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washed, seams and flounces were let out, buttons were sewn on, and
ribbons got ready. One dress, Tanya’s, which the English governess
had undertaken, cost Darya Alexandrovna much loss of temper. The
English governess in altering it had made the seams in the wrong
place, had taken up the sleeves too much, and altogether spoilt the
dress. It was so narrow on Tanya’s shoulders that it was quite painful
to look at her. But Marya Philimonovna had the happy thought of
putting in gussets, and adding a little shoulder-cape. The dress was
set right, but there was nearly a quarrel with the English governess.
On the morning, however, all was happily arranged, and towards ten
o’clock—the time at which they had asked the priest to wait for them
for the mass—the children in their new dresses, with beaming faces
stood on the step before the carriage waiting for their mother.
To the carriage, instead of the restive Raven, they had harnessed,
thanks to the representations of Marya Philimonovna, the bailiff ’s
horse, Brownie, and Darya Alexandrovna, delayed by anxiety over her
own attire, came out and got in, dressed in a white muslin gown.
Darya Alexandrovna had done her hair, and dressed with care and
excitement. In the old days she had dressed for her own sake to look
pretty and be admired. Later on, as she got older, dress became more
and more distasteful to her. She saw that she was losing her good looks.
But now she began to feel pleasure and interest in dress again. Now
she did not dress for her own sake, not for the sake of her own beauty,
but simply that as the mother of those exquisite creatures she might
not spoil the general effect. And looking at herself for the last time in
the looking-glass she was satisfied with herself. She looked nice. Not
nice as she would have wished to look nice in old days at a ball, but nice
for the object which she now had in view.
In the church there was no one but the peasants, the servants and
their women-folk. But Darya Alexandrovna saw, or fancied she saw,
the sensation produced by her children and her. The children were not
only beautiful to look at in their smart little dresses, but they were
charming in the way they behaved. Aliosha, it is true, did not stand
quite correctly; he kept turning round, trying to look at his little jacket
from behind; but all the same he was wonderfully sweet. Tanya be-
haved like a grownup person, and looked after the little ones. And the
smallest, Lily, was bewitching in her naive astonishment at everything,
and it was difficult not to smile when, after taking the sacrament, she
said in English, “Please, some more.”
On the way home the children felt that something solemn had
happened, and were very sedate.
Everything went happily at home too; but at lunch Grisha began
whistling, and, what was worse, was disobedient to the English gov-
erness, and was forbidden to have any tart. Darya Alexandrovna
would not have let things go so far on such a day had she been present;
but she had to support the English governess’s authority, and she
upheld her decision that Grisha should have no tart. This rather spoiled
the general good humor. Grisha cried, declaring that Nikolinka had
whistled too, and he was not punished, and that he wasn’t crying for
the tart—he didn’t care—but at being unjustly treated. This was really
too tragic, and Darya Alexandrovna made up her mind to persuade
the English governess to forgive Grisha, and she went to speak to her.
But on the way, as she passed the drawing room, she beheld a scene,
filling her heart with such pleasure that the tears came into her eyes,
and she forgave the delinquent herself.
The culprit was sitting at the window in the corner of the drawing
room; beside him was standing Tanya with a plate. On the pretext of
wanting to give some dinner to her dolls, she had asked the governess’s