Stroking her hair, he added:
"We must be kind. Be kind always. Keep the life in gray-haired, nice old men. You will never lack money for that."
She kissed his hands; suddenly her glance fell on her father's desk, and she cried:
"Puffie! Puffie! where have you climbed to? There you are, you have crawled on to the desk and done so much mischief!" The ash-colored little dog was on the great desk of the celebrated financier, on the top of a huge pile of papers; he was sitting with his nose against a window pane, growling at crows that were flying past and cawing. In that study, which was so dignified as to be almost solemn, Cara's laughter was heard in silver tones:
"Look, father, how angry he is! He is angry at the crows! Oh, how he sticks his little nose up when one of them flies past. Do you see, father?"
"I see, I see! Never has such a dignified assistant been in charge of my desk. Oh, you little one!"
He put his arm around her and pressed her to his bosom, briefly, but heartily. Through his head passed at that moment the recollection of something unimportant which he had seen on a time: a golden sun-ray, which, flashing from behind clouds, had torn them apart, and disclosed a strip of clear azure beyond. He saw this through a window of a railroad car, mechanically, as we see things to which we are indifferent. Now he remembered it.
"The carriage is ready!" called the servant from the anteroom.
"You are a little giddy-head," said Darvid, looking at the clock.
"I should have left the house a quarter of an hour ago."
She ran to bring his hat, and gave it with a low bow. Stooping quickly she raised a glove which he had dropped.