ment, some with curiosity, some in derision, and some with compassion. Grandmother alone remained indifferent.
"Il ne fallait pas danser, si vous ne savez pas!" was heard the angry voice of papa over my very ear, and, giving me a light push, he took the hand of my lady, made the round with her in the ancient fashion, with the loud approval of the spectators, and brought her back to her seat. The mazurka was over soon after that.
"O Lord! Why dost Thou punish me so severely!"
"Everybody hates me, and will always hate me. My road is barred to everything: to friendship, to love, to honours, — everything is lost! Why did Volódya make signs to me, which everybody could see, but which did not help me? Why did that abominable princess look at my legs? Why did Sónichka — she is a dear, but why did she smile at me then? Why did papa blush and seize my hand? Is it possible he, too, was ashamed of me? Oh, that is terrible! I am sure, if mamma had been here, she would not have blushed for her Nikólenka." And my imagination was transported far, after that sweet image. I recalled the meadow in front of the house, the tall linden-trees of the garden, the clear pond, over which the swallows circled, the azure sky, on which white, transparent clouds hovered, the fragrant ricks of newly mown hay; and many other peaceful, glowing recollections arose in my distracted imagination.
