“She told me to repeat the facts. I repraited them; whereupon she asked me, ‘What is the horizon?’ I answered. While we were busy with the horizon my father was in the yard preparing a shooting excursion. The dogs whined, the horses paced impatiently; the servants filled the tarantass with bags of food — all sorts of good things! Alongside the tarantass waited our two-seated droschky, which was to take my mother and sisters on a birthday visit to Ivanitsky's. All were going somewhere, except myself, and my elder brother, who complained of a bad toothache. You can imagine my envy and boredom.
“‘So . . . what is it we inhale?’ asked Zinotchka, looking out of the window.
“‘Oxygen.’
“‘Yes; and the horizon is the place where, as it seems to us, the earth is joined to the sky.’
“But at this point the tarantass drove away, and after it the droschky. I looked at Zinotchka and saw that she took from her pocket a piece of paper, crushed it nervously, and pressed it to her forehead. When she had done this she started and looked at the clock.
“‘So . . . remember,’ she resumed. ‘Near Naples there is a so-called Dog's Cavern . . .’ — here she again looked at the clock and continued — ‘where, as it seems to us, the earth is joined to the sky.’
"Poor Zinotchka walked up and down the room in
