of feeling and tenderness suddenly came into the honest old man’s voice. Fetyukovitch positively started, as though scenting something, and caught at it instantly.
“Oh, yes, I was a young man then. … I was … well, I was forty-five then, and had only just come here. And I was so sorry for the boy then; I asked myself why shouldn’t I buy him a pound of … a pound of what? I’ve forgotten what it’s called. A pound of what children are very fond of, what is it, what is it?” The doctor began waving his hands again. “It grows on a tree and is gathered and given to everyone. …”
“Apples?”
“Oh, no, no. You have a dozen of apples, not a pound. … No, there are a lot of them, and all little. You put them in the mouth and crack.”
“Nuts?”
“Quite so, nuts, I say so.” The doctor repeated in the calmest way as though he had been at no loss for a word. “And I bought him a pound of nuts, for no one had ever bought the boy a pound of nuts before. And I lifted my finger and said to him, ‘Boy, Gott der Vater .’ He laughed and said, ‘ Gott der Vater .’ … ‘ Gott der Sohn .’ He laughed again and lisped, ‘ Gott der Sohn .’ ‘ Gott der heilige Geist .’ Then he laughed and said as best he could, ‘ Gott der heilige Geist .’ I went away, and two days after I happened to be passing, and he shouted to me of himself, ‘Uncle, Gott der Vater, Gott der Sohn ,’ and he had only forgotten ‘ Gott der heilige Geist .’ But I reminded him of it and I felt very sorry for him again. But he was taken away, and I did not see him again. Twenty-three years passed. I am sitting