"Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Such a big boy!"

"I am coming over to your bed."

Thus, terribly afraid lest they should be heard, they spoke in
whispers and argued in the dark; and the end was that Yura moved over
to nurse's bed, upon her rough, but cosy and warm blanket.

In the morning papa and mamma were very cheerful and Yura pretended
that he believed them and it seemed that he really did believe them.
But that same evening, and perhaps it was another evening, he noticed
his father crying. It happened in the following way: He was passing
his father's study, and the door was half open; he heard a noise and
he looked in quietly--father lay face downward upon his couch and
cried aloud. There was no one else in the room. Yura went away,
turned about in his room and came back--the door was still half open,
no one but father was in the room, and he was still sobbing. If he
cried quietly, Yura could understand it, but he sobbed loudly, he
moaned in a heavy voice and his teeth were gnashing terribly. He lay
there, covering the entire couch, hiding his head under his broad
shoulders, sniffing heavily--and that was beyond his understanding.
And on the table, on the large table covered with pencils, papers and
a wealth of other things, stood the lamp burning with a red flame,
and smoking--a flat, greyish black strip of smoke was coming out and
bending in all directions.

Suddenly father heaved a loud sigh and stirred. Yura walked away
quietly. And then all was the same as ever. No one would have
learned of this; but the image of the enormous, mysterious and