Papa had been in a particularly good humour ever since Woloda had passed into the University, and came much oftener to dine with Grandmamma. However, I knew from Nicola that he had won a great deal lately. Occasionally, he would come and sit with us in the evening before going to the club. He used to sit down to the piano and bid us group ourselves around him, after which he would beat time with his thin boots (he heels, and never wore them), and make us sing gipsy songs. At such times you should have seen the enthusiasm of his beloved Lubotshka, who adored him!  
Sometimes, again, he would come to the schoolroom and listen with a grave face as I said my lessons; yet by the few words which he would let drop when correcting me, I could see that he knew even less about the subject than I did. Not infrequently, too, he would at us and make secret signs when Grandmamma was beginning to scold us and find fault with us all round. “So much for us children!” he would say. On the whole, however, the impossible upon which my childish imagination had placed him had undergone a certain . I still kissed his large white hand with a certain feeling of love and respect, but I also allowed myself to think about him and to his behaviour until involuntarily thoughts occurred to me which alarmed me by their presence. Never shall I forget one incident in particular which thoughts of this kind, and caused me intense . Late one evening, he entered the drawing-room in his black dress-coat and white waistcoat, to take Woloda (who was still in his bedroom) to a ball. Grandmamma was also in her bedroom, but had given orders that, before setting out, Woloda was to come and say goodbye to her (it was her invariable custom to inspect him before he went to a ball, and to bless him and direct him as to his behaviour). The room where we were was lighted by a lamp. Mimi and Katenka were walking up and down, and Lubotshka was playing Field’s Second (Mamma’s favourite piece) at the piano. Never was there such a family as between Mamma and my sister—not so much in the face or the as in the hands, the walk, the voice, the favourite expressions, and, above all, the way of playing the piano and the whole demeanour at the instrument. Lubotshka always arranged her dress when sitting down just as Mamma had done, as well as turned the leaves like her, tapped her fingers angrily and said “Dear me!&............