In the twilight of the evening, Alyosha's face, with his white forehead and black, unblinking eyes, unexpectedly reminded Belyaev of Olga Ivanovna as she had been during the first pages of their romance. And he felt disposed to be friendly to the boy. "Come here, insect," he said; "let me have a closer look at you." The boy jumped off the sofa and skipped up to Belyaev. "Well," began Nikolay Ilyitch, putting a hand on the boy's thin shoulder. "How are you getting on?" "How shall I say! We used to get on a great deal better." "Why?" "It's very simple. Sonia and I used only to learn music and reading, and now they give us French poetry to learn. Have you been shaved lately?" "Yes." "Yes, I see you have. Your beard is shorter. Let me touch it. . . . Does that hurt?" "No." "Why is it that if you pull one hair it hurts, but if you pull a lot at once it doesn't hurt a bit? Ha, ha! And, you know, it's a pity you don't have whiskers. Here ought to be shaved . . . but here at the sides the hair ought to be left. . . ." The boy nestled up to Belyaev and began playing with his watch-chain. "When I go to the high-school," he said, "mother is going to buy me a watch. I shall ask her to buy me a watch-chain like this. . . . Wh-at a lo-ket! Father's got a locket like that, only yours has little bars on it and his has letters. . . . There's mother's portrait in the middle of his. Father has a different sort of chain now, not made with rings, but like ribbon. . . ." "How do you know? Do you see your father?" "I? M'm . . . no . . . I . . ." Alyosha blushed, and in great confusion, feeling caught in a lie, began zealously scratching the locket with his nail. . . . Belyaev looked steadily into his face and asked: "Do you see your father?" "N-no!" "Come, speak frankly, on your honour. . . . I see from your face you are telling a fib. Once you've let a thing slip out it's no good wriggling about it. Tell me, do you see him? Come, as a friend." Alyosha hesitated. "You won't tell mother?" he said. "As though I should!" "On your honour?" "On my honour." "Do you swear?" "Ah, you provoking boy! What do you take me for?" Alyosha looked round him, then with wide-open eyes, whispered to him: "Only, for goodness' sake, don't tell mother. . . . Don't tell any one at all, for it is a secret. I hope to goodness mother won't find out, or we should all catch it--Sonia, and I, and Pelagea . . . . Well, listen. . . Sonia and I see father every Tuesday and Friday. When Pelagea takes us for a walk before dinner we go to the Apfel Restaurant, and there is father waiting for us. . . . He is always sitting in a room apart, where you know there's a marble table and an ash-tray in the shape of a goose without a back. . . ." "What do you do there?"