Page:The Kiss and Other Stories by Anton Tchekhoff, 1908.pdf/80



HE letter received at the beginning of April, 1870, by my widowed mother, Claudia Arkhipovna — my late father was an army lieutenant — came from her brother Ivan, a Privy Councillor in St. Petersburg. “Kidney disease,” ran this letter, “compels me to spend all my summers abroad; but this year I have no ready money to spend on a visit to Marienbad, and it is very likely, dear sister, that I shall spend this summer with you at Kotchnefka ”

When she had read the letter my mother turned pale and trembled. But her expression showed joy as well as grief. She wept, and she smiled. This combat of tears and laughter always reminded me of the hiss and sputter of a lighted candle when some one splashes it with water.

Having read the letter yet again, my mother summoned the whole household; and, her voice broken with emotion, explained that there had been four brothers Gundasoff — the first died a child, the second served in the army, and died also, the third — more shame to him — went on the stage, and the fourth

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