Page:The Kiss and Other Stories by Anton Tchekhoff, 1908.pdf/244

 man, and his teeth ground together. His voice, his face, his glittering, somewhat impudent eyes, showed how deeply he despised the princess, her home, and the old women. In what he had said so awkwardly and rudely, there was nothing really laughable, but he laughed with content, even with pleasure.

“And the school?” he resumed, out of breath with laughter. “Do you remember your attempt to teach the muzhiks' children? You must have taught them nicely, for soon all the boys ran away, and had to be flogged and bribed to go back to your school. And remember how you tried to feed unweaned children out of bottles — with your own hands! — while their mothers worked in the fields! You wandered about the village weeping that there were no children to be had — their mothers had taken them with them to the fields. And then the headman ordered them to leave their children behind for your amusement! Too delightful for words! All fled your bene&ctions as mice flee cats! And why? Not because people are ignorant and thankless as you imagined, but because in all your undertakings — forgive my frankness — there was not one spark of love or mercy. Only a wish to amuse yourself with living dolls! Nothing more! . . . A woman who doesn't know a man from a lapdog should not busy herself with charity. There is a great difference, I assure you, between men and lapdogs!”