im to that
school any more. I heard that he was standing up against all the class
alone and defying them all, that his heart was full of resentment, of
bitterness--I was alarmed about him. We went for another walk. 'Father,' he
asked, 'are the rich people stronger than any one else on earth?' 'Yes,
Ilusha,' I said, 'there are no people on earth stronger than the rich.'
'Father,' he said, 'I will get rich, I will become an officer and conquer
everybody. The Tsar will reward me, I will come back here and then no one
will dare--' Then he was silent and his lips still kept trembling.
'Father,' he said, 'what a horrid town this is.' 'Yes, Ilusha,' I said,
'it isn't a very nice town.' 'Father, let us move into another town, a
nice one,' he said, 'where people don't know about us.' 'We will move, we
will, Ilusha,' said I, 'only I must save up for it.' I was glad to be able
to turn his mind from painful thoughts, and we began to dream of how we
would move to another town, how we would buy a horse and cart. 'We will
put mamma and your sisters inside, we will cover them up and we'll walk,
you shall have a lift now and then, and I'll walk beside, for we must take
care of our horse, we can't all ride. That's how we'll go.' He was
enchanted at that, most of all at the thought of having a horse and
driving him. For of course a Russian boy is born among horses. We
chattered a long while. Thank God, I thought, I have diverted his mind and
comforted him.

"That was the day before yesterday, in the evening, but last night
everything was changed. He had gone to school in the morning, he came back
depressed, terribly depressed. In the evening I took him by the hand and
we went for a walk; he would not talk. There was a wind blowing and no
sun, and a feeling of autumn; twilight was coming on. We walked along,
both of us depressed. 'Well, my boy,' said I, 'how about our setting off
on our travels?' I thought I might bring him back to our talk of the day
before. He didn't answer, but I felt his fingers trembling in my hand. Ah,
I thought, it's a bad job; there's something fresh. We had reached the
stone where we are now. I sat down on the stone. And in the air there were
lots of kites flapping and whirling. There were as many as thirty in
sight. Of course, it's just the season for the kites. 'Look, Ilusha,' said
I, 'it's time we got out our last year's kite again. I'll mend it, where
have you put it away?' My boy made no answer. He looked away