dishevelled, feeling very miserable and terribly happy at the same
time.

The day was rushing fast, like a cat that is chased by a dog. Like
forerunners of the coming great festival, certain messengers appeared
with notes, wonderfully tasty cakes were brought, the dressmaker came
and locked herself in with mamma in the bedroom; then two gentlemen
arrived, then another gentleman, then a lady--evidently the entire
city was in a state of agitation. Yura examined the messengers as
though they were strange people from another world, and walked before
them with an air of importance as the son of the lady whose birthday
was to be celebrated; he met the gentlemen, he escorted the cakes,
and toward midday he was so exhausted that he suddenly started to
despise life. He quarrelled with the nurse and lay down in his bed
face downward in order to have his revenge on her; but he fell asleep
immediately. He awoke with the same feeling of hatred for life and a
desire for revenge, but after having looked at things with his eyes,
which he washed with cold water, he felt that both the world and life
were so fascinating that they were even funny.

When they dressed Yura in a red silk rustling blouse, and he thus
clearly became part of the festival, and he found on the terrace a
long, snow white table glittering with glass dishes, he again
commenced to spin about in the whirlpool of the onrushing events.

"The musicians have arrived! The musicians have arrived!" he cried,
looking for father or mother, or for any one who would treat the
arrival of the musicians with proper seriousness. Father and mother
were sitting in the garden--in the arbour which was thickly
surrounded with wild grapes--maintaining silence; the beautiful head