to Mimi's rules). It was for us to go to her
and say, "Bon jour, Mimi," and then make her a low bow; after which we
should possibly be permitted to enter into conversation with the girls.

What an intolerable creature that Mimi was! One could hardly say a word
in her presence without being found fault with. Also whenever we wanted
to speak in Russian, she would say, "Parlez, donc, francais," as though
on purpose to annoy us, while, if there was any particularly nice
dish at luncheon which we wished to enjoy in peace, she would keep on
ejaculating, "Mangez, donc, avec du pain!" or, "Comment est-ce que vous
tenez votre fourchette?" "What has SHE got to do with us?" I used to
think to myself. "Let her teach the girls. WE have our Karl Ivanitch." I
shared to the full his dislike of "certain people."

"Ask Mamma to let us go hunting too," Katenka whispered to me, as she
caught me by the sleeve just when the elders of the family were making a
move towards the dining-room.

"Very well. I will try."

Grisha likewise took a seat in the dining-room, but at a little table
apart from the rest. He never lifted his eyes from his plate, but kept
on sighing and making horrible grimaces, as he muttered to himself:
"What a pity! It has flown away! The dove is flying to heaven! The stone
lies on the tomb!" and so forth.

Ever since the morning Mamma had been absent-minded, and Grisha's
presence, words, and actions seemed to make her more so.

"By the way, there is something I forgot to ask you," she said, as she
handed Papa a plate of soup.

"What is it?"

"That you will have those dreadful dogs of yours tied up, They nearly
worried poor Grisha to death when he entered the courtyard, and I am
sure they will bite the children some day."

No sooner did Grisha hear himself mentioned that he turned towards our
table and showed us his torn clothes. Then, as he went on with his meal,
he said: "He would have let them tear me in pieces, but God would not
allow it! What a sin to let the dogs loose--a great sin! But do not beat
him, master; do not beat him! It is for God to forgive! It is past now!"

"What does he say?" said Papa, looking at him gravely and sternly. "I
cannot understand him at all."

"I think he is saying," replied Mamma, "that one of the huntsmen set
the dogs on him, but that God would not allow him to be torn in pieces,
Therefore he begs you not to punish the man."

"Oh, is that it?" said Papa, "How does he know tha