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She never forgot the effect of that unexpected
question on poor Peter Sergejevitsch. His calm
features were contracted as in physical pain, and
he stretched out his hands as if to avert a blow.
Tania felt the intensest pity and shame—it was
almost as if she had boxed his ears with a
slipper.
‘Dear, darling uncle, forgive me! I did’nt
know what I was saying!’ she whispered,
clinging to him, and hiding her flushed face on his
bosom. And her kind-hearted uncle had to
comfort her for her untimely curiosity.
Of course, Tania never again returned to the
forbidden subject, but she talked to him freely
about everything else. She used to be his special
favourite, and they would sit together talking for
hours. When his head was full of some
metaphysical idea, he could neither think nor speak
of anything else; and when he had no other
listeners, he would expound his abstract theories
to Tania, quite forgetting that she was a child.
But this was exactly what she liked, and she
exerted herself to the utmost to understand him,
or at least to pretend that she did.
Though Peter Sergejevitsch had never studied
mathematics properly, he had the deepest veneration
for this science, and had gathered some scraps
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