“You see,” he went on, “I play the fool too much. I am forever playing the fool, and cannot help myself, though I know that it is wrong to do so. At home it is often cold, and sometimes there are other troubles as well, and it all makes me depressed. Well, whenever that happens, I indulge a little, and occasionally drink too much. Now, Petinka does not like that; he loses his temper about it, Barbara Alexievna, and scolds me, and reads me lectures. So I want by my gift to show him that I am mending my ways, and beginning to conduct myself better. For a long time past, I have been saving up to buy him a book--yes, for a long time past I have been saving up for it, since it is seldom that I have any money, unless Petinka happens to give me some. He knows that, and, consequently, as soon as ever he perceives the use to which I have put his money, he will understand that it is for his sake alone that I have acted.” My heart ached for the old man. Seeing him looking at me with such anxiety, I made up my mind without delay. “I tell you what,” I said. “Do you give him all the books.” “ALL?” he ejaculated. “ALL the books?” “Yes, all of them.” “As my own gift?” “Yes, as your own gift.” “As my gift alone?” “Yes, as your gift alone.” Surely I had spoken clearly enough, yet the old man seemed hardly to understand me. “Well,” said he after reflection, “that certainly would be splendid--certainly it would be most splendid. But what about yourself, Barbara Alexievna?” “Oh, I shall give your son nothing.” “What?” he cried in dismay. “Are you going to give Petinka nothing--do you WISH to give him nothing?” So put about was the old fellow with what I had said, that he seemed almost ready to renounce his own proposal if only I would give his son something. What a kind heart he had! I hastened to assure him that I should certainly have a gift of some sort ready, since my one wish was to avoid spoiling his pleasure. “Provided that your son is pleased,” I added, “and that you are pleased, I shall be equally pleased, for in my secret heart I shall feel as though I had presented the gift.” This fully reassured the old man. He stopped with us another couple of hours, yet could not sit still for a moment, but kept jumping up from his seat, laughing, cracking jokes with Sasha, bestowing stealthy kisses upon myself, pinching my hands, and making silent grimaces at Anna Thedorovna. At length, she turned him out of the house. In short, his transports of joy exceeded anything that I had yet beheld.