ments and purchases
depended on her, as before; the imported Alsatian valet made an attempt
to vie with her--and lost his place, in spite of the fact that his master
took his side. So far as the management, the administration, of the
estates was concerned (Glafira Petrovna entered into all these
matters), despite Ivan Petrovitch's frequently expressed intention "to
infuse new life into this chaos," everything remained as of yore, except
that, here and there, the quit-rents were augmented, and the
husbandry-service became more oppressive, and the peasants were forbidden
to apply directly to Ivan Petrovitch. The patriot heartily despised his
fellow-citizens. Ivan Petrovitch's system was applied, in its full
force, to Fedya only: his education actually was subjected to "radical
reform"; his father had exclusive charge of it.

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[4] That is to say, he used such fundamentally national words as occur
only in the Old Church Slavonic, well-nigh untranslatable here, also
employed upon occasions of ceremony.--Translator.

XI

Up to the time of Ivan Petrovitch's return from abroad, Fedya had
been, as we have already said, in the hands of Glafira Petrovna. He was
less than eight years of age when his mother died, he had not seen her
every day, and he had loved her passionately: the memory of her, of her
pale and gentle face, her melancholy glances and timid caresses, had
forever imprinted itself upon his heart; but he dimly comprehended her
position in the house; he was conscious that between him and her there
existed a barrier which she dared not and could not overthrow. He shunned
his father, and Ivan Petrovitch never petted him; his grandfather
occasionally stroked his head, and permitted him to kiss his hand, but he
called him and considered him a little fool. After the death of Malanya
Sergyeevna, his aunt took him in hand definitively. Fedya feared
her,--feared her bright, keen eyes, her sharp voice; he dared not utter a
sound in her presence; it sometimes happened that when he had merely
fidgeted on his chair, she would scream out: "Where art thou going? sit
still!" On Sundays, after the Liturgy, he was permitted to play,--that is
to say, he was given a thick book, a mysterious book, the work of a
certain Maximovitch-Ambodik, entitled: "Symbols and Emblems." This book
contained about a thousand in part very puzzling pictures, with equally
puzzling explanations