sharply looked after. 'You mind what I say,' he shouted, bursting
without knocking into my room, in muddy boots and with his cap on his
head; 'I won't put up with such goings on! I won't stand your stuck-up
airs! You're not going to impose on me. I'll break your proud spirit.'

And accordingly, one morning he informed me that the decree had gone
forth from Semyon Matveitch that I was not to appear at the dinner-table
for the future without special invitation.... I don't know how all this
would have ended if it had not been for an event which was the final
turning-point of my destiny....

Michel was passionately fond of horses. He took it into his head to
break in a young horse, which went well for a while, then began kicking
and flung him out of the sledge.... He was brought home unconscious,
with a broken arm and bruises on his chest. His father was
panic-stricken; he sent for the best doctors from the town. They did a
great deal for Michel; but he had to lie down for a month. He did not
play cards, the doctor forbade him to talk, and it was awkward for him
to read, holding the book up in one hand all the while. It ended by
Semyon Matveitch sending me in to his son, in my old capacity of reader.

Then followed hours I can never forget! I used to go in to Michel
directly after dinner, and sit at a little round table in the
half-darkened window. He used to be lying down in a little room out of
the drawing-room, at the further end, on a broad leather sofa in the
Empire style, with a gold bas-relief on its high, straight back. The
bas-relief represented a marriage procession among the ancients.
Michel's head, thrown a little back on the pillow, always moved at once,
and his pale face turned towards me: he smiled, his whole face
brightened, he flung back his soft, damp curls, and said to me softly,