The Crushed Flower

by Leonid Andreyev

　　His name was Yura.

　　He was six years old, and the world was to him enormous, alive andbewitchingly mysterious. He knew the sky quite well. He knew itsdeep azure by day, and the white-breasted, half silvery, half goldenclouds slowly floating by. He often watched them as he lay on hisback upon the grass or upon the roof. But he did not know the starsso well, for he went to bed early. He knew well and remembered onlyone star--the green, bright and very attentive star that rises in thepale sky just before you go to bed, and that seemed to be the onlystar so large in the whole sky.

　　But best of all, he knew the earth in the yard, in the street and inthe garden, with all its inexhaustible wealth of stones, of velvetygrass, of hot sand and of that wonderfully varied, mysterious anddelightful dust which grown people did not notice at all from theheight of their enormous size. And in falling asleep, as the lastbright image of the passing day, he took along to his dreams a bit ofhot, rubbed off stone bathed in sunshine or a thick layer of tenderlytickling, burning dust.

　　When he went with his mother to the centre of the city along thelarge streets, he remembered best of all, upon his return, the wide,flat stones upon which his steps and his feet seemed terribly small,like two little boats. And even the multitude of revolving wheelsand horses' heads did not impress themselves so clearly upon hismemory as this new and unusually interesting appearance of the ground.

　　Everything was enormous to him--the fences, the dogs and the people--but that did not at all surprise or frighten him; that only madeeverything particularly interesting; that transformed life into anuninterrupted miracle. According to his measures, various objectsseemed to him as follows:

　　His father--ten yards tall.

　　His mother--three yards.

　　The neighbour's angry dog--thirty yards.

　　Their own dog--ten yards, like papa.

　　Their house of one story was very, very tall--a mile.

　　The distance between one side of the street and the other--two miles.

　　Their garden and the trees in their garden seemed immense,infinitely tall.

　　The city--a million--just how much he did not know.

　　And everything else appeared to him in the same way. He knew manypeople, large and small, but he knew and appreciated better thelittle ones with whom he could speak of everything. The grown peoplebehaved so foolishly and asked such absurd, dull questions aboutthings that everybody knew, that it was necessary for him also tomake believe that he was foolish. He had to lisp and givenonsensical answers; and, of course, he felt like running away fromthem as soon as possible. But there were over him and around him andwithin him two entirely extraordinary persons, at once big and small,wise and foolish, at once his own and strangers--his father and mother.

　　They must have been very good people, otherwise they could not havebeen his father and mother; at any rate, they were charming andunlike other people. He could say with certainty that his father wasvery great, terribly wise, that he possessed immense power, whichmade him a person to be feared somewhat, and it was interesting totalk with him about unusual things, placing his hand in father'slarge, strong, warm hand for safety's sake.

　　Mamma was not so large, and sometimes she was even very small; shewas very kind hearted, she kissed tenderly; she understood very wellhow he felt when he had a pain in his little stomach, and only withher could he relieve his heart when he grew tired of life, of hisgames or when he was the victim of some cruel injustice. And if itwas unpleasant to cry in father's presence, and even dangerous to becapricious, his tears had an unusually pleasant taste in mother'spresence and filled his soul with a peculiar serene sadness, which hecould find neither in his games nor in laughter, nor even in thereading of the most terrible fairy tales.

　　It should be added that mamma was a beautiful woman and thateverybody was in love with her. That was good, for he felt proud ofit, but that was also bad--for he feared that she might be takenaway. And every time one of the men, one of those enormous,invariably inimical men who were busy with themselves, looked atmamma fixedly for a long time, Yura felt bored and uneasy. He feltlike stationing himself between him and mamma, and no matter where hewent to attend to his own affairs, something was drawing him back.

　　Sometimes mamma would utter a bad, terrifying phrase:

　　"Why are you forever staying around here? Go and play in your ownroom."

　　There was nothing left for him to do but to go away. He would takea book along or he would sit down to draw, but that did not alwayshelp him. Sometimes mamma would praise him for reading but sometimesshe would say again:

　　"You had better go to your own room, Yurochka. You see, you'vespilt water on the tablecloth again; you always do some mischief withyour drawing."

　　And then she would reproach him for being perverse. But he feltworst of all when a dangerous and suspicious guest would come whenYura had to go to bed. But when he lay down in his bed a sense ofeasiness came over him and he felt as though all was ended; thelights went out, life stopped; everything slept.

　　In all such cases with suspicious men Yura felt vaguely but verystrongly that he was replacing father in some way. And that made himsomewhat like a grown man--he was in a bad frame of mind, like agrown person, but, therefore, he was unusually calculating, wise andserious. Of course, he said nothing about this to any one, for noone would understand him; but, by the manner in which he caressedfather when he arrived and sat down on his knees patronisingly, onecould see in the boy a man who fulfilled his duty to the end. Attimes father could not understand him and would simply send him awayto play or to sleep--Yura never felt offended and went away with afeeling of great satisfaction. He did not feel the need of beingunderstood; he even feared it. At times he would not tell under anycircumstances why he was crying; at times he would make believe thathe was absent minded, that he heard nothing, that he was occupiedwith his own affairs, but he heard and understood.

　　And he had a terrible secret. He had noticed that theseextraordinary and charming people, father and mother, were sometimesunhappy and were hiding this from everybody. Therefore he was alsoconcealing his discovery, and gave everybody the impression that allwas well. Many times he found mamma crying somewhere in a corner inthe drawing room, or in the bedroom--his own room was next to herbedroom--and one night, very late, almost at dawn, he heard theterribly loud and angry voice of father and the weeping voice ofmother. He lay a long time, holding his breath, but then he was soterrified by that unusual conversation in the middle of the nightthat he could not restrain himself and he asked his nurse in a softvoice:

　　"What are they saying?"

　　And the nurse answered quickly in a whisper:

　　"Sleep, sleep. They are not saying anything."

　　"I am coming over to your bed."

　　"Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Such a big boy!"

　　"I am coming over to your bed."

　　Thus, terribly afraid lest they should be heard, they spoke inwhispers and argued in the dark; and the end was that Yura moved overto nurse's bed, upon her rough, but cosy and warm blanket.

　　In the morning papa and mamma were very cheerful and Yura pretendedthat he believed them and it seemed that he really did believe them.But that same evening, and perhaps it was another evening, he noticedhis father crying. It happened in the following way: He was passinghis father's study, and the door was half open; he heard a noise andhe looked in quietly--father lay face downward upon his couch andcried aloud. There was no one else in the room. Yura went away,turned about in his room and came back--the door was still half open,no one but father was in the room, and he was still sobbing. If hecried quietly, Yura could understand it, but he sobbed loudly, hemoaned in a heavy voice and his teeth were gnashing terribly. He laythere, covering the entire couch, hiding his head under his broadshoulders, sniffing heavily--and that was beyond his understanding.And on the table, on the large table covered with pencils, papers anda wealth of other things, stood the lamp burning with a red flame,and smoking--a flat, greyish black strip of smoke was coming out andbending in all directions.

　　Suddenly father heaved a loud sigh and stirred. Yura walked awayquietly. And then all was the same as ever. No one would havelearned of this; but the image of the enormous, mysterious andcharming man who was his father and who was crying remained in Yura'smemory as something dreadful and extremely serious. And, if therewere things of which he did not feel like speaking, it was absolutelynecessary to say nothing of this, as though it were something sacredand terrible, and in that silence he must love father all the more.But he must love so that father should not notice it, and he mustgive the impression that it is very jolly to live on earth.

　　And Yura succeeded in accomplishing all this. Father did not noticethat he loved him in a special manner; and it was really jolly tolive on earth, so there was no need for him to make believe. Thethreads of his soul stretched themselves to all--to the sun, to theknife and the cane he was peeling; to the beautiful and enigmaticdistance which he saw from the top of the iron roof; and it was hardfor him to separate himself from all that was not himself. When thegrass had a strong and fragrant odour it seemed to him that it was hewho had such a fragrant odour, and when he lay down in his bed,however strange it may seem, together with him in his little bed laydown the enormous yard, the street, the slant threads of the rain andthe muddy pools and the whole, enormous, live, fascinating,mysterious world. Thus all fell asleep with him and thus allawakened with him, and together with him they all opened their eyes.And there was one striking fact, worthy of the profoundest reflection--if he placed a stick somewhere in the garden in the evening it wasthere also in the morning; and the knuckle-bones which he hid in abox in the barn remained there, although it was dark and he went tohis room for the night. Because of this he felt a natural need forhiding under his pillow all that was most valuable to him. Sincethings stood or lay there alone, they might also disappear of theiraccord, he reasoned. And in general it was so wonderful and pleasantthat 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."

　　But some people were not satisfied with this alone, and they wantedto know his full name--and then he replied with a certain effort:

　　"Yura Mikhailovich."

　　And after a moment's thought he added:

　　"Yura Mikhailovich Pushkarev."

　　CHAPTER II

　　An unusual day arrived. It was mother's birthday. Guests wereexpected in the evening; military music was to play, and in thegarden and upon the terrace parti-coloured lanterns were to burn, andYura need not go to bed at 9 o'clock but could stay up as late as heliked.

　　Yura got up when all were still sleeping. He dressed himself andjumped out quickly with the expectation of miracles. But he wasunpleasantly surprised--the rooms were in the same disorder as usualin the morning; the cook and the chambermaid were still sleeping andthe door was closed with a hook--it was hard to believe that thepeople would stir and commence to run about, and that the rooms wouldassume a holiday appearance, and he feared for the fate of thefestival. It was still worse in the garden. The paths were notswept and there was not a single lantern there. He grew very uneasy.Fortunately, Yevmen, the coachman, was washing the carriage behindthe barn in the back yard and though he had done this frequentlybefore, and though there was nothing unusual about his appearance,Yura clearly felt something of the holiday in the decisive way inwhich the coachman splashed the water from the bucket with his sinewyarms, on which the sleeves of his red blouse were rolled up to hiselbows. Yevmen only glanced askance at Yura, and suddenly Yura seemedto have noticed for the first time his broad, black, wavy beard andthought respectfully that Yevmen was a very worthy man. He said:

　　"Good morning, Yevmen."

　　Then all moved very rapidly. Suddenly the janitor appeared andstarted to sweep the paths, suddenly the window in the kitchen wasthrown open and women's voices were heard chattering; suddenly thechambermaid rushed out with a little rug and started to beat it witha stick, as though it were a dog. All commenced to stir; and theevents, starting simultaneously in different places, rushed with suchmad swiftness that it was impossible to catch up with them. Whilethe nurse was giving Yura his tea, people were beginning to hang upthe wires for the lanterns in the garden, and while the wires werebeing stretched in the garden, the furniture was rearrangedcompletely in the drawing room, and while the furniture wasrearranged in the drawing room, Yevmen, the coachman, harnessed thehorse and drove out of the yard with a certain special, mysteriousmission.

　　Yura succeeded in concentrating himself for some time with thegreatest difficulty. Together with father he was hanging up thelanterns. And father was charming; he laughed, jested, put Yura onthe ladder; he himself climbed the thin, creaking rungs of theladder, and finally both fell down together with the ladder upon thegrass, but they were not hurt. Yura jumped up, while father remainedlying on the grass, hands thrown back under his head, looking withhalf-closed eyes at the shining, infinite azure of the sky. Thuslying on the grass, with a serious expression on his face, apparentlynot in the mood for play, father looked very much like Gulliverlonging for his land of giants. Yura recalled something unpleasant;but to cheer his father up he sat down astride upon his knees and said:

　　"Do you remember, father, when I was a little boy I used to sit downon your knees and you used to shake me like a horse?"

　　But before he had time to finish he lay with his nose on the grass;he was lifted in the air and thrown down with force--father hadthrown him high up with his knees, according to his old habit. Yurafelt offended; but father, entirely ignoring his anger, began totickle him under his armpits, so that Yura had to laugh against hiswill; and then father picked him up like a little pig by the legs andcarried him to the terrace. And mamma was frightened.

　　"What are you doing? The blood will rush to his head!"

　　After which Yura found himself standing on his legs, red faced,dishevelled, feeling very miserable and terribly happy at the sametime.

　　The day was rushing fast, like a cat that is chased by a dog. Likeforerunners of the coming great festival, certain messengers appearedwith notes, wonderfully tasty cakes were brought, the dressmaker cameand locked herself in with mamma in the bedroom; then two gentlemenarrived, then another gentleman, then a lady--evidently the entirecity was in a state of agitation. Yura examined the messengers asthough they were strange people from another world, and walked beforethem with an air of importance as the son of the lady whose birthdaywas to be celebrated; he met the gentlemen, he escorted the cakes,and toward midday he was so exhausted that he suddenly started todespise life. He quarrelled with the nurse and lay down in his bedface downward in order to have his revenge on her; but he fell asleepimmediately. He awoke with the same feeling of hatred for life and adesire for revenge, but after having looked at things with his eyes,which he washed with cold water, he felt that both the world and lifewere so fascinating that they were even funny.

　　When they dressed Yura in a red silk rustling blouse, and he thusclearly became part of the festival, and he found on the terrace along, snow white table glittering with glass dishes, he againcommenced to spin about in the whirlpool of the onrushing events.

　　"The musicians have arrived! The musicians have arrived!" he cried,looking for father or mother, or for any one who would treat thearrival of the musicians with proper seriousness. Father and motherwere sitting in the garden--in the arbour which was thicklysurrounded with wild grapes--maintaining silence; the beautiful headof mother lay on father's shoulder; although father embraced her, heseemed very serious, and he showed no enthusiasm when he was told ofthe arrival of the musicians. Both treated their arrival withinexplicable indifference, which called forth a feeling of sadness inYura. But mamma stirred and said:

　　"Let me go. I must go."

　　"Remember," said father, referring to something Yura did notunderstand but which resounded in his heart with a light, gnawingalarm.

　　"Stop. Aren't you ashamed?" mother laughed, and this laughter madeYura feel still more alarmed, especially since father did not laughbut maintained the same serious and mournful appearance of Gulliverpining for his native land....

　　But soon all this was forgotten, for the wonderful festival hadbegun in all its glory, mystery and grandeur. The guests came fast,and there was no longer any place at the white table, which had beendeserted but a while before. Voices resounded, and laughter andmerry jests, and the music began to play. And on the deserted pathsof the garden where but a while ago Yura had wandered alone,imagining himself a prince in quest of the sleeping princess, nowappeared people with cigarettes and with loud free speech. Yura metthe first guests at the front entrance; he looked at each onecarefully, and he made the acquaintance and even the friendship ofsome of them on the way from the corridor to the table.

　　Thus he managed to become friendly with the officer, whose name wasMitenka--a grown man whose name was Mitenka--he said so himself.Mitenka had a heavy leather sword, which was as cold as a snake,which could not be taken out--but Mitenka lied; the sword was onlyfastened at the handle with a silver cord, but it could be taken outvery nicely; and Yura felt vexed because the stupid Mitenka insteadof carrying his sword, as he always did, placed it in a corner in thehallway as a cane. But even in the corner the sword stood out alone--one could see at once that it was a sword. Another thing thatdispleased Yura was that another officer came with Mitenka, anofficer whom Yura knew and whose name was also Yura Mikhailovich.Yura thought that the officer must have been named so for fun. Thatwrong Yura Mikhailovich had visited them several times; he even cameonce on horseback; but most of the time he came just before littleYura had to go to bed. And little Yura went to bed, while the unrealYura Mikhailovich remained with mamma, and that caused him to feelalarmed and sad; he was afraid that mamma might be deceived. He paidno attention to the real Yura Mikhailovich: and now, walking besideMitenka, he did not seem to realise his guilt; he adjusted hismoustaches and maintained silence. He kissed mamma's hand, and thatseemed repulsive to little Yura; but the stupid Mitenka also kissedmamma's hand, and thereby set everything aright.

　　But soon the guests arrived in such numbers, and there was such avariety of them, as if they had fallen straight from the sky. Andsome of them seemed to have fallen near the table, while othersseemed to have fallen into the garden. Suddenly several students andladies appeared in the path. The ladies were ordinary, but thestudents had holes cut at the left side of their white coats--fortheir swords. But they did not bring their swords along, no doubtbecause of their pride--they were all very proud. And the ladiesrushed over to Yura and began to kiss him. Then the most beautifulof the ladies, whose name was Ninochka, took Yura to the swing andswung him until she threw him down. He hurt his left leg near theknee very painfully and even stained his little white pants in thatspot, but of course he did not cry, and somehow his pain had quicklydisappeared somewhere. At this time father was leading an important-looking bald-headed old man in the garden, and he asked Yurochka,

　　"Did you get hurt?"

　　But as the old man also smiled and also spoke, Yurochka did not kissfather and did not even answer him; but suddenly he seemed to havelost his mind--he commenced to squeal for joy and to run around. Ifhe had a bell as large as the whole city he would have rung thatbell; but as he had no such bell he climbed the linden tree, whichstood near the terrace, and began to show off. The guests below werelaughing and mamma was shouting, and suddenly the music began toplay, and Yura soon stood in front of the orchestra, spreading hislegs apart and, according to his old but long forgotten habit, puthis finger into his mouth. The sounds seemed to strike at him all atonce; they roared and thundered; they made his legs tingle, and theyshook his jaw. They played so loudly that there was nothing but theorchestra on the whole earth--everything else had vanished. Thebrass ends of some of the trumpets even spread apart and opened widefrom the great roaring; Yura thought that it would be interesting tomake a military helmet out of such a trumpet.

　　Suddenly Yura grew sad. The music was still roaring, but now it wassomewhere far away, while within him all became quiet, and it wasgrowing ever more and more quiet. Heaving a deep sigh, Yura lookedat the sky--it was so high--and with slow footsteps he started out tomake the rounds of the holiday, of all its confused boundaries,possibilities and distances. And everywhere he turned out to be toolate; he wanted to see how the tables for card playing would bearranged, but the tables were ready and people had been playing cardsfor a long time when he came up. He touched the chalk and the brushnear his father and his father immediately chased him away. What ofthat, what difference did that make to him? He wanted to see howthey would start to dance and he was sure that they would dance inthe parlour, but they had already commenced to dance, not in theparlour, but under the linden trees. He wanted to see how they wouldlight the lanterns, but the lanterns had all been lit already, everyone of them, to the very last of the last. They lit up of themselveslike stars.

　　Mamma danced best of all.

　　CHAPTER III

　　Night arrived in the form of red, green and yellow lanterns. Whilethere were no lanterns, there was no night. And now it layeverywhere. It crawled into the bushes; it covered the entire gardenwith darkness, as with water, and it covered the sky. Everythinglooked as beautiful as the very best fairy tale with colouredpictures. At one place the house had disappeared entirely; only thesquare window made of red light remained. And the chimney of thehouse was visible and there a certain spark glistened, looked downand seemed to think of its own affairs. What affairs do chimneyshave? Various affairs.

　　Of the people in the garden only their voices remained. As long assome one walked near the lanterns he could be seen; but as soon as hewalked away all seemed to melt, melt, melt, and the voice above theground laughed, talked, floating fearlessly in the darkness. But theofficers and the students could be seen even in the dark--a whitespot, and above it a small light of a cigarette and a big voice.

　　And now the most joyous thing commenced for Yura--the fairy tale.The people and the festival and the lanterns remained on earth, whilehe soared away, transformed into air, melting in the night like agrain of dust. The great mystery of the night became his mystery,and his little heart yearned for still more mystery; in its solitudehis heart yearned for the fusion of life and death. That was Yura'ssecond madness that evening--he became invisible. Although he couldenter the kitchen as others did, he climbed with difficulty upon theroof of the cellar over which the kitchen window was flooded withlight and he looked in; there people were roasting something, busyingthemselves, and did not know that he was looking at them--and yet hesaw everything! Then he went away and looked at papa's and mamma'sbedroom; the room was empty; but the beds had already been made forthe night and a little image lamp was burning--he saw that. Then helooked into his own room; his own bed was also ready, waiting forhim. He passed the room where they were playing cards, also as aninvisible being, holding his breath and stepping so lightly, asthough he were soaring in the air. Only when he reached the garden,in the dark, he drew a proper breath. Then he resumed his quest. Hecame over to people who were talking so near him that he could touchthem with his hand, and yet they did not know that he was there, andthey continued to speak undisturbed. He watched Ninochka for a longtime until he learned all her life--he was almost trapped. Ninochkaeven exclaimed:

　　"Yurochka, is that you?"

　　He lay down behind a bush and held his breath. Thus Ninochka wasdeceived. And she had almost caught him! To make things moremysterious, he started to crawl instead of walk--now the alleysseemed full of danger. Thus a long time went by--according to hisown calculations at the time, ten years went by, and he was stillhiding and going ever farther away from the people. And thus he wentso far that he was seized with dread--between him and the past, whenhe was walking like everybody else, an abyss was formed over which itseemed to him impossible to cross. Now he would have come out intothe light but he was afraid--it was impossible; all was lost. Andthe music was still playing, and everybody had forgotten him, evenmamma. He was alone. There was a breath of cold from the dewygrass; the gooseberry bush scratched him, the darkness could not bepierced with his eyes, and there was no end to it. O Lord!

　　Without any definite plan, in a state of utter despair, Yura nowcrawled toward a mysterious, faintly blinking light. Fortunately itturned out to be the same arbour which was covered with wild grapesand in which father and mother had sat that day. He did notrecognise it at first! Yes, it was the same arbour. The lights ofthe lanterns everywhere had gone out, and only two were stillburning; a yellow little lantern was still burning brightly, and theother, a yellow one, too, was already beginning to blink. And thoughthere was no wind, that lantern quivered from its own blinking, andeverything seemed to quiver slightly. Yura was about to get up to gointo the arbour and there begin life anew, with an imperceptibletransition from the old, when suddenly he heard voices in the arbour.His mother and the wrong Yura Mikhailovich, the officer, weretalking. The right Yura grew petrified in his place; his heart stoodstill; and his breathing ceased.

　　Mamma said:

　　"Stop. You have lost your mind! Somebody may come in here."

　　Yura Mikhailovich said:

　　"And you?"

　　Mamma said:

　　"I am twenty-six years old to-day. I am old!"

　　Yura Mikhailovich said:

　　"He does not know anything. Is it possible that he does not knowanything? He does not even suspect? Listen, does he shakeeverybody'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 weretalking of him, of Yurochka--but what did it all mean, O Lord? Andwhy did she laugh?

　　Yura Mikhailovich said:

　　"Where are you going? I will not let you go."

　　Mamma said:

　　"You offend me. Let me go! No, you have no right to kiss me. Letme go!"

　　They became silent. Now Yurochka looked through the leaves and sawthat the officer embraced and kissed mamma. Then they spoke ofsomething, but he understood nothing; he heard nothing; he suddenlyforgot the meaning of words. And he even forgot the words which heknew and used before. He remembered but one word, "Mamma," and hewhispered it uninterruptedly with his dry lips, but that word soundedso terrible, more terrible than anything. And in order not toexclaim it against his will, Yura covered his mouth with both hands,one upon the other, and thus remained until the officer and mammawent out of the arbour.

　　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 notact as he should have acted, that what he had done was impossible,that only bad people did such things, that the old man would neveragain play with father, and so on. And father was smiling, wavinghis hands, attempting to say something, but the old man would not lethim, and he commenced to shout more loudly. And the old man was alittle fellow, while father was big, handsome and tall, and his smilewas sad, like that of Gulliver pining for his native land of tall andhandsome people.

　　Of course, he must conceal from him--of course, he must conceal fromhim that which happened in the arbour, and he must love him, and hefelt that he loved him so much. And with a wild cry Yura rushed overto the bald-headed old man and began to beat him with his fists withall his strength.

　　"Don't you dare insult him! Don't you dare insult him!"

　　O Lord, what has happened! Some one laughed; some one shouted.Father caught Yura in his arms, pressed him closely, causing himpain, and cried:

　　"Where is mother? Call mother."

　　Then Yura was seized with a whirlwind of frantic tears, of desperatesobs and mortal anguish. But through his frantic tears he looked athis father to see whether he had guessed it, and when mother came inhe started to shout louder in order to divert any suspicion. But hedid not go to her arms; he clung more closely to father, so thatfather had to carry him into his room. But it seemed that he himselfdid not want to part with Yura. As soon as he carried him out of theroom where the guests were he began to kiss him, and he repeated:

　　"Oh, my dearest! Oh, my dearest!"

　　And he said to mamma, who walked behind him:

　　"Just think of the boy!"

　　Mamma said:

　　"That is all due to your whist. You were scolding each other so,that the child was frightened."

　　Father began to laugh, and answered:

　　"Yes, he does scold harshly. But Yura, oh, what a dear boy!"

　　In his room Yura demanded that father himself undress him. "Now,you are getting cranky," said father. "I don't know how to do it;let mamma undress you."

　　"But you stay here."

　　Mamma had deft fingers and she undressed him quickly, and while shewas removing his clothes Yura held father by the hand. He orderedthe 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 lethim 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. "You can do it. You are so strong."

　　"Yes, I am pretty strong. But you had better sleep! Mamma willstay here with you a while."

　　Mamma said:

　　"I will send the nurse in. I must attend to the supper."

　　Father shouted:

　　"There is plenty of time for that! You can stay a while with thechild."

　　But mamma insisted:

　　"We have guests! We can't leave them that way."

　　But father looked at her steadfastly, and shrugged his shoulders.Mamma decided to stay.

　　"Very well, then, I'll stay here. But see that Maria does not mixup the wines."

　　Usually it was thus: when mamma sat near Yura as he was fallingasleep she held his hand until the last moment--that is what sheusually did. But now she sat as though she were all alone, as thoughYura, her son, who was falling asleep, was not there at all--shefolded her hands in her lap and looked into the distance. To attracther attention Yura stirred, but mamma said briefly:

　　"Sleep."

　　And she continued to look. But when Yura's eyes had grown heavy andhe was falling asleep with all his sorrow and his tears, mammasuddenly went down on her knees before the little bed and kissed Yurafirmly many, many times. But her kisses were wet--hot and wet.

　　"Why are your kisses wet? Are you crying?" muttered Yura.

　　"Yes, I am crying."

　　"You must not cry."

　　"Very well, I won't," answered mother submissively.

　　And again she kissed him firmly, firmly, frequently, frequently.Yura lifted both hands with a heavy movement, clasped his motheraround the neck and pressed his burning cheek firmly to her wet andcold cheek. She was his mother, after all; there was nothing to bedone. But how painful; how bitterly painful!