else with a crash to the floor.
"You disgusting little brute!" exclaimed Woloda, trying to save some of
his falling treasures.
"At last all is over between us," I thought to myself as I strode from
the room. "We are separated now for ever."
It was not until evening that we again exchanged a word. Yet I felt
guilty, and was afraid to look at him, and remained at a loose end all
day.
Woloda, on the contrary, did his lessons as diligently as ever, and
passed the time after luncheon in talking and laughing with the girls.
As soon, again, as afternoon lessons were over I left the room, for
it would have been terribly embarrassing for me to be alone with my
brother. When, too, the evening class in history was ended I took my
notebook and moved towards the door. Just as I passed Woloda, I pouted
and pulled an angry face, though in reality I should have liked to have
made my peace with him. At the same moment he lifted his head, and with
a barely perceptible and good-humouredly satirical smile looked me full
in the face. Our eyes met, and I saw that he understood me, while he,
for his part, saw that I knew that he understood me; yet a feeling
stronger than myself obliged me to turn away from him.
"Nicolinka," he said in a perfectly simple and anything but
mock-pathetic way, "you have been angry with me long enough. I am sorry
if I offended you," and he tendered me his hand.
It was as though something welled up from my heart and nearly choked
me. Presently it passed away, the tears rushed to my eyes, and I felt
immensely relieved.
"I too am so-rry, Wo-lo-da," I said, taking his hand. Yet he only looked
at me with an expression as though he could not understand why there
should be tears in my eyes.
VI. MASHA
None of the changes produced in my conception of things were so striking
as the one which led me to cease to see in one of our chambermaids a
mere servant of the female sex, but, on the contrary, a WOMAN upon whom
depended, to a certain extent, my peace of mind and happiness. From the
time of my earliest recollection I can remember Masha an inmate of our
house, yet never until the occurrence of which I am going to speak--an
occurrence which entirely altered my impression of her--had I bestowed
the smallest attention upon her. She was twenty-five years old, while I
was but fourteen. Also, she was very beautiful. But I hesitate to give a
further description of her lest my imagination should once more
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