he verses
hastily under my pillow and ran down to adorn myself in the new Moscow
garments.

They fitted marvellously-both the brown jacket with yellow buttons (a
garment made skin-tight and not "to allow room for growth," as in
the country) and the black trousers (also close-fitting so that they
displayed the figure and lay smoothly over the boots).

"At last I have real trousers on!" I thought as I looked at my legs with
the utmost satisfaction. I concealed from every one the fact that the
new clothes were horribly tight and uncomfortable, but, on the contrary,
said that, if there were a fault, it was that they were not tight
enough. For a long while I stood before the looking-glass as I combed
my elaborately pomaded head, but, try as I would, I could not reduce the
topmost hairs on the crown to order. As soon as ever I left off combing
them, they sprang up again and radiated in different directions, thus
giving my face a ridiculous expression.

Karl Ivanitch was dressing in another room, and I heard some one
bring him his blue frockcoat and under-linen. Then at the door leading
downstairs I heard a maid-servant's voice, and went to see what she
wanted. In her hand she held a well-starched shirt which she said she
had been sitting up all night to get ready. I took it, and asked if
Grandmamma was up yet.

"Oh yes, she has had her coffee, and the priest has come. My word, but
you look a fine little fellow!" added the girl with a smile at my new
clothes.

This observation made me blush, so I whirled round on one leg, snapped
my fingers, and went skipping away, in the hope that by these manoeuvres
I should make her sensible that even yet she had not realised quite what
a fine fellow I was.

However, when I took the shirt to Karl I found that he did not need it,
having taken another one. Standing before a small looking-glass, he tied
his cravat with both hands--trying, by various motions of his head, to
see whether it fitted him comfortably or not--and then took us down to
see Grandmamma. To this day I cannot help laughing when I remember what
a smell of pomade the three of us left behind us on the staircase as we
descended.

Karl was carrying a box which he had made himself, Woloda, his drawing,
and I my verses, while each of us also had a form of words ready with
which to present his gift. Just as Karl opened the door, the priest put
on his vestment and began to say prayers.

During the ceremony Grandmamma stoo