Their altercation, conducted in Russian, grew loader and louder, and at last when it reached the shooting stage, lapsed into German, Onkel using epithets peculiar to Munich, and Brendel those distinctive of Leipsic. The dispute had to be settled by the Advisory Committee, who assigned Mitia Spiridonoff to Onkel. From that moment Brendel doubted Mitia’s talent. But this did not trouble Anton Egoritsch. He was convinced of his son’s future fame and wealth, and felt grateful to fortune for sending him such good luck. His whole soul became centred in rearing up the prospective greatness of the Spiridonoff family. He wanted to coerce fate. His scant earnings were all spent on Mitia. Of the two rooms occupied by the family, one was given to Mitia, because he needed pure air and quiet. The rest were crowded in the other room, which served as bedroom, nursery, workroom, dining-room, and parlor. Mitia was well and warmly clad, while the little girls ran around in anything. Mitia’s food was unlike theirs. He had breakfast, and a different piece of meat for his dinner, also milk and sweetmeats. Mitia had a comfortable little bed, a soft coverlet, and clean and whole linen. Mitia was treated like a well-paying boarder in a poor family. Anton Egoritsch was so absorbed in his enthusiastic cultivation of the boy’s talent, and the glory it would bring to the Spiridonoffs that he often forgot the very existence of the other members of his family. Mitia on his part was forced to pay for all this attention. Every step he took was watched, every minute of his time was taken possession of by his father. The old man entrusted him solely to the Conservatory, believing that every second spent there brought his son nearer to the goal. But as soon as Mitia returned from the Conservatory, and had had his dinner, the old man would fondle him with one hand and with the other pass him the violin. “Play a little, dear heart. Mr. Onkel gave you the second movement to study. Play, darling.” And Mitia played. The candles were lighted, he rested for half an hour, drank tea and there! Anton Egoritsch lovingly put his arm around him again and said: “Well, Mitenka, won’t you try this twenty-first exercise? What is it like?--Well? What is the good of wasting time?”