one off laughing.

A pedlar went trotting across the road with a tray, and we laughed.
Some ragged cabmen, brandishing their reins and driving at full speed,
overtook our sledge, and we laughed again. Next, Philip's whip got
caught in the side of the vehicle, and the way in which he said, "Bother
the thing!" as he drove to disentangle it almost killed us with mirth.
Mimi looked displeased, and said that only silly people laughed for
no reason at all, but Lubotshka--her face purple with suppressed
merriment--needed but to give me a sly glance, and we again burst out
into such Homeric laughter, when our eyes met, that the tears rushed
into them and we could not stop our paroxysms, although they nearly
choked us. Hardly, again, had we desisted a little when I looked at
Lubotshka once more, and gave vent to one of the slang words which we
then affected among ourselves--words which always called forth hilarity;
and in a moment we were laughing again.

Just as we reached home, I was opening my mouth to make a splendid
grimace at Lubotshka when my eye fell upon a black coffin-cover which
was leaning against the gate--and my mouth remained fixed in its gaping
position.

"Your Grandmamma is dead," said St. Jerome as he met us. His face was
very pale.

Throughout the whole time that Grandmamma's body was in the house I was
oppressed with the fear of death, for the corpse served as a forcible
and disagreeable reminder that I too must die some day--a feeling which
people often mistake for grief. I had no sincere regret for Grandmamma,
nor, I think, had any one else, since, although the house was full of
sympathising callers, nobody seemed to mourn for her from their hearts
except one mourner whose genuine grief made a great impression upon me,
seeing that the mourner in question was--Gasha! She shut herself up in
the garret, tore her hair and refused all consolation, saying that, now
that her mistress was dead, she only wished to die herself.

I again assert that, in matters of feeling, it is the unexpected effects
that constitute the most reliable signs of sincerity.

Though Grandmamma was no longer with us, reminiscences and gossip about
her long went on in the house. Such gossip referred mostly to her will,
which she had made shortly before her death, and of which, as yet, no
one knew the contents except her bosom friend, Prince Ivan Ivanovitch.
I could hear the servants talking excitedly together, and making
innumerable