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50
SÖNYA KOVALÉVSKY
dismisses me with the words: " Well, be off with you,
and see that you play no more pranks!" It never
enters his head that his poor little daughter has been
undergoing great moral torture during that half-hour.
He would probably be frightened if he could look
into my mind. Naturally, after the expiration of a few
minutes, he forgets all about that disagreeable, childish
episode. And in the mean time I leave his study with a
feeling of such unchildlike pain, of undeserved injury,
as I never experienced afterward save in the very
hardest moments of my life, and that only twice or thrice.
I return to the school-room, quieted and subdued.
The governess is satisfied with the results of her
pedagogical process, because I am so quiet and good
for many days after this, that she cannot sufficiently
praise my conduct; but she would be less satisfied if
she knew what traces this process of my subjugation
have left in my soul.
In general, there runs through all the memories of
my childhood, like a black thread, the conviction that
I was not beloved in the family. In addition to the
remarks of the servants, which I accidentally
overheard, the isolated life which I led with my governess
contributed, in a large measure, to the development
of this sorrowful conviction.
The governess’s lot was not a happy one either.
Homely, lonely, no longer young, parted from
English society, and never thoroughly acclimated in
Russia, she concentrated upon me the whole stock of
affection, the whole hunger for moral ownership, of
which her strong, energetic, unyielding nature was
capable. I really served as the center and goal of all
her thoughts and cares, and gave a meaning to her
life; but her love for me was oppressive, jealous,
exacting, and utterly devoid of tenderness.
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