One time, after a historic concert given by
Anton Rubinstein, at which Uncle Seryozha and his daughter
had been, he came to take tea with us in Weavers' Row.[13]
[13] Khamsvniki, a street in Moscow.
My father asked him how he had liked the concert.
"Do you remember Himbut, Lyovotchka? Lieutenant
Himbut, who was forester near Yasnaya? I once asked him
what was the happiest moment of his life. Do you know what he
answered?
"'When I was in the cadet corps,' he said, 'they used to take
down my breeches now and again and lay me across a bench and flog
me. They flogged and they flogged; when they stopped, that was the
happiest moment of my life.' Well, it was only during the entr'actes, when
Rubinstein stopped playing, that I really enjoyed myself."
He did not always spare my father.
Once when I was out shooting with a setter near
Pirogovo, I drove in to Uncle Seryozha's to stop the
night.
I do not remember apropos of what, but Uncle Seryozha
averred that Lyovotchka was proud. He said:
"He is always preaching humility and non-resistance, but he is
proud himself.
"Nashenka's [14] sister had a footman called Forna.
When he got drunk, he used to get under the staircase, tuck in his
legs, and lie down. One day they came and told him that the
countess was calling him. 'She can come and find me if she wants
me,' he answered.
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