"What do you want, eh?" When I agreed, he sat up in bed without putting his feet to the floor, and ordered me in a tone of authority to bring the trunk to the bed, and place it at his feet. The key hung round his neck with his baptismal cross. Glancing round at the dark corners of the kitchen, he frowned importantly, unfastened the lock, blew on the lid of the trunk as if it had been hot, and at length, raising it, took out several linen garments. The trunk was half-full of chemist's boxes, packets of variously colored tea-paper, and tins which had contained blacking or sardines. "What is it?" "You shall see." He put a foot on each side of the trunk and bent over it, singing softly: "Czaru nebesnui----" I expected to see toys. I had never possessed any myself, and pretended to despise them, but not without a feeling of envy for those who did possess them. I was very pleased to think that Sascha, such a serious character, had toys, although he hid them shamefacedly; but I quite understood his shame. Opening the first box, he drew from it the frame of a pair of spectacles, put them on his nose, and, looking at me sternly, said: "It does not matter about there not being any glasses. This is a special kind of spectacle." "Let me look through them." "They would not suit your eyes. They are for dark eyes, and yours are light," he explained, and began to imitate the mistress scolding; but suddenly he stopped, and looked about the kitchen with an expression of fear. In a blacking tin lay many different kinds of buttons, and he explained to me with pride: "I picked up all these in the street. All by myself! I already have thirty-seven." In the third box was a large brass pin, also found in the street; hobnails, worn-out, broken, and whole; buckles off shoes and slippers; brass door-handles, broken bone cane-heads; girls' fancy combs, 'The Dream Book and Oracle;' and many other things of similar value. When I used to collect rags I could have picked up ten times as many such useless trifles in one month. Sascha's things aroused in me a feeling of disillusion, of agitation, and painful pity for him. But he gazed at every single article with great attention, lovingly stroked them with his fingers, and stuck out his thick lips importantly. His protruding eyes rested on them affectionately and solicitously; but the spectacles made his childish face look comical. "Why have you kept these things?" He flashed a glance at me through the frame of the spectacles, and asked: "Would you like me to give you something?" "No; I don't want anything." He was obviously offended at the refusal and the poor impression his riches had made. He was silent a moment; then he suggested quietly: "Get a towel and wipe them all; they are covered with dust."