Moreover, Ilia was a frail little boy and often suffered from his eyes; the doctor advised that he should not be allowed to cry or to rub his eyes, and, in order to avoid this, he was permitted to have his own way in everything. He was much too intelligent not to understand the advantage that the situation offered and was quick to profit by it. In the face of the least semblance of refusal or reproach, he would begin to rub his eyes and announce in a whining tone that he was going to cry. He was therefore very much spoilt and very capricious; his mother said he was "neurotic"; his sister, who often had differences with him, called him a "little beast." In reality, Ilia was very good-hearted, tender, and loving; he was affectionate, especially with his mother, and could always be managed by an appeal to his feelings. But if he was sensitive to kindness, he was equally so to the least injustice. He could not forgive his great-aunt the predilection which she exhibited on every occasion for Kolia; for instance, at table, she would choose tit-bits for him, and Ilia observed with bitterness that she always reserved the chicken's breast for her favourite. Every time a chicken was served, poor Ilia followed the dish round the table with anxious eyes, and she invariably placed the coveted morsel in his brother's plate. When the day was over, Ilia was put into his little bed and told to "say his prayers and go to sleep." But he did not obey at once: after a thousand merry tricks, his eyelids would begin to close in spite of him; then he would make up his mind to kneel and say his prayers, folding his little hands: "Lord, keep and preserve father, mother, great----" But suddenly remembering the latter's injustice towards him, he would correct himself hastily, "No, not great-aunt, she is too unkind!" and continue, "My sister, my brothers, everybody, and myself, little Ilia." Still he did not go to sleep immediately; a nervous child, he was frightened of being alone; now and then he would lift his heavy lids to see if the maid was still there. Sometimes the latter, thinking he had gone to sleep, would leave the room on tiptoe. Ilia, seeing her no more, would start, raise his head and, stretching his thin neck, send an anxious look around the room, faintly lighted by a night-light. The vacillating flame threw trembling and dancing shadows. Seized with intense terror, he would hide his face in his pillow and scream with all his might. Avdotia Maximovna would then rush to soothe him and soundly rate the servant girl, "Are you not ashamed to leave a noble child all alone?" Ilia would then go on sobbing for a little while, but, reassured after all, would presently sink into deep, childish sleep. CHAPTER III Journey to Slaviansk--The coach attacked by peasants.