The Complete Works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky: Novels, Short Stories and Autobiographical Writings. Федор Достоевский
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done more than was necessary to give complete satisfaction to the poor child to whom she had been sent, she ran away from me gay and content, and her shouts and laughter were soon resounding through all the rooms again, till exhausted and out of breath she threw herself on the sofa to rest and recover. She kept looking at me suspiciously all the evening; most likely I seemed to her very queer and strange. It was evident that she wanted to talk to me, to find out the explanation of something that puzzled her about me; but on this occasion she restrained herself, I don’t know why. As a rule, Katya’s lessons began in the morning. Madame Leotard taught her French. The lessons consisted of repetition of grammar rules and the reading of La Fontaine. She was not taught much, for they could hardly get her to agree to sit still at her books for two hours in the day. She had at last been brought to agree to do so much, by her father’s request and her mother’s commands, and kept to her compact scrupulously because she had given her word. She had rare abilities; she was very quick of understanding. But she had some little peculiarities on that side too; if she did not understand anything she would at once begin thinking about it by herself, and could not endure asking for explanations — she seemed ashamed to do it. I have been told that she would for days at a time be struggling over some problem which she could not solve, and be angry that she could not master it by herself unaided; and only in the last extremity, when quite tired out, she would go to Madame Leotard and ask for her help to solve the problem which had baffled her. It was the same with everything she did. She thought a great deal, though that was not at all apparent at first sight. At the same time she was naive for her age; sometimes she would ask quite a foolish question, while at other times her answers would betray the most far-sighted subtlety and ingenuity.
When at last I was fit to have lessons too, Madame Leotard examined me as to my attainments, and finding that I read very well but wrote very badly, considered it a matter of the first necessity to teach me French.
I made no objections, so one morning I sat down to lessons at the same table with Katya. It happened, as luck would have it, she was particularly dense and inattentive that morning, so much so that Madame Leotard was surprised at her. At one sitting I almost mastered the whole French alphabet, wishing to do my utmost to please Madame Leotard by my diligence. Towards the end of the lesson Madame Leotard was really angry with Katya.
“Look at her!” she said, indicating me. “The child is ill and is having her first lesson, and yet she has done ten times as much as you. Aren’t you ashamed?”
“Does she know more than I do?” Katya asked in astonishment.
“How long did it take you to learn the alphabet?”
“Three lessons.”
“And she has learnt it in one. So she learns three times as quickly as you do, and will soon catch you up.”
Katya pondered a little and turned suddenly fiery red, as she recognised that Madame Leotard’s observation was just. To flush crimson and grow hot with shame was the first thing she did if she failed in anything, if she were vexed or her pride were wounded, or she were caught in some piece of mischief — on almost every occasion, in fact. This time tears almost came into her eyes; but she said nothing, merely looked at me as though she would burn me with her eyes. I guessed at once what was wrong. The poor child’s pride and amour-propre were excessive. When we left Madame Leotard I began to speak, hoping to soften her vexation and to show that I was not to blame for the governess’s words, but Katya remained mute as though she had not heard me.
An hour later she came into the room where I was sitting over a book, thinking all the while of Katya, and feeling upset and frightened at her refusing to talk to me again. She looked at me from under her brows, sat down as usual on the sofa, and for half an hour did not take her eyes off me. At last I could bear it no longer, and glanced at her inquiringly.
“Can you dance?” asked Katya.
“No, I can’t.”
“I can.”
Silence.
“And can you play the piano?”
“No, I can’t do that, either.”
“I can. That’s very difficult to learn.”
I said nothing.
“Madame Leotard says you are cleverer than I am.”
“Madame Leotard is angry with you,” I said.
“And will father be angry too?”
“I don’t know,” I answered.
Silence again; Katya tapped the floor with her little foot in her impatience.
“So you are going to laugh at me because you are quicker at learning than I am?” she asked at last, unable to restrain her annoyance.
“Oh, no, no,” I cried, and I jumped up from my place to rush and hug her.
“And aren’t you ashamed to imagine such a thing and ask about it, princess?” we suddenly heard the voice of Madame Leotard, who had been watching us for the last five minutes and listening to our conversation. “For shame! You are envious of the poor child, and boast to her that you can dance and play the piano. For shame! I shall tell the prince all about it.”
Katya’s cheeks glowed like a fire.
“It’s a bad feeling. You have insulted her by your questions. Her parents were poor people and could not engage teachers for her; she has taught herself because she has a kind good heart. You ought to love her, and you want to quarrel with her. For shame, for shame! Why, she is an orphan. She has no one. You will be boasting next that you are a princess and she is not. I shall leave you alone. Think over what I have said to you, and improve.”
Katya did think for exactly two days. For two days her laughter and shouts were not heard. Waking in the night, I heard her even in her sleep still arguing with Madame Leotard. She actually grew a little thinner during those two days, and there was not such a vivid flush of red on her bright little face. At last on the third day we met downstairs in the big rooms. Katya was on her way from her mother’s room, but seeing me, she stopped and sat not far off, facing me. I waited in terror for what was coming, trembling in every limb.
“Nyetochka, why did they scold me because of you?” she asked at last.
“It was not because of me, Katenka,” I said in haste to defend myself.
“But Madame Leotard said that I had insulted you.”
“No, Katenka, no; you did not insult me.”
Katya shrugged her shoulders to express her perplexity.
“Why is it you are always crying?” she asked after a brief silence.
“I won’t cry if you want me not to,” I answered through my tears.
She shrugged her shoulders again.
“You were always crying before.”
I made no answer.
“Why is it you are living with us?” Katya asked suddenly.
I gazed at her in bewilderment, and something seemed to stab me to the heart.
“Because I am an orphan,” I answered at last, pulling myself together.
“Used you to have a father and mother?”
“Yes.”
“Well, didn’t they love you?”
“No… they did love me,” I answered with an effort.
“Were they poor?”
“Yes.”
“They didn’t each you anything?”
“They taught me to read.”
“Did you have any toys?”
“No.”
“Did you have any cakes?”
“No.”