“What a delightful place you have here, Klavdia!” said my uncle.  “How charming and lovely it is!  Had I known before that you had such a charming place, nothing would have induced me to go abroad all these years.”

My uncle stooped down rapidly and sniffed at a tulip.  Everything he saw moved him to rapture and excitement, as though he had never been in a garden on a sunny day before.  The queer man moved about as though he were on springs, and chattered incessantly, without allowing mother to utter a single word.  All of a sudden Pobyedimsky came into sight from behind an elder-tree at the turn of the avenue.  His appearance was so unexpected that my uncle positively started and stepped back a pace.  On this occasion my tutor was attired in his best Inverness cape with sleeves, in which, especially back-view, he looked remarkably like a windmill.  He had a solemn and majestic air.  Pressing his hat to his bosom in Spanish style, he took a step towards my uncle and made a bow such as a marquis makes in a melodrama, bending forward, a little to one side.

“I have the honour to present myself to your high excellency,” he said aloud:  “the teacher and instructor of your nephew, formerly a pupil of the veterinary institute, and a nobleman by birth, Pobyedimsky!”

This politeness on the part of my tutor pleased my mother very much.  She gave a smile, and waited in thrilled suspense to hear what clever thing he would say next; but my tutor, expecting his dignified address to be answered with equal dignity—­that is, that my uncle would say “H’m!” like a general and hold out two fingers—­was greatly confused and abashed when the latter laughed genially and shook hands with him.  He muttered something incoherent, cleared his throat, and walked away.

“Come! isn’t that charming?” laughed my uncle.  “Just look! he has made his little flourish and thinks he’s a very clever fellow!  I do like that—­upon my soul I do!  What youthful aplomb, what life in that foolish flourish!  And what boy is this?” he asked, suddenly turning and looking at me.

“That is my Andryushenka,” my mother introduced me, flushing crimson.  “My consolation...”

I made a scrape with my foot on the sand and dropped a low bow.

“A fine fellow... a fine fellow...” muttered my uncle, taking his hand from my lips and stroking me on the head.  “So your name is Andrusha?  Yes, yes....  H’m!... upon my soul!...  Do you learn lessons?”

My mother, exaggerating and embellishing as all mothers do, began to describe my achievements in the sciences and the excellence of my behaviour, and I walked round my uncle and, following the ceremonial laid down for me, I continued making low bows.  Then my mother began throwing out hints that with my remarkable abilities it would not be amiss for me to get a government nomination to the cadet school; but at the point when I was to have burst into tears and begged for my uncle’s protection, my uncle suddenly stopped and flung up his hands in amazement.