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RECOLLECTIONS OF CHILDHOOD
87
in the country — but so changed and softened by
distance that their harmonious blending only
heightened the sensation of stillness and repose.
I felt particularly light and cheerful at heart. I
managed to escape for a moment from the watchful
eye of the governess, and flew up-stairs like an arrow
to the tower to see what my sister was doing there.
And what did I behold ?
My sister was lying on the divan with unbound
hair all flooded by the rays of the setting sun, and
sobbing as if her heart would break— sobbing so that
it seemed as if her bosom must burst.
I was terribly frightened, and rushed up to her.
"Aniutotchka, what is the matter with you ?" But
she did not answer, and only waved her hand to me
to signify that I was to go away and leave her in
peace. Of course I only began to beseech her the
more vigorously. She would not reply for a long
time; but at last she rose and said in a weak voice
which seemed to me thoroughly exhausted:
" You won’t understand anyway. I am not crying
over myself, but over all of us. You are still a child
you need not think about serious things, and I was
the same; but that wonderful, that cruel book "— she
pointed to Bulwer’s romance — "has made me look
more deeply into the mystery of life. Then I
understood how visionary is everything for which we strive.
The most brilliant happiness, the most fervent love
—all end in death. And what awaits us afterward,
and whether anything awaits us, we do not know,
and never, never shall know. Oh, this is terrible,
terrible!"
She fell to sobbing again, and buried her head in
the cushions of the divan.
This genuine despair of a sixteen-year-old girl for
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