s with one another, but, on the
contrary, seemed to cherish a mutual contempt. In general, when Katenka
was at home alone, nothing but novels amused her, and they but slightly;
but as soon as ever a visitor of the opposite sex called, she at once
grew lively and amiable, and used her eyes for saying things which I
could not then understand. It was only later, when she one day informed
me in conversation that the only thing a girl was allowed to indulge
in was coquetry--coquetry of the eyes, I mean--that I understood those
strange contortions of her features which to every one else had seemed a
matter for no surprise at all. Lubotshka also had begun to wear what
was almost a long dress--a dress which almost concealed her goose-shaped
feet; yet she still remained as ready a weeper as ever. She dreamed
now of marrying, not a hussar, but a singer or an instrumentalist, and
accordingly applied herself to her music with greater diligence than
ever. St. Jerome, who knew that he was going to remain with us only
until my examinations were over, and so had obtained for himself a new
post in the family of some count or another, now looked with contempt
upon the members of our household. He stayed indoors very little, took
to smoking cigarettes (then all the rage), and was for ever whistling
lively tunes on the edge of a card. Mimi daily grew more and more
despondent, as though, now that we were beginning to grow up, she looked
for nothing good from any one or anything.

When, on the day of which I am speaking, I went in to luncheon I found
only Mimi, Katenka, Lubotshka, and St. Jerome in the dining-room. Papa
was away, and Woloda in his own room, doing some preparation work for
his examinations in company with a party of his comrades: wherefore he
had requested that lunch should be sent to him there. Of late, Mimi had
usually taken the head of the table, and as none of us had any respect
for her, luncheon had lost most of its refinement and charm. That is
to say, the meal was no longer what it had been in Mamma's or our
grandmother's time, namely, a kind of rite which brought all the family
together at a given hour and divided the day into two halves. We allowed
ourselves to come in as late as the second course, to drink wine in
tumblers (St. Jerome himself set us the example), to roll about on our
chairs, to depart without saying grace, and so on. In fact, luncheon had
ceased to be a family ceremony. In the old days at Petrovskoe,