Page:Anthology of Modern Slavonic Literature in Prose and Verse by Paul Selver.djvu/71

Rh Saranin's Hand cautiously, bent forward and said, lowering his voice:

"We have come to see you."

It was obvious that his intention was to behave himself tactfully. He fidgeted with his feet on the floor.

From behind his back, Aglaya's mother, a lean and malicious person, pushed forward. She exclaimed shrilly:

"Where is he, where? Show him to me, Aglaya, show me this Pygmalion."

She looked over Saranin's head. She purposely did not notice him. The flowers on her hat waggled strangely. She went straight up to Saranin. He squeaked and hopped on one side.

Aglaya began to cry and said:

"There he is, mama."

"I'm here, mama," squeaked Saranin, and shuffled his feet.

"You villain, what have you done to yourself? Why have you shrivelled up so?"

The servant-girl giggled.

"Don't you giggle at your master, my good girl."

Aglaya reddened.

"Mama, let's go into the drawing-room."

"No; tell me, you villain, for what purpose you've got so small?"

"Now then, mother, wait a bit," the father interrupted her.