colinka. Well, DO take him, somebody." Consequently, whenever
it came to my turn to guess who had chosen me, I had to go either to
my sister or to one of the ugly elder princesses. Sonetchka seemed so
absorbed in Seriosha that in her eyes I clearly existed no longer. I do
not quite know why I called her "the traitress" in my thoughts, since
she had never promised to choose me instead of Seriosha, but, for all
that, I felt convinced that she was treating me in a very abominable
fashion. After the game was finished, I actually saw "the traitress"
(from whom I nevertheless could not withdraw my eyes) go with Seriosha
and Katenka into a corner, and engage in secret confabulation.
Stealing softly round the piano which masked the conclave, I beheld the
following:

Katenka was holding up a pocket-handkerchief by two of its corners, so
as to form a screen for the heads of her two companions. "No, you have
lost! You must pay the forfeit!" cried Seriosha at that moment, and
Sonetchka, who was standing in front of him, blushed like a criminal
as she replied, "No, I have NOT lost! HAVE I, Mademoiselle Katherine?"
"Well, I must speak the truth," answered Katenka, "and say that you HAVE
lost, my dear." Scarcely had she spoken the words when Seriosha embraced
Sonetchka, and kissed her right on her rosy lips! And Sonetchka smiled
as though it were nothing, but merely something very pleasant!

Horrors! The artful "traitress!"

XIV. THE RETRIBUTION

Instantly, I began to feel a strong contempt for the female sex in
general and Sonetchka in particular. I began to think that there was
nothing at all amusing in these games--that they were only fit for
girls, and felt as though I should like to make a great noise, or to do
something of such extraordinary boldness that every one would be forced
to admire it. The opportunity soon arrived. St. Jerome said something to
Mimi, and then left the room, I could hear his footsteps ascending the
staircase, and then passing across the schoolroom, and the idea occurred
to me that Mimi must have told him her story about my being found on the
landing, and thereupon he had gone to look at the register. (In those
days, it must be remembered, I believed that St. Jerome's whole aim in
life was to annoy me.) Some where I have read that, not infrequently,
children of from twelve to fourteen years of age--that is to say,
children just passing from childhood to adolescence--are addicted to
incendiarism,