Page:The Kiss and Other Stories by Anton Tchekhoff, 1908.pdf/88

 would be received equally impressively — that is, that my uncle, like a true general, would answer “H-m-m-m!” and extend two of his fingers — lost his self-possession when my uncle smiled at him genially and warmly pressed his hand. He muttered incoherently, coughed, and turned aside.

“He's too delightful for words,” said my uncle, smiling. “Just look at him! He's put on his best manners, and finds himself a very clever man! I like it, I swear to God! What youthful aplomb, what realism in this droll magniloquence! And who is this little boy?” he asked, turning suddenly and catching sight of me.

“That is my Andriushenka,” said my mother, blushing. “My only treasure!”

I shuffled my feet on the gravel and bowed low.

“And a fine little fellow. . . a first-rate boy,” muttered my uncle, taking his hand from his lips and stroking my head. “So you're called Andriushenka. Indeed. . . . A fine little boy! I swear to God! . . . You learn your lessons?”

My mother, boasting and exaggerating, described my progress in learning and manners, and I walked beside my uncle, and, remembering the protocol, never ceased to bow to the ground. My mother hinted that with such remarkable talents I should enter the Cadets' Corpus at the State's expense; and I, still observing the protocol, was about to weep