I laughed and sang out loud to myself. How delightful was the world! How blissful to be alive and in the sunshine!
Suddenly Vassili appeared at the end of the path with my cousin, Prince Troubetzkoi. They were coming towards me arm in arm, smoking cigarettes and gazing at me. I felt shy of my loosened hair; I should have liked to jump down and run away, but the swing was flying too high and I could not stop it.
The two men looked at me with strange intent eyes, as no one had ever looked at me before. I felt a hot blush rise to my cheeks like a flame. Obeying a sudden, overmastering impulse I let go the ropes and covered my face with my hands. I heard a cry—did it come from me?—then everything whirled round me.... For an instant I saw the gravel path rise straight in front of me as if to strike me on the forehead. I threw myself back, something seemed to crash into the nape of my neck—and I remember no more.
III
I see the ensuing days as through a vague blue mist. I see myself reclining in an armchair, and my mother sitting beside me with her crochet-work. She is crocheting something of yellow wool. It is strange how the sight of that yellow wool hurts and repels me, but I cannot find words in which to express it, I seem unable to speak; and mother crochets on calmly, with quick white hands. I am conscious of a dull pain in the nape of my neck. Then I see Vassili come in; he is carrying an enormous cage in his hand; and Olga follows him, laughing and radiant. “Here he is! here he is!” cries Vassili triumphantly, putting the cage down beside me; and in it, to my horror, I see a parrot, a huge gray and scarlet creature, twisting a hard black tongue round and round as he clambers about the cage. I cry out in terror: “Why—why do they bring me things that frighten me?” And I burst into tears. Every one gazes at me in amazement; my mother bends tenderly over me: “But, my own darling, yesterday you said you wanted to have a parrot. Vassili has been all the way to Moscow to buy it for you.”
“No, no! it is not true! I never said I wanted a parrot! Take it away! It frightens me. And so does the yellow wool.” I hear myself weeping loudly; then everything is blotted out and vanishes—parrot, Vassili, yellow wool, Olga—nothing remains but my mother's sad and anxious face bending above me, dim and constant as the light of a lamp in a shadowy chapel.
When I was able to come down to breakfast for the first time, my father stood waiting for me, straight and solemn at the foot of the great staircase. He gave me his arm with much ceremony and led me to my place, where flowers lay in fragrant heaps round my plate. Every one embraced and complimented me and I was very happy.
“I feel as if I were a princess!” I cried, clapping my hands; and they all laughed except my father, who answered gravely: