even in passing, I should not have known what grief is. It seems to me that in the smile alone is contained that which is called the beauty of the face: if the smile adds charm to the face, the face is beautiful; if it does not change it, it is common; if it spoils it, it is homely.
Having greeted me, mamma took my head with both her hands, and threw it back, then looked fixedly at me, and said:
"You have been crying to-day?"
I did not answer. She kissed my eyes, and asked in German:
"What were you crying about?"
Whenever she spoke to us in a friendly manner, she spoke in that language, which she had mastered perfectly.
"I had been crying in my dream, mamma," said I, as I recalled the fictitious dream with all its details and involuntarily shuddered at the thought.
Karl Ivánovich confirmed my words, but kept silent about the dream. Having said something about the weather, in which conversation Mimi, too, took part, mamma placed six pieces of sugar on the tray for some especially honoured servants, then arose and walked up to the embroidery-frame which stood near the window.
"Well, go now to papa, children, and tell him to be sure and come to see me before he goes to the threshing-floor."
The music, the counting, and the stern glances began anew, and we went to papa. After passing the room which from grandfather's time had preserved the name of officiating-room, we entered his study.
