The game of forfeits went on.
Zinaida sat me down beside her.
She invented all sorts of extraordinary forfeits! She had among other things to represent a 'statue,' and she chose as a pedestal the hideous Nirmatsky, told him to bow down in an arch, and bend his head down on his breast.
The laughter never paused for an instant.
For me, a boy constantly brought up in the seclusion of a dignified manor-house, all this noise and uproar, this unceremonious, almost riotous gaiety, these relations with unknown persons, were simply intoxicating.
My head went round, as though from wine.
I began laughing and talking louder than the others, so much so that the old princess, who was sitting in the next room with some sort of clerk from the Tversky gate, invited by her for consultation on business, positively came in to look at me.
But I felt so happy that I did not mind anything, I didn't care a straw for any one's jeers, or dubious looks.
Zinaida continued to show me a preference, and kept me at her side.
In one forfeit, I had to sit by her, both hidden under one silk handkerchief: I was to tell her my secret.