XII. THE KEY
We had hardly descended and greeted our guests when luncheon was
announced. Papa was in the highest of spirits since for some
time past he had been winning. He had presented Lubotshka with a
silver tea service, and suddenly remembered, after luncheon, that
he had forgotten a box of bonbons which she was to have too.
"Why send a servant for it? YOU had better go, Koko," he said to
me jestingly. "The keys are in the tray on the table, you know.
Take them, and with the largest one open the second drawer on the
right. There you will find the box of bonbons. Bring it here."
"Shall I get you some cigars as well?" said I, knowing that he
always smoked after luncheon.
"Yes, do; but don't touch anything else."
I found the keys, and was about to carry out my orders, when I
was seized with a desire to know what the smallest of the keys on
the bunch belonged to.
On the table I saw, among many other things, a padlocked
portfolio, and at once felt curious to see if that was what the
key fitted. My experiment was crowned with success. The portfolio
opened and disclosed a number of papers. Curiosity so strongly
urged me also to ascertain what those papers contained that the
voice of conscience was stilled, and I began to read their
contents. . . .
My childish feeling of unlimited respect for my elders,
especially for Papa, was so strong within me that my intellect
involuntarily refused to draw any conclusions from what I had
seen. I felt that Papa was living in a sphere completely apart
from, incomprehensible by, and unattainable for, me, as well as
one that was in every way excellent, and that any attempt on my
part to criticise the secrets of his life would constitute
something like sacrilege.
For this reason, the discovery which I made from Papa's portfolio
left no clear impression upon my mind, but only a dim
consciousness that I had done wrong. I felt ashamed and confused.
The feeling made me eager to shut the portfolio again as quickly
as possible, but it seemed as though on this unlucky day I was
destined to experience every possible kind of adversity. I put
the key back into the padlock and turned it round, but not in the
right direction. Thinking that the portfolio was now locked, I
pulled at the key and, oh horror! found my hand come away with
only the top half of the key in it! In vain did I try to put the
two halves together, and to extract the portion that was sticking
in the padlock. At last I had to resign myself to the dreadful
thought that I had committed a new crime --one which would be
discovered to-day as soon as ever Papa returned to his study!
First of all, Mimi's accusation on the staircase, and then that
one mark, and then this key! Nothing worse could happen now. This
very evening I should be assailed successively by Grandmamma
(because of Mimi's denunciation), by St. Jerome (because of the
solitary mark), and by Papa (because of the matter of this key)--
yes, all in one evening!
"What on earth is to become of me? What have I done?" I exclaimed
as I paced the soft carpet. "Well," I went on with sudden
determination, "what MUST come, MUST--that's all;" and, taking up
the bonbons and the cigars, I ran back to the other part of the
house.
The fatalistic formula with which I had concluded (and which was
one that I often heard Nicola utter during my childhood) always
produced in me, at the more difficult crises of my life, a
momentarily soothing, beneficial effect. Consequently, when I re-
entered the drawing-room, I was in a rather excited, unnatural
mood, yet one that was perfectly cheerful.
