The cook looked sternly in my face and asked:
"Who was crying?"
"The lady who was listening, and the other actually ran away because she was frightened."
"You were asleep. You were dreaming," said Smouri, slowly covering his eyes, and after a silence he muttered: "But of course there must be something hidden from me somewhere. I am not so old as all that, and with my character—well, however that may be—"
He spoke to me eloquently for a whole hour.
Imperceptibly I acquired the habit of reading, and took up a book with pleasure. What I read therein was pleasantly different from life, which was becoming harder and harder for me.
Smouri also recreated himself by reading, and often took me from my work.
"Pyeshkov, come and read."
"I have a lot of washing up to do."
"Let Maxim wash up."