"In the first place, please don't tip your chair so," said Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, "and in the second place, know that what ought to be dear to us is work for itself and not the reward. I want you to understand that. If you work and study simply for the sake of receiving the recompense, the work will seem painful; but if you love work, your recompense will come of itself."
And Alekseï Aleksandrovitch remembered that on this very day he had signed one hundred and eighteen different papers with no other support in a most unwelcome task than the feeling of duty.
Serozha's eyes, shining with affection and merriment, grew gloomy, and dropped as his father looked at him. It was the same well-remembered way his father had adopted in his treatment of him, and Serozha had already schooled himself to be hypocritical toward it.
He felt that his father always spoke as if he were addressing some imaginary boy, one of those children found in books, and not in the least like Serozha. And Serozha, when he was with his father, tried to make believe that he was that bookish little boy.
"You understand this, I hope."
"Yes, papa," replied the lad, playing the part of this imaginary little boy.
The lesson consisted of the recitation of several verses of the Gospel and the review of the first part of the Old Testament. The verses from the Gospel Serozha knew fairly well. But, as he was in the midst of so repeating them, Serozha was struck by the appearance of his father's forehead, which made almost a right angle near the temples, and he stumbled and transferred the end of one verse to the next verse which began with the same word. Alekseï Aleksandrovitch concluded that he did not understand the meaning of what he was reciting, and he was vexed.
He frowned, and began to explain what Serozha had heard so many times that he could not help remembering because he understood it too well — just as it was with the concept of the word vdrug, suddenly, being "a circumstance of the mode of action." The child, with
