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But high spirits and tenderness alike vanished completely, and what had passed between us, gave me nothing to build on for the future – it was as though I had dreamed it all.

Sometimes I would scrutinise his clever handsome bright face ... my heart would throb, and my whole being yearn to him ... he would seem to feel what was going on within me, would give me a passing pat on the cheek, and go away, or take up some work, or suddenly freeze all over as only he knew how to freeze, and I shrank into myself at once, and turned cold too.

His rare fits of friendliness to me were never called forth by my silent, but intelligible entreaties: they always occurred unexpectedly.

Thinking over my father's character later, I have come to the conclusion that he had no thoughts to spare for me and for family life; his heart was in other things, and found complete satisfaction elsewhere.

'Take for yourself what you can, and don't be ruled by others; to belong to oneself – the whole savour of life lies in that,' he said to me one day.

Another time, I, as a young democrat, fell to airing my views on liberty (he was 'kind,' as I used to call it, that day; and at such times I could talk to him as I liked).

'Liberty,' he repeated; 'and do you know what can give a man liberty?'

'What?'

'Will, his own will, and it gives power, which is better than liberty. Know how to will, and you will be free, and will lead.'

'My father, before all, and above all, desired to live, and lived... Perhaps he had a presentiment that he would not have long to enjoy the 'savour' of life: he died at forty-two.

I described my evening at the Zasyekins' minutely to my father.

Half attentively, half carelessly, he listened to me, sitting on a garden seat, drawing in the sand with his cane.

Now and then he laughed, shot bright, droll glances at me, and spurred me on with short questions and assents.

At first I could not bring myself even to utter the name of Zinaida, but I could not restrain myself long, and began singing her praises.

My father still laughed; then he grew thoughtful, stretched, and got up.

I remembered that as he came out of the house he had ordered his horse to be saddled.

He was a splendid horseman, and, long before Rarey, had the secret of breaking in the most vicious horses.

'Shall I come with you, father?' I asked.

'No,' he answered, and his face resumed its ordinary expression of friendly indifference. 'Go alone, if you like; and tell the coachman I'm not going.'

He turned his back on me and walked rapidly away. I looked after him; he disappeared through the gates. I saw his hat moving along beside the fence; he went into the Zasyekins'.

He stayed there not more than an hour, but then departed at once for the town, and did not return home till evening.

After dinner I went myself to the Zasyekins'. In the drawing-room I found only the old princess. On seeing me she scratched her head under her cap with a knitting-needle, and suddenly asked me, could I copy a petition for her.

'With pleasure,' I replied, sitting down on the edge of a chair.

'Only mind and make the letters bigger,' observed the princess, handing me a dirty sheet of paper; 'and couldn't you do it to-day, my good sir?'

'Certainly, I will copy it to-day.'

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