PART V
5. CHAPTER V
(continued)
"A boarding-school, ha-ha-ha! A castle in the air," cried Katerina
Ivanovna, her laugh ending in a cough. "No, Rodion Romanovitch, that
dream is over! All have forsaken us! . . . And that general. . . . You
know, Rodion Romanovitch, I threw an inkpot at him--it happened to be
standing in the waiting-room by the paper where you sign your name. I
wrote my name, threw it at him and ran away. Oh, the scoundrels, the
scoundrels! But enough of them, now I'll provide for the children
myself, I won't bow down to anybody! She has had to bear enough for
us!" she pointed to Sonia. "Polenka, how much have you got? Show me!
What, only two farthings! Oh, the mean wretches! They give us nothing,
only run after us, putting their tongues out. There, what is that
blockhead laughing at?" (She pointed to a man in the crowd.) "It's all
because Kolya here is so stupid; I have such a bother with him. What
do you want, Polenka? Tell me in French, /parlez-moi francais/. Why,
I've taught you, you know some phrases. Else how are you to show that
you are of good family, well brought-up children, and not at all like
other organ-grinders? We aren't going to have a Punch and Judy show in
the street, but to sing a genteel song. . . . Ah, yes, . . . What are
we to sing? You keep putting me out, but we . . . you see, we are
standing here, Rodion Romanovitch, to find something to sing and get
money, something Kolya can dance to. . . . For, as you can fancy, our
performance is all impromptu. . . . We must talk it over and rehearse
it all thoroughly, and then we shall go to Nevsky, where there are far
more people of good society, and we shall be noticed at once. Lida
knows 'My Village' only, nothing but 'My Village,' and everyone sings
that. We must sing something far more genteel. . . . Well, have you
thought of anything, Polenka? If only you'd help your mother! My
memory's quite gone, or I should have thought of something. We really
can't sing 'An Hussar.' Ah, let us sing in French, 'Cinq sous,' I have
taught it you, I have taught it you. And as it is in French, people
will see at once that you are children of good family, and that will
be much more touching. . . . You might sing 'Marlborough s'en va-t-en
guerre,' for that's quite a child's song and is sung as a lullaby in
all the aristocratic houses.
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