# The Complete Works of Count Tolstoy/Childhood/Chapter 19

XIX.
The Ívins
"Volódya! Volódya! The Ivins!" I cried out when I saw through the window three boys, in blue frogged coats with beaver collars, who, following their young, dandyish tutor, were crossing from the other side of the street toward our house.
The Ivins were some relatives of ours, and almost of the same age with us. Soon after our arrival in Moscow we became acquainted and friendly.
The second Ivin, Serézha, was a swarthy, curly-headed boy, with an upturned, firm nose, very fresh, red lips, which rarely were entirely closed, a somewhat prominent upper row of white teeth, beautiful, dark blue eyes, and an unusually lively countenance. He never smiled, but either looked quite serious, or laughed heartily with a melodious, clear-cut, and exceedingly attractive laughter. His original beauty struck me from the very start. I felt unconquerably attracted by him. It was enough for my happiness to see him, and all the powers of my soul were concentrated upon this desire. When I passed three or four days without seeing him, I grew lonely, and felt sad enough to weep. All my dreams, waking and sleeping, were of him. When I lay down to sleep, I wished that I might dream of him; when I closed my eyes, I saw him before me, and I treasured this vision as my greatest pleasure. I did not dare entrust this feeling to any one in the world, I valued it so.
​Perhaps he was tired of feeling my restless eyes continually directed toward him, or he did not feel any sympathy for me, but he visibly preferred to play and to talk with Volódya, rather than with me. I was, nevertheless, satisfied, wished for nothing, demanded nothing, and was ready to sacrifice everything for him.
In addition to the passionate attraction with which he inspired me, his presence provoked in me, in no less degree, another feeling, — a fear of offending him, or in any way grieving him, and not pleasing him; perhaps, because his face bore a haughty expression, or because, disdaining my own looks, I too much valued the advantages of beauty in others, or, what is more likely, since it is a decided sign of love, I was as much in fear of him as I loved him. When Serézha spoke to me for the first time, I so completely lost myself from such unexpected happiness, that I grew pale, and blushed, and did not know what to answer him. He had a bad habit, when he was thinking of something, of resting his eyes on one object, blinking all the time, and twitching his nose and eyebrows. Everybody found that this habit spoiled his face, but I thought it so charming that I came to do the same, and a few days after my acquaintance with him, grandmother asked me whether my eyes were not hurting me, for I was jerking them like an owl. Not a word was ever said between us in regard to our love, but he felt his power over me, and tyrannically, though unconsciously, made use of it in our childish relations. However much I wished to tell him what there was upon my soul, I was too much afraid of him to attempt confidences, and tried to appear indifferent, and without murmuring submitted to him. At times his influence seemed hard and intolerable to me, but it was not in my power to escape it.
It is sad to recall that refreshing, beautiful feeling of unselfish and limitless love, which died without ebullition and without finding any response.
​It is strange that, when I was a child, I always wanted to be big, and now, since I have ceased being small, I frequently wish I were. How often this desire, not to be like a child, had, in my relations to Serézha, arrested the feeling which was ready to pour forth, and caused me to simulate. I not only did not dare to kiss him, which I frequently wanted to do, to take his hand, to say how glad I was to see him, but did not even dare to call him Serézha, but only Sergyéy: such was the relation established between us. Every expression of sentiment was a proof of childishness, and he who permitted himself such a thing was still a boy. Although we had not yet passed those bitter experiences which lead grown people to be cautious and cold in their relations with each other, we deprived ourselves of the pure enjoyment of a tender, childlike attachment, through the one strange desire to imitate grown people.
I met the Ivins in the antechamber, greeted them, and flew headlong to grandmother; I announced to her that the Ivins had come, with an expression as if this news ought to make her completely happy. Then, without taking my eyes off Serézha, I followed him into the drawing-room and watched all his movements. While grandmother said that he had grown much, and directed her penetrating eyes upon him, I experienced that feeling of terror and hope which the artist must experience when he is waiting for the respected judge to pass a sentence upon his production.
The young tutor of the Ivins, Herr Frost, went, with grandmother's permission, down into the garden with us, seated himself on a green bench, picturesquely crossed his legs, placing between them his cane with a brass knob, and, with the expression of a man who is satisfied with his actions, lighted a cigar.
Herr Frost was a German, but of an entirely different type from our good Karl Ivánovich. In the first place he ​spoke Russian correctly, and French with a bad pronunciation, and enjoyed, particularly among ladies, the reputation of being a very learned gentleman; in the second, he wore red moustaches, a large ruby pin in a black satin cravat, the ends of which were tucked under his suspenders, and light blue pantaloons with changing hues and with foot-straps; in the third, he was young, had a beautiful, self-satisfied expression, and unusually well-developed, muscular legs. It was evident he very much treasured this advantage; he regarded the effect as irresistible on persons of the feminine sex and, no doubt for this reason, tried to place his legs in a most noticeable position, and, whether he was standing or sitting, continually moved his thighs. It was the type of a young Russian German, who wished to be a beau and a Lovelace.
We had a merry time in the garden. The game of robbers went on as nicely as possible; but an incident came very near putting a stop to it. Serézha was the robber. In running after the travellers, he tripped, and in full career struck his knee against a tree with such force that I thought he would break to splinters. Although I was the rural police, and my duty consisted in catching him, I went up to him sympathetically, and asked him whether he had hurt himself very painfully. Serézha was furious, he clenched his fists, stamped his feet, and, in a voice which showed conclusively that he had hurt himself very much, cried out to me:
"What is that? After this, there is no game! Well, why do you not catch me, why do you not catch me?" he repeated several times, looking away at Volódya and the elder Ívin, who represented the travellers and leaped up and down the path; then he suddenly shouted and with loud laughter rushed forward to catch them.
I can't tell how that heroic act struck and captivated me. In spite of his terrible pain, he not only did not ​weep, but he did not even show that he had been hurt, and did not for a minute forget the game.
Soon after that, when Ilínka Grap joined our company and we went up-stairs before dinner, Serézha had occasion to captivate me even more and to impress me with his remarkable manliness and fortitude of character.
Ilínka Grap was the son of a poor foreigner, who had once lived at my grandfather's. He was in some way under obligations to him, and for some reason regarded it as his duty to send his son to us as often as possible. If he thought that our acquaintance would afford his son any honour or pleasure, he was in this respect completely mistaken, because we not only were not friendly with Ilínka, but turned our attention to him only when we wanted to make fun of him. Ilínka was a boy of about thirteen years of age, thin, tall, pale, with a birdlike face, and a good-natured, submissive expression. He was dressed very poorly, but was always so copiously covered with pomatum that we used to assert that on a warm day the pomatum melted on Grap's head and ran under his blouse. When I think of him now, I find that he was a very obliging, quiet, and good boy; but then he appeared to me such a contemptible being that it was not worth while to pity him or even to think of him.
When the game of robbers stopped, we went up-stairs, and began to show off and to brag before each other with all kinds of gymnastic tricks. Ilínka looked at us with a timid smile of wonderment, and when it was proposed that he should do likewise, he declined, saying that he did not have any strength. Serézha was wonderful; he took off his blouse; his face and eyes were red, for he continually laughed and tried new tricks: he jumped over three chairs placed in a row, turned somersaults through the whole length of the room, stood on his head on Tatíschev's dictionaries, which he had placed in the middle of the room in the shape of a pedestal, and did ​such funny tricks with his feet that it was impossible to keep from laughing. After this last performance, he thought for a moment, winked, and suddenly went up to Ilínka with a very serious expression in his face: "Try that; really it is not hard." Noticing that the eyes of all were directed upon him, Grap blushed and with a scarcely audible voice assured us that he was in no way capable of doing it.
"Now, really, why does he not want to do it? Is he a girl? What? He must, by all means, stand on his head!"
And Serézha took his hand.
"By all means, by all means on his head!" we all cried, and surrounded Ilínka, who was perceptibly frightened and pale. We took his hands and pulled him to the dictionaries.
"Let me, I'll do it alone! You will tear my blouse!" cried the unfortunate victim. But these cries of despair only encouraged us more. We were dying with laughter, and the green blouse cracked in all its seams.
Volódya and the elder Ivin bent down his head and placed it on the dictionaries. Serézha and I got hold of the poor boy's thin legs, which he waved in all directions, rolled up his pantaloons to his knees, and with loud laughter stretched his legs in the air. The younger Ívin sustained the equilibrium of his body.
It so happened that after the noisy laughter we all suddenly grew silent, and it was so quiet in the room that we could hear the heavy breathing of poor Grap. That moment I was not entirely convinced that all this was funny and jolly.
"Now he is a fine fellow!" said Serézha, slapping him with his hand.
Ilínka was silent, and in trying to free himself, threw his legs in all directions. During one of these desperate movements, his heel struck Serézha's eye so painfully that ​Serézha at once dropped his legs, put his hand to his eye, from which tears began to flow against his will, and gave Ilínka a blow with all his might. Ilínka was no longer supported by us, and fell to the floor like a lifeless mass. He could only say through tears:
"Why do you torment me so?"
The pitiful figure of poor Ilínka, with his tearful face, dishevelled hair, and tucked-up pantaloons, underneath which could be seen the unblackened boot-legs, struck us forcibly; we were all silent and endeavoured to smile.
Serézha was the first to come to his senses.
"He is an old woman, and a cry baby," he said, lightly touching him with his foot. "It is impossible to play with him. Now, that will do, get up."
"I told you you were a naughty boy," angrily cried Ilínka, and, turning away, sobbed out loud.
"Oh, he strikes with his heels, and then he calls names!" cried Serézha, taking a dictionary in his hands and swinging it over the head of the unfortunate boy, who did not even think of defending himself, but covered his head with his hands.
"Take this, and this! Let us leave him, if he does not know what jokes are. Let us go down-stairs," said Serézha, laughing in an unnatural manner.
I looked sympathetically at the poor fellow, who lay upon the floor, and, hiding his face in a dictionary, wept so much that I thought he would certainly die of the convulsions with which his body was shaking.
"O Sergyéy!" said I to him, "why did you do that?"
"I declare! I did not cry, I hope, when I almost crushed my leg to the bone!"
"Yes, that is so," thought I, " Ilínka is nothing but a cry baby, and Serézha is a brave fellow. Oh, what a brave fellow!"
It did not occur to me that the poor boy was really not crying so much from physical pain as from the thought ​that five boys, whom he, no doubt, liked, had without any reason conspired to hate and persecute him.
I positively am not able to explain the cruelty of my act. How is it I did not go up to him, did not defend, or console him? What had become of the sentiment of compassion which used to make me sob at the sight of a young jackdaw thrown out of its nest, or of a pup that was to be thrown over the fence, or a chicken that the cook-boy took out to kill for the soup?
Is it possible this beautiful sentiment was choked in me through my love for Serézha, and my desire to appear before him just such a brave fellow as he was? This love and desire to appear brave were no enviable qualities, for they produced the only dark spots on the pages of my childhood memories.