sits, although it is
quite possible that some details have escaped me.

I remember that when we expected Turgenieff on his first visit, it was
a great occasion, and the most anxious and excited of all the household
about it was my mother. She told us that my father had quarreled with
Turgenieff and had once challenged him to a duel, and that he was now
coming at my father's invitation to effect a reconciliation.

Turgenieff spent all the time sitting with my father, who during his
visit put aside even his work, and once in the middle of the day my
mother collected us all at a quite unusual hour in the drawing-room,
where Ivan Sergeyevitch read us his story of "The Dog."

I can remember his tall, stalwart figure, his gray, silky, yellowish
hair, his soft tread, rather waddling walk, and his piping voice, quite
out of keeping with his majestic exterior. He had a chuckling kind of
laugh, like a child's, and when he laughed his voice was more piping
than ever.

In the evening, after dinner, we all gathered in the zala. At that time
Uncle Seryozha, Prince Leonid Dmitryevitch Urusof, Vice-Governor of the
Province of Tula; Uncle Sasha Behrs and his young wife, the handsome
Georgian Patty; and the whole family of the Kuzminskys, were staying at
Yasnaya.

Aunt Tanya was asked to sing. We listened with beating hearts, and
waited to hear what Turgenieff, the famous connoisseur, would say about
her singing. Of course he praised it, sincerely, I think. After the
singing a quadrille was got up. All of a sudden, in the middle of the
quadrille, Ivan Sergeyevitch, who was sitting at one side looking on,
got up and took one of the ladies by the hand, and, putting his thumbs
into the armholes of his waistcoat, danced a cancan according to the
latest rules of Parisian art. Everyone roared with laughter, Turgenieff
more than anybody.

After tea the "grown-ups" started some conversation, and a warm dispute
arose among them. It was Prince Urusof who disputed most warmly, and
"went for" Turgenieff.

Of Turgenieff's third visit I remember the woodcock shooting. This was
on the second or third of May, 1880.

We all went out together beyond the Voronka, my father, my mother and
all the children. My father gave Turgenieff the best place and posted
himself one hundred and fifty paces away at the other end of the same
glade.

My mother stood by Turgenieff, and we children lighted a bonfire not far
off.

My father fired several shots an