IV -- LESSONS

Karl Ivanitch was in a bad temper, This was clear from his contracted
brows, and from the way in which he flung his frockcoat into a drawer,
angrily donned his old dressing-gown again, and made deep dints with
his nails to mark the place in the book of dialogues to which we were
to learn by heart. Woloda began working diligently, but I was too
distracted to do anything at all. For a long while I stared vacantly
at the book; but tears at the thought of the impending separation kept
rushing to my eyes and preventing me from reading a single word. When at
length the time came to repeat the dialogues to Karl (who listened to us
with blinking eyes--a very bad sign), I had no sooner reached the place
where some one asks, "Wo kommen Sie her?" ("Where do you come from?")
and some one else answers him, "Ich komme vom Kaffeehaus" ("I come from
the coffee-house"), than I burst into tears and, for sobbing, could not
pronounce, "Haben Sie die Zeitung nicht gelesen?" ("Have you not read the
newspaper?") at all. Next, when we came to our writing lesson, the tears
kept falling from my eyes and, making a mess on the paper, as though
some one had written on blotting-paper with water, Karl was very
angry. He ordered me to go down upon my knees, declared that it was all
obstinacy and "puppet-comedy playing" (a favourite expression of his)
on my part, threatened me with the ruler, and commanded me to say that
I was sorry. Yet for sobbing and crying I could not get a word out. At
last--conscious, perhaps, that he was unjust--he departed to Nicola's
pantry, and slammed the door behind him. Nevertheless their conversation
there carried to the schoolroom.

"Have you heard that the children are going to Moscow, Nicola?" said