Woloda was giving himself tremendous airs. Probably he was proud of
having ridden the hunter, and so pretended to be very tired. Perhaps,
also, he had too much hard-headedness and too little imagination
fully to enjoy the game of Robinson. It was a game which consisted of
performing various scenes from The Swiss Family Robinson, a book which
we had recently been reading.

"Well, but be a good boy. Why not try and please us this time?" the
girls answered. "You may be Charles or Ernest or the father, whichever
you like best," added Katenka as she tried to raise him from the ground
by pulling at his sleeve.

"No, I'm not going to; it's a tiresome game," said Woloda again, though
smiling as if secretly pleased.

"It would be better to sit at home than not to play at ANYTHING,"
murmured Lubotshka, with tears in her eyes. She was a great weeper.

"Well, go on, then. Only, DON'T cry; I can't stand that sort of thing."

Woloda's condescension did not please us much. On the contrary, his
lazy, tired expression took away all the fun of the game. When we sat
on the ground and imagined that we were sitting in a boat and either
fishing or rowing with all our might, Woloda persisted in sitting with
folded hands or in anything but a fisherman's posture. I made a remark
about it, but he replied that, whether we moved our hands or not, we
should neither gain nor lose ground--certainly not advance at all, and I
was forced to agree with him. Again, when I pretended to go out hunting,
and, with a stick over my shoulder, set off into the wood, Woloda only
lay down on his back with his hands under his head, and said that he