reefer jacket and cotton breeches
tucked into his high boots, brought in the samovar and made the
tea.

"It's very nice weather now, Konstantin Ivanovitch," he said.

"It is, but I tell you what, brother, it's a pity we can't get on,
you and I, without such exclamations."

Pyotr sighed from politeness.

"What are the little girls doing?" asked Kotchevoy.

"The priest has not come. Alexey Fyodorovitch is giving them their
lesson himself."

Kostya found a spot in the window that was not covered with frost,
and began looking through a field-glass at the windows of the house
where the French family lived.

"There's no seeing," he said.

Meanwhile Alexey Fyodorovitch was giving Sasha and Lida a scripture
lesson below. For the last six weeks they had been living in Moscow,
and were installed with their governess in the lower storey of the
lodge. And three times a week a teacher from a school in the town,
and a priest, came to give them lessons. Sasha was going through
the New Testament and Lida was going through the Old. The time
before Lida had been set the story up to Abraham to learn by heart.

"And so Adam and Eve had two sons," said Laptev. "Very good. But
what were they called? Try to remember them!"

Lida, still with the same severe face, gazed dumbly at the table.
She moved her lips, but without speaking; and the elder girl, Sasha,
looked into her face, frowning.

"You know it very well, only you mustn't be nervous," said Laptev.
"Come, what were Adam's sons called?"

"Abel and Canel," Lida whispered.

"Cain and Abel," Laptev corrected her.

A big tear rolled down Lida's cheek and dropped on the book. Sasha
looked down and turned red, and she, too, was on the point of tears.
Laptev felt a lump in his throat, and was so sorry for them he could
not speak. He got up from the table and lighted a cigarette. At
that moment Kotchevoy came down the stairs with a paper in his hand.
The little girls stood up, and without looking at him, made curtsies.

"For God's sake, Kostya, give them their lessons," said Laptev,
turning to him. "I'm afraid I shall cry, too, and I have to go to
the warehouse before dinner."

"All right."

Alexey Fyodorovitch went away. Kostya, with a very serious face,
sat down to the table and drew the Scripture history towards him.

"Well," he said; "where have you got to?"

"She knows about the Flood," said Sasha.

"The Flood? All right. Let's peg in at the Flood. Fire away about