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Chapter 10

           EvennowIdon’tknowwhethertherereallywasaNegro,orifweonlydreameditorweretoldabouthim.”

           “Hewasgray,youremember,andhadwhiteteeth,andstoodandlookedatus....”

           “Sónya,doyouremember?”askedNicholas.

           “Yes,yes,Idoremembersomethingtoo,”Sónyaansweredtimidly.

           “YouknowIhaveaskedPapaandMammaaboutthatNegro,”saidNatásha,“andtheysaytherewasnoNegroatall.Butyousee,youremember!”

           “OfcourseIdo,IrememberhisteethasifIhadjustseenthem.”

           “Howstrangeitis!It’sasifitwereadream!Ilikethat.”

           “Anddoyourememberhowwerolledhard-boiledeggsintheballroom,andsuddenlytwooldwomenbeganspinningroundonthecarpet?Wasthatrealornot?Doyourememberwhatfunitwas?”

           “Yes,andyourememberhowPapainhisblueovercoatfiredagunintheporch?”

           Sotheywentthroughtheirmemories,smilingwithpleasure:notthesadmemoriesofoldage,butpoetic,youthfulones—thoseimpressionsofone’smostdistantpastinwhichdreamsandrealitiesblend—andtheylaughedwithquietenjoyment.

           Sónya,asalways,didnotquitekeeppacewiththem,thoughtheysharedthesamereminiscences.

           Muchthattheyrememberedhadslippedfromhermind,andwhatsherecalleddidnotarousethesamepoeticfeelingastheyexperienced.Shesimplyenjoyedtheirpleasureandtriedtofitinwithit.

           SheonlyreallytookpartwhentheyrecalledSónya’sfirstarrival.ShetoldthemhowafraidshehadbeenofNicholasbecausehehadonacordedjacketandhernursehadtoldherthatshe,too,wouldbesewnupwithcords.

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