of the rumours of the Count's approaching visit he had
a choir practice every day, morning and evening. The choir practice
was held at the school. It did not interfere much with the school
work. During the practice the schoolmaster, Sergey Makaritch, set
the children writing copies while he joined the tenors as an amateur.

This is how the choir practice was conducted. Alexey Alexeitch would
come into the school-room, slamming the door and blowing his nose.
The trebles and altos extricated themselves noisily from the
school-tables. The tenors and basses, who had been waiting for some
time in the yard, came in, tramping like horses. They all took their
places. Alexey Alexeitch drew himself up, made a sign to enforce
silence, and struck a note with the tuning fork.

"To-to-li-to-tom . . . Do-mi-sol-do!"

"Adagio, adagio. . . . Once more."

After the "Amen" there followed "Lord have mercy upon us" from the
Great Litany. All this had been learned long ago, sung a thousand
times and thoroughly digested, and it was gone through simply as a
formality. It was sung indolently, unconsciously. Alexey Alexeitch
waved his arms calmly and chimed in now in a tenor, now in a bass
voice. It was all slow, there was nothing interesting. . . . But
before the "Cherubim" hymn the whole choir suddenly began blowing
their noses, coughing and zealously turning the pages of their
music. The sacristan turned his back on the choir and with a
mysterious expression on his face began tuning his violin. The
preparations lasted a couple of minutes.

"Take your places. Look at your music carefully. . . . Basses, don't
overdo it . . . rather softly."

Bortnyansky's "Cherubim" hymn, No. 7, was selected. At a given
signal silence prevailed. All eyes were fastened on the music, the
trebles opened their mouths. Alexey Alexeitch softly lowered his
arm.

"Piano . . . piano. . . . You see 'piano' is written there. . . .
More lightly, more lightly."

When they had to sing "piano" an expression of benevolence and
amiability overspread Alexey Alexeitch's face, as though he was
dreaming of a dainty morsel.

"Forte . . . forte! Hold it!"

And when they had to sing "forte" the sacristan's fat face expressed
alarm and even horror.

The "Cherubim" hymn was sung well, so well that the school-children
abandoned their copies and fell to watching the movements of Alexey
Alexeitch. People stood under the windows. The schoolwatchman,
Vassily, came in wearing