without saying grace, and so on.In fact, luncheon had ceased to be a family ceremony.In the old days at Petrovskoe, every one had been used to wash and dress for the meal, and then to repair to the drawing-room as the appointed hour (two o'clock) drew near, and pass the time of waiting in lively conversation.Just as the clock in the servants' hall was beginning to whirr before striking the hour, Foka would enter with noiseless footsteps, and, throwing his napkin over his arm and assuming a dignified, rather severe expression, would say in loud, measured tones: "Luncheon is ready!" Thereupon, with pleased, cheerful faces, we would form a procession--the elders going first and the juniors following, and, with much rustling of starched petticoats and subdued creaking of boots and shoes--would proceed to the dining-room, where, still talking in undertones, the company would seat themselves in their accustomed places.Or, again, at Moscow, we would all of us be standing before the table ready-laid in the hall, talking quietly among ourselves as we waited for our grandmother, whom the butler, Gabriel, had gone to acquaint with the fact that luncheon was ready.Suddenly the door would open, there would come the faint swish of a dress and the sound of footsteps, and our grandmother--dressed in a mob-cap trimmed with a quaint old lilac bow, and wearing either a smile or a severe expression on her face according as the state of her health inclined her--would issue from her room.Gabriel would hasten to precede her to her arm-chair, the other chairs would make a scraping sound, and, with a feeling as though a cold shiver (the precursor of appetite) were running down one's back, one would seize upon one's damp, starched napkin, nibble a morsel or two of bread, and, rubbing one's hands softly under the table, gaze with eager, radiant impatience at the steaming plates of soup which the butler was beginning to dispense in order of ranks and ages or according to the favour of our grandmother.

On the present occasion, however, I was conscious of neither excitement nor pleasure when I went in to luncheon.Even the mingled chatter of Mimi, the girls, and St.Jerome about the horrible boots of our Russian tutor, the pleated dresses worn by the young Princesses Kornakoff, and so forth (chatter which at any other time would have filled me with a sincerity of contempt which I should have been at no pains to conceal--at all events so far as Lubotshka and Katenka were concerned), failed to shake the benevolent frame of mind into which I had fallen.I was unusually good-humoured that day, and listened to everything with a smile and a studied air of kindness.Even when I asked for the kvas I did so politely, while I lost not a moment in agreeing with St.

Jerome when he told me that it was undoubtedly more correct to say "Je peux" than "Je puis." Yet, I must confess to a certain disappointment at finding that no one paid any particular attention to my politeness and good-humour.After luncheon, Lubotshka showed me a paper on which she had written down a list of her sins: upon which I observed that, although the idea was excellent so far as it went, it would be still better for her to write down her sins on her SOUL--"a very different matter."

"Why is it 'a very different matter'?" asked Lubotshka.