We had hardly descended and greeted our guests when luncheon was
announced. Papa was in the highest of spirits since for some time
past he had been winning. He had presented Lubotshka with a silver tea
service, and suddenly remembered, after luncheon, that he had forgotten
a box of bonbons which she was to have too.

"Why send a servant for it? YOU had better go, Koko," he said to me
jestingly. "The keys are in the tray on the table, you know. Take them,
and with the largest one open the second drawer on the right. There you
will find the box of bonbons. Bring it here."

"Shall I get you some cigars as well?" said I, knowing that he always
smoked after luncheon.

"Yes, do; but don't touch anything else."

I found the keys, and was about to carry out my orders, when I was
seized with a desire to know what the smallest of the keys on the bunch
belonged to.

On the table I saw, among many other things, a padlocked portfolio,
and at once felt curious to see if that was what the key fitted. My
experiment was crowned with success. The portfolio opened and disclosed
a number of papers. Curiosity so strongly urged me also to ascertain
what those papers contained that the voice of conscience was stilled,
and I began to read their contents. . . .

My childish feeling of unlimited respect for my elders, especially for
Papa, was so strong within me that my intellect involuntarily refused to
draw any conclusions from what I had seen. I felt that Papa was living