Two big cats with long faces run after each other across the boulevard, with their tongues out, and their tails in the air. Grisha thinks that he must run too, and runs after the cats.
"Stop!" cries nurse, seizing him roughly by the shoulder. "Where are you off to? Haven't you been told not to be naughty?"
Here there is a nurse sitting holding a tray of oranges. Grisha passes by her, and, without saying anything, takes an orange.
"What are you doing that for?" cries the companion of his travels, slapping his hand and snatching away the orange. "Silly!"
Now Grisha would have liked to pick up a bit of glass that was lying at his feet and gleaming like a lamp, but he is afraid that his hand will be slapped again.
"My respects to you!" Grisha hears suddenly, almost above his ear a loud thick voice, and he sees a tall man with bright buttons.
To his great delight, this man gives nurse his hand, stops, and begins talking to her. The brightness of the sun, the noise of the carriages, the horses, the bright buttons are all so impressively new and not dreadful, that Grisha's soul is filled with a feeling of enjoyment and he begins to laugh.
"Come along! Come along!" he cries to the man with the bright buttons, tugging at his coat-tails.
"Come along where?" asks the man.
"Come along!" Grisha insists.
He wants to say that it would be just as well
