Such talk and behaviour had a damping effect on the game and were extremely distasteful, the more so because in one’s secret heart one had to admit that Volodya was right.

I knew myself that not only could I not kill a bird with a stick but that I could not even make it fire. It was just a game. Once you begin arguing like that it becomes equally impossible to ride out for a drive on chairs; and, I thought, Volodya must remember how in the long winter evenings we covered an arm-chair with a shawl to turn it into a carriage. One of us sat in front as the coachman, someone else was a footman, and the girls sat in the middle. Three chairs were the horses – and we were off. And what adventures we used to meet on the way, and how gaily and swiftly those winter evenings passed!… If you only go by what’s real there won’t be any games. And if there are no games, what is left?

9 • SOMETHING IN THE NATURE OF FIRST LOVE

Pretending that she was picking some kind of American fruit off a tree, Lyuba plucked a leaf with a huge caterpillar on it, flung it to the ground in horror, raised her hands and sprang back as though afraid something might rush out of it. Our game stopped and we all dropped down on the ground with our heads together to examine this rare specimen.

I looked over Katya’s shoulder: she was trying to pick up the caterpillar on a leaf she placed in its path.

I had noticed that many girls had a way of twitching their shoulders to bring a low-necked frock that had slipped back into its proper place. And I remembered that this always made Mimi cross. ‘C’est un geste de femme de chambre,’1 she would say. Bending over the caterpillar, Katya did just this, and at the same time the wind lifted the kerchief from her little white neck. Her shoulder was within two inches of my lips. I was no longer looking at the caterpillar: I looked and looked at Katya’s shoulder and kissed it as hard as I could. She did not turn round but I saw that she blushed to her very ears. Volodya, without raising his head, said scornfully:

‘Spoony!’

But my eyes were full of tears.

I never took my eyes off Katya. I had long been used to her fresh fair little face and had always liked it; but now I began to look at it more attentively and I liked it still better.

When we returned to the grown-ups papa to our great delight announced that at mamma’s request our departure had been put off to the following morning.

We rode back beside the wagonette. Volodya and I, trying to outdo one another in horsemanship and daring, caracolled round about. My shadow was longer than before and, judging by it, I fancied I must present the appearance of a rather fine rider; but my self-satisfaction was speedily upset by the following incident. Hoping finally to captivate every one in the carriage, I dropped a little behind; then using my whip and my heels I urged my horse on and at the same time assumed an easy graceful attitude, with the intention of dashing past the side of the carriage where Katya sat. My only doubt was whether to gallop past in silence or to halloo as I did so. But my insufferable pony in spite of all my urging stopped so abruptly when we were level with the carriage horses that I was pitched out of the saddle on to its neck and nearly tumbled off.

10 • WHAT KIND OF MAN WAS MY FATHER?

He was a man of the last century and possessed that indefinable chivalry of character and spirit of enterprise, the self-confidence, amiability and sensuality which were common to the youth of that period. He regarded the young people of our day with a contempt arising partly from an innate pride and partly from a secret feeling of vexation that he could not in our time enjoy either the influence or the success he had had in his own. The two chief passions of his life were cards and women: he had won several million roubles in the course of his life and had had affairs with innumerable women of all classes.

A tall imposing figure, a strange tripping gait, a habit of jerking one shoulder, small perpetually twinkling eyes, a large aquiline nose, slightly crooked lips that set in a rather odd but pleasing way, a speech defect – a kind of lisp – and an entirely bald head: such was my father’s exterior as far back as I can remember him. It was an exterior which not only won him the reputation of being a man à bonnes fortunes1 but made him liked by every one without exception – by people of all sorts and conditions, and especially by those he desired to please.

He could impose his will on all those he came in contact with. Although never a member of the very highest society he had always mixed with these circles and in a way that made him generally esteemed. He understood the exact degree of pride and self-confidence which without causing offence raised a man in the eyes of the world. He was eccentric but not always so; sometimes he made his eccentricity serve instead of good breeding or wealth. Nothing on earth could surprise him: however exalted the circumstances in which he might find himself he always seemed born to them. He was so good at hiding from others and putting away from himself the dark side of life with its fill of the petty vexations and disappointments familiar to every one of us that it was impossible not to envy him. He was a connoisseur in all things conducing to comfort and enjoyment, and knew how to avail himself of them.