Three days afterwards the majestic portmanteaux were sent to the railway station, and away after them whirled the Privy Councillor. Taking leave of my mother, he wept, and pressed his lips to her hand; but once seated in the carriage his face grew radiant with infantile joy. Smiling, complacent, he seated himself comfortably, waved his hand to my weeping mother, and suddenly turned his eyes on me. On his face appeared a look of extreme astonishment.
“And who is this little boy?” he asked.
My mother, who had assured me that God had sent my uncle for my welfare, was struck dumb by the question. But it had no import for me. I looked at my uncle's smiling face and suddenly felt for him sincere compassion. Unable to contain my feelings, I climbed on the carriage, and warmly embraced my weak and frivolous relative. I looked into his eyes, and wishing to say something pleasant, asked —
“Uncle, did you ever fight in a war?”
“Akh, darling boy!” smiled my uncle, kissing me tenderly. “Dear little boy! I swear to God. All this is so natural, so true to life. I swear to God!”
The carriage started. I gazed after it earnestly, and long continued to hear the farewell exclamation, “I swear to God!”
