from behind in the legs, a sure sign of good breeding and pleasant,
easy manners), and then smiled, raised my hand, and softly and
carefully brandished it twice in the air. The girl at once turned away
from me, took a little piece of board out of the cage, began vigorously
scraping it with a knife, and suddenly, without changing her attitude,
uttered the following words: 'This is papa's parrot.... Are you fond of
parrots?' 'I prefer siskins,' I answered, not without some effort. 'I
like siskins, too; but look at him, isn't he pretty? Look, he's not
afraid.' (What surprised me was that I was not afraid.) 'Come closer.
His name's Popka.' I went up, and bent down. 'Isn't he really sweet?'
She turned her face to me; but we were standing so close together, that
she had to throw her head back to get a look at me with her clear eyes.
I gazed at her; her rosy young face was smiling all over in such a
friendly way that I smiled too, and almost laughed aloud with delight.
The door opened; Mr. Ozhogin came in. I promptly went up to him, and
began talking to him very unconstrainedly. I don't know how it was, but
I stayed to dinner, and spent the whole evening with them; and next day
the Ozhogins' footman, an elongated, dull-eyed person, smiled upon me
as a friend of the family when he helped me off with my overcoat.

To find a haven of refuge, to build oneself even a temporary nest, to
feel the comfort of daily intercourse and habits, was a happiness I, a
superfluous man, with no family associations, had never before
experienced. If anything about me had had any resemblance to a flower,
and if the comparison were not so hackneyed, I would venture to say
that my soul blossomed from that day. Everything within me and about me
was suddenly transformed! My whole life was lighted up by love, the
whole of it, down to the paltriest details, like a dark, deserted room
when a light has been brought into it. I went to bed, and got up,
dressed, ate my breakfast, and smoked my pipe--differently from before.