Then Yura was seized with a whirlwind of frantic tears, of desperate sobs and mortal anguish. But through his frantic tears he looked at his father to see whether he had guessed it, and when mother came in he started to shout louder in order to divert any suspicion. But he did not go to her arms; he clung more closely to father, so that father had to carry him into his room. But it seemed that he himself did not want to part with Yura. As soon as he carried him out of the room where the guests were he began to kiss him, and he repeated:
“Oh, my dearest! Oh, my dearest!”
And he said to mamma, who walked behind him:
“Just think of the boy!”
Mamma said:
“That is all due to your whist. You were scolding each other so, that the child was frightened.”
Father began to laugh, and answered:
“Yes, he does scold harshly. But Yura, oh, what a dear boy!”
In his room Yura demanded that father himself undress him. “Now, you are getting cranky,” said father. “I don’t know how to do it; let mamma undress you.”
“But you stay here.”