l you his!"

"Fool!" Liza was so bold to think. "Idiot!"

Before evening Liza was hugging and kissing Mishutka. At first the
boy howled, but when he was offered jam, he was all friendly smiles.

For three days Groholsky and Liza did not see Bugrov. He had
disappeared somewhere, and was only at home at night. On the fourth
day he visited them again at dinner-time. He came in, shook hands
with both of them, and sat down to the table. His face was serious.

"I have come to you on business," he said. "Read this." And he
handed Groholsky a letter. "Read it! Read it aloud!"

Groholsky read as follows:

"My beloved and consoling, never-forgotten son Ioann! I have received
the respectful and loving letter in which you invite your aged
father to the mild and salubrious Crimea, to breathe the fragrant
air, and behold strange lands. To that letter I reply that on taking
my holiday, I will come to you, but not for long. My colleague,
Father Gerasim, is a frail and delicate man, and cannot be left
alone for long. I am very sensible of your not forgetting your
parents, your father and your mother. . . . You rejoice your father
with your affection, and you remember your mother in your prayers,
and so it is fitting to do. Meet me at Feodosia. What sort of town
is Feodosia--what is it like? It will be very agreeable to see
it. Your godmother, who took you from the font, is called Feodosia.
You write that God has been graciously pleased that you should win
two hundred thousand roubles. That is gratifying to me. But I cannot
approve of your having left the service while still of a grade of
little importance; even a rich man ought to be in the service. I
bless you always, now and hereafter. Ilya and Seryozhka Andronov
send you their greetings. You might send them ten roubles each--
they are badly off!

"Your loving Father,

"Pyotr Bugrov, _Priest._"

Groholsky read this letter aloud, and he and Liza both looked
inquiringly at Bugrov.

"You see what it is," Ivan Petrovitch began hesitatingly. "I should
like to ask you, Liza, not to let him see you, to keep out of his
sight while he is here. I have written to him that you are ill and
gone to the Caucasus for a cure. If you meet him. . . You see
yourself. . . . It's awkward. . . H'm. . . ."

"Very well," said Liza.

"We can do that," thought Groholsky, "since he makes sacrifices,
why shouldn't we?"