“I’ll tell Terenty to-morrow,” thinks the boy.

The children fall asleep thinking of the homeless cobbler, and, in the night, Terenty comes to them, makes the sign of the cross over them, and puts bread under their heads.  And no one sees his love.  It is seen only by the moon which floats in the sky and peeps caressingly through the holes in the wall of the deserted barn.

BOYS

“Volodya’s come!” someone shouted in the yard.

“Master Volodya’s here!” bawled Natalya the cook, running into the dining-room.  “Oh, my goodness!”

The whole Korolyov family, who had been expecting their Volodya from hour to hour, rushed to the windows.  At the front door stood a wide sledge, with three white horses in a cloud of steam.  The sledge was empty, for Volodya was already in the hall, untying his hood with red and chilly fingers.  His school overcoat, his cap, his snowboots, and the hair on his temples were all white with frost, and his whole figure from head to foot diffused such a pleasant, fresh smell of the snow that the very sight of him made one want to shiver and say “brrr!”

His mother and aunt ran to kiss and hug him.  Natalya plumped down at his feet and began pulling off his snowboots, his sisters shrieked with delight, the doors creaked and banged, and Volodya’s father, in his waistcoat and shirt-sleeves, ran out into the hall with scissors in his hand, and cried out in alarm: 

“We were expecting you all yesterday?  Did you come all right?  Had a good journey?  Mercy on us! you might let him say ‘how do you do’ to his father!  I am his father after all!”

“Bow-wow!” barked the huge black dog, Milord, in a deep bass, tapping with his tail on the walls and furniture.

For two minutes there was nothing but a general hubbub of joy.  After the first outburst of delight was over the Korolyovs noticed that there was, besides their Volodya, another small person in the hall, wrapped up in scarves and shawls and white with frost.  He was standing perfectly still in a corner, in the shadow of a big fox-lined overcoat.

“Volodya darling, who is it?” asked his mother, in a whisper.

“Oh!” cried Volodya.  “This is—­let me introduce my friend Lentilov, a schoolfellow in the second class. . . .  I have brought him to stay with us.”

“Delighted to hear it!  You are very welcome,” the father said cordially.  “Excuse me, I’ve been at work without my coat. . . .  Please come in!  Natalya, help Mr. Lentilov off with his things.  Mercy on us, do turn that dog out!  He is unendurable!”

A few minutes later, Volodya and his friend Lentilov, somewhat dazed by their noisy welcome, and still red from the outside cold, were sitting down to tea.  The winter sun, making its way through the snow and the frozen tracery on the window-panes, gleamed on the samovar, and plunged its pure rays in the tea-basin.  The room was warm, and the boys felt as though the warmth and the frost were struggling together with a tingling sensation in their bodies.