# The Complete Works of Count Tolstoy/Childhood/Chapter 23

XXIII.
After the Mazurka
At supper, the young man, who had danced with the leading pair, seated himself at our children's table, and directed his especial attention to me, which would have flattered my egotism greatly, if I had been able to have any sensations after the misfortune which had befallen me. But the young man, it seemed, was anxious to make me feel happy: he joked with me, called me a brave fellow, and, when none of the grown people were looking on, poured into my wineglass wine from all kinds of bottles, and insisted that I should drink it. Toward the end of the supper, the servant filled about one-fourth of my glass with champagne from a bottle that was covered with a napkin, but the young man demanded that he should fill it to its brim. He compelled me to gulp it down at one draught, and I felt a gentle warmth permeating my body, and took a special liking to my merry protector, and for some unknown reason laughed out loud.
Suddenly the sounds of "grandfather's" dance were heard in the parlour, and people rose from the table. My friendship for the young man came to an end then and there. He went over to the grown people, and I did not dare to follow him, but went up to listen, with curiosity, to what Madame Valákhin was saying to her daughter.
"Only half an hour longer," Sónichka said, convincingly.
"Really, my angel, it is impossible."
​"Just do it for my sake, please," she said, fondling her.
"Well, will you be happy, if I shall be ill to-morrow?" said Madame Valákhin, smiling carelessly.
"Ah, you have consented! Shall we stay?" called out Sónichka, jumping up with delight.
"What am I to do with you? Go, dance! Here is a cavalier for you," she said, pointing at me.
Sónichka gave me her hand, and we ran into the parlour.
The wine which I had drunk and the presence and merriment of Sónichka caused me completely to forget the unfortunate incident of the mazurka. I did the funniest tricks with my feet: now I imitated a horse, and ran at a quick trot, proudly raising my feet; now I rattled them on one spot, like a wether that is angered at a dog, and all the time laughed from the depth of my soul, not being in the least concerned what impression I produced upon the spectators. Sónichka, too, did not cease laughing: she laughed because we were circling around and holding each other's hands; she laughed at some elderly gentleman, who slowly raised his feet in order to step across a handkerchief, making it appear that it was very hard for him to do; and she nearly died with laughter, when I jumped almost to the ceihng, to show her my agility.
As I passed through grandmother's cabinet, I looked at myself in the glass: my face was perspiring, my hair dishevelled; my tufts stuck in every direction; but the general expression of my face was so happy, good-natured, and healthy, that I was pleased with myself.
"If I were always as I am now," thought I, "I should not fail to please others."
But when I again glanced at the pretty face of my lady, I found in it, in addition to the expression of merriment, health, and carelessness, which had pleased me in my own, so much of refined and gentle beauty, that I ​grew angry at myself: I understood how foolish it was for me to hope that I should be able to direct toward myself the attention of so charming a creature.
I could not hope that my feelings would be reciprocated, and I did not even think of it: my soul was full of happiness as it was. I did not imagine that one could demand any greater happiness than the sentiment of love, which filled all my soul with delight, and that one could desire anything other than that this sentiment should never come to an end. I was satisfied as it was. My heart fluttered like a dove, the blood continually rushed to it, and I felt like weeping.
When we passed through the corridor, near the dark lumber-room under the staircase, I cast a glance at it, and thought: What happiness that would be if it were possible to pass an eternity with her in that dark lumber-room, and if no one knew that we were living there.
"Don't you think we have had a jolly time to-night?" I said in a quiet, quivering voice, and increased my steps, being frightened not so much at what I had said, as at what I was about to say.
"Yes, very!" she answered, turning her head to me with such an open and kind expression that I ceased being afraid.
"Especially after supper. But if you knew how sorry I am (I had intended to say "unhappy") that you are going to leave soon, and that we shall not see each other again!"
"Why should we not see each other?" she said, looking sharply at the tips of her little shoes, and passing her fingers over the trellis by which we were walking. "Every Tuesday and Friday mamma and I drive out to the Tver Boulevard. Don't you ever drive out?"
"I will certainly ask next Tuesday, and if they will not let me, I will run there all alone, without a cap. I know the road well."
​"Do you know what?" suddenly said Sónichka. "I always say 'thou' to the boys that come to see me. Let us speak 'thou' to each other! Dost thou want it?" she added, shaking her little head, and looking straight into my eyes.
We were just entering the parlour, and another lively part of the "grandfather's" dance was at that moment beginning. "I will, with — you," I said, when the music and noise could drown my words.
"With thee, not with you," Sónichka corrected me, and burst out laughing.
The "grandfather" came to an end, and I had not yet succeeded in using a single phrase with "thou," although I kept on composing such as would contain that pronoun several times. I did not have the courage for it. "Dost thou want?" and "Come thou" resounded in my ears, and produced a kind of intoxication: I saw nothing and nobody but Sónichka. I saw how they lifted her locks, pushed them behind her ears, and laid bare parts of her brow and temples which I had not yet seen. I saw her being wrapped in her green shawl so tightly that only the tip of her nose was visible. I noticed that if she had not made a small opening near her mouth with her rosy little fingers, she would certainly have strangled, and I saw how, while descending the staircase with her mother, she rapidly turned around to us, nodded her head, and disappeared behind the door.
Volódya, the Ivins, the young prince, and I, we all were in love with Sónichka and, standing on the staircase, saw her out with our eyes. I do not know whom in particular she greeted with the nod of her head, but at that moment I was firmly convinced that she meant it for me.
When I bade the Ivins good-bye, I very freely, even coldly, spoke with Serézha, and pressed his hand. If he understood that with that day he had lost my love and ​his power over me, he doubtless was sorry for it, though he endeavoured to be as indifferent as possible.
It was the first time in my life that I was false to my love, and for the first time I experienced the pleasure of that sensation. It was a joy for me to exchange my worn-out sentiment of habitual loyalty for the fresh sentiment of love, full of mystery and uncertainty. Besides, to fall in love and cease loving at the same time means to love twice as much as before.