and made a sign that we should hand him our copy-books.
He read that motto several times, with various intonations and with an expression of the greatest satisfaction. The motto expressed his innermost thought. Then he gave us a lesson from history, and seated himself at the window. His face was not as stern as before; it expressed the satisfaction of a man who had in a fitting manner avenged the insult which had been offered him.
It was fifteen minutes to one, but Karl Ivánovich did not even think of dismissing us; he continued giving us new lessons. Ennui and appetite grew in the same proportion. With the greatest impatience I followed all the tokens which indicated the nearness of the dinner. There was the peasant woman going with a mop to wash the dishes; there the rattle of the plates was heard in the butler's room; the table was drawn out and chairs were placed; and there Mimi was coming from the garden with Lyúbochka and Kátenka (Kátenka was the twelve-year-old daughter of Mimi), but Fóka was not yet to be seen, servant Fóka, who always came and announced that dinner was served. Only then would we be allowed to throw aside our books and run down, without paying any heed to Karl Ivánovich.
Steps were heard on the staircase, but that was not Fóka. I had studied his walk, and always could recognize the creak of his boots. The door opened, and an entirely unfamiliar figure made its appearance.
