His smile irritated Kurkov, perhaps because it was such a pitiful, helpless affair.
"Why does he smile?" thought Kurkov in vexation. "Doesn't he believe me? Well, I don't care if he doesn't--I don't own the Government exchequer."
"Why don't you come in sometimes and see us?" he asked Igumnov in a careless, dry manner, as he looked elsewhere.
"I am always meaning to. Of course I'll come in," answered Igumnov in a trembling voice. "What about to-day?"
There rose before him a picture of the cosy dining-room of the Kurkovs, the hospitable hostess, the samovar on the table and the various tasty tit-bits.
"To-day?" asked Kurkov in the same careless, dry voice. "No, we shan't be home to-day. But do step in some day before long. Well, I must turn up this lane. Good-bye!"
And he made haste to cross the wooden walk of the embankment. Igumnov looked after him, and smiled. Slow, incoherent thoughts crept through his brain.
As Kurkov disappeared up the lane Igumnov again approached the granite parapet, and, trembling in cold terror, began slowly and awkwardly to climb over it.
A woman was taking her morning stroll in a lonely suburban street; a boy of four was with her. She was young and smart and she was smiling brightly; she was casting affectionate glances at her son, whose red cheeks beamed with happiness. The boy was bowling a hoop; a large, new, bright yellow hoop. He ran after his hoop awkwardly, laughed uproariously with joy, thrust forward his plump little legs, bare at the knee, and flourished his stick. He needn't have raised his stick so high above his head--but what of that?
What happiness! He had never had a hoop before; how briskly it made him run!
And nothing of this had existed for him before; everything was new to him--the streets in early morning, the merry sun, and the distant din of the city. Everything was new to the boy--and joyous and pure.
A shabbily dressed old man, with coarse hands stood at the street crossing. He pressed close to the wall to let the woman and the boy pass. The old man looked at the boy with dull eyes and smiled stupidly. Confused, sluggish thoughts struggled within his almost bald head.
"A little gentleman!" said he to himself. "Quite a small fellow. And simply bursting with joy. Just look at him cutting his paces!"