"

The train by which Volodya was to go back with his _maman_ was at
eight-forty. There were three hours before the train started, but
he would with pleasure have gone to the station at once without
waiting for his _maman_.

At eight o'clock he went to the house. His whole figure was expressive
of determination: what would be, would be! He made up his mind to
go in boldly, to look them straight in the face, to speak in a loud
voice, regardless of everything.

He crossed the terrace, the big hall and the drawing-room, and there
stopped to take breath. He could hear them in the dining-room,
drinking tea. Madame Shumihin, _maman_, and Nyuta were talking and
laughing about something.

Volodya listened.

"I assure you!" said Nyuta. "I could not believe my eyes! When he
began declaring his passion and--just imagine!--put his arms
round my waist, I should not have recognised him. And you know he
has a way with him! When he told me he was in love with me, there
was something brutal in his face, like a Circassian."

"Really!" gasped _maman_, going off into a peal of laughter. "Really!
How he does remind me of his father!"

Volodya ran back and dashed out into the open air.

"How could they talk of it aloud!" he wondered in agony, clasping
his hands and looking up to the sky in horror. "They talk aloud in
cold blood . . . and _maman_ laughed! . . . _Maman!_ My God, why
didst Thou give me such a mother? Why?"

But he had to go to the house, come what might. He walked three
times up and down the avenue, grew a little calmer, and went into
the house.

"Why didn't you come in in time for tea?" Madame Shumihin asked
sternly.

"I am sorry, it's . . . it's time for me to go," he muttered, not
raising his eyes. "_Maman_, it's eight o'clock!"

"You go alone, my dear," said his _maman_ languidly. "I am staying
the night with Lili. Goodbye, my dear. . . . Let me make the sign
of the cross over you."

She made the sign of the cross over her son, and said in French,
turning to Nyuta:

"He's rather like Lermontov . . . isn't he?"

Saying good-bye after a fashion, without looking any one in the
face, Volodya went out of the dining-room. Ten minutes later he was
walking along the road to the station, and was glad of it. Now he
felt neither frightened nor ashamed; he breathed freely and easily.

About half a mile from the station, he sat down on a stone by the
side of the road, and gazed at the sun, which was half hidden be