cannon. You remember, I told you about it before and you said how much you’d like to see it. Well, here, I’ve brought it to you.”
And Kolya hurriedly pulled out of his satchel the little bronze cannon. He hurried, because he was happy himself. Another time he would have waited till the sensation made by Perezvon had passed off, now he hurried on regardless of all consideration. “You are all happy now,” he felt, “so here’s something to make you happier!” He was perfectly enchanted himself.
“I’ve been coveting this thing for a long while; it’s for you, old man, it’s for you. It belonged to Morozov, it was no use to him, he had it from his brother. I swapped a book from father’s bookcase for it, A Kinsman of Muhammad or Salutary Folly , a scandalous book published in Moscow a hundred years ago, before they had any censorship. And Morozov has a taste for such things. He was grateful to me, too. …”