Shura's favourite amusement was a game of "Cossack Robbers" with the boys. Wintertime in the snow, summertime in the sand, they would dig caves, light campfires and rush with blood-curdling whoops about the streets.
One day, towards evening, there was a terrible crash in the hall, the door flew open, and on the threshold stood Shura. But in what a state! Zoya and I jumped up from our chairs. Shura stood before us smeared from head to foot in clay, hair tousled, face glistening with sweat. But we were used to all that. The terrible thing was that the buttons and pockets of his overcoat had been torn out with the cloth, and in their place gaped large jagged holes with tattered edges.
I went cold and stared at him in silence. I had only just bought that overcoat.
Still without saying a word I took the overcoat off and set about cleaning it. Shura stood there crestfallen, but at the same time an expression of obstinate indifference appeared on his face. "Well, so what!" his whole appearance seemed to be saying. He used to get moods like that sometimes, and then it was very difficult to manage him. I did not like to shout, and as I felt that I could not speak to him calmly, I did not give him a further glance, and silently went on putting the overcoat to rights. There was not a sound in the room. About fifteen or twenty minutes went by. They seemed to me like hours.
"Mama, forgive me…I won't do it again," mumbled Shura hurriedly behind my back.
"Forgive him, Mama," echoed Zoya.
"All right," I replied without turning round.
I sat up till late at night repairing the ill-fated coat. When I woke up the next day it was still dark. At the end of my bed stood Shura, waiting apparently for me to open my eyes.
"Mama, forgive me…It will never happen again," he said in a very small and faltering voice. And although they were the same words as yesterday, they were said quite differently—with pain and real repentance.
"Did you talk to Shura about what happened last night?" I asked Zoya when we were left alone in the room. "Yes, I did," she replied after a pause.
"What did you say to him?"
"I…I said that you had to do all the work yourself, that it's hard for you…that you weren't angry but just thinking: What shall we do now that the overcoat is quite spoilt?"
Next: The Chelyuskin