rushed over to Yura and began to kiss him. Then the most beautiful
of the ladies, whose name was Ninochka, took Yura to the swing and
swung him until she threw him down. He hurt his left leg near the
knee very painfully and even stained his little white pants in that
spot, but of course he did not cry, and somehow his pain had quickly
disappeared somewhere. At this time father was leading an important-
looking bald-headed old man in the garden, and he asked Yurochka,

"Did you get hurt?"

But as the old man also smiled and also spoke, Yurochka did not kiss
father and did not even answer him; but suddenly he seemed to have
lost his mind--he commenced to squeal for joy and to run around. If
he had a bell as large as the whole city he would have rung that
bell; but as he had no such bell he climbed the linden tree, which
stood near the terrace, and began to show off. The guests below were
laughing and mamma was shouting, and suddenly the music began to
play, and Yura soon stood in front of the orchestra, spreading his
legs apart and, according to his old but long forgotten habit, put
his finger into his mouth. The sounds seemed to strike at him all at
once; they roared and thundered; they made his legs tingle, and they
shook his jaw. They played so loudly that there was nothing but the
orchestra on the whole earth--everything else had vanished. The
brass ends of some of the trumpets even spread apart and opened wide
from the great roaring; Yura thought that it would be interesting to
make a military helmet out of such a trumpet.

Suddenly Yura grew sad. The music was still roaring, but now it was
somewhere far away, while within him all became quiet, and it was
growing ever more and more quiet. Heaving a deep sigh, Yura looked