While Porfiry Vladimirych was holding forth in the entresol,
grandmother Arina Petrovna had gathered the young folks around her
downstairs, and was talking to them, not without the hope of getting
something out of them.
"Well, how are you?" she asked, turned to her eldest grandson, Petenka.
"I'm pretty well, granny. Next month I'll graduate as an officer."
"Really? How many years have you been promising that? Are the
examinations so hard? Or what?"
"At the last examination, granny, he failed in his catechism. The
priest asked him, 'What is God?' and he answered, 'God is Spirit--is
Spirit--and Holy Spirit.'"
"Oh, you poor thing! How is that? Look at those little orphans. I'm
sure even they know that."
"Why, certainly. God is invisible Spirit." Anninka hurried to show off
her knowledge.
"Whom none ever beheld," Lubinka put in.
"Omniscient, most Gracious, Omnipotent, Omnipresent," Anninka continued.
"Whither can I go from Thy spirit and whither can I flee from Thy face?
Should I rise to Heaven, there wouldst Thou be, should I descend to
Hell, there wouldst Thou be."
"I wish you would have answered like that. You would have epaulets by
this time. And how about you, Volodya, what are you going to do?"
Volodya flushed and remained silent.
"Apparently, you go no further than your brother with his 'Spirit--Holy
Spirit,' Ah, children, children! You seem to be so bright and yet
somehow you can't master your studies at all. I might understand if you
had a father who spoiled you. Tell me, how does he treat you now?"
"Still the same old way, granny."
"Does he beat you? Didn't I hear he stopped thrashing you?"
"A little bit, but--the worst is, he pesters us to death."
"I must say, I don't understand. How can a father pester his children?"
"He does though, grandma, awfully. We can't go out without permission,
we can't take a thing. It couldn't be worse."
"Well, then, ask permission. Your tongue wouldn't fall out in the
effort, I imagine."
"Impossible. You just begin to talk to him, then he doesn't let go of
you. 'Don't hurry and wait a while. Gently, gently, take it easy.'
Really, granny, his talk is too tiresome for words."
"Granny, he listens to us on the sly behind our doors. Just the other
day Piotr caught him in the act."
"Oh, you rogues! Well, what did he say?"
"Nothing. I said to him, 'It won't do, daddy, for you to eavesdrop at
our doors. Some day you may get your nose squashed. And all he said
was, 'Well, well, it's nothing, it's nothing. I, my child, am like a
thief in the night, as it says in the Bible.'"
"The other day, granny, he picked up an apple in the orchard, and put
it away in a cupboard. I ate it up. So he hunted and hunted for it, and
cross-examined everybody."
"What do you mean? Has he become a miser?"
"No, he's not exactly stingy, but--how shall I put it? He is just
swamped head over heels in little things. He hides slips of paper, and
he hunts for wind-fallen fruit."
"Every morning he says mass in his study, and later he gives each of us
a little piece of holy wafer, stale as stale can be."
"But once we played a trick on him. We discovered where he keeps the
wafers, made a cut in the bottom of them, took out the pulp, and stuck
butter in."
"Well, I must say you are regular cut-throats."
"My, just imagine his surprise, next day. Wafers with butter!"
"I suppose you got it good and hard afterwards."
"No, not a bit. But he kept spitting all day and muttering to himself,
'The rascals!' Of course we made believe he didn't mean us."
"Let me tell you, granny, he is afraid of you."
"Of me! I'm not a scarecrow to frighten him."
"I'm sure he's scared of you. He thinks you'll put a curse on him. He's
desperately afraid of curses."
Arina Petrovna became lost in thought. At first the idea passed through
her mind: "What if I really should put a curse on him--just take and
curse him?" But the thought was instantly replaced by a more pressing
question, "What is Yudushka doing now? What tricks is he playing
upstairs? He must be up to one of his usual tricks." Finally a happy
idea struck her.
"Volodya," she said, "you, dear heart, are light on your feet. Why
shouldn't you go softly and listen to what's going on up there?"
"Gladly, granny."
Volodya tiptoed toward the doors and disappeared through them.
"What made you come over to us to-day?" Arina Petrovna continued with
her questioning.
"We meant to come a long time ago, grandma, but today Ulita sent a
messenger to say the doctor had been here and uncle was going to die,
if not to-day, then surely to-morrow."
"Tell me, is there any talk among you about the heritage?"
"We keep talking about it the whole day, granny. Papa tells us how
it used to be before grandpa's time. He even remembers Goriushkino,
granny. 'See now,' he says, 'if Auntie Varvara Mikhailovna had no
children, then Goriushkino would be ours. And God knows,' he says, 'who
the children's father is. But let us not judge others. We see a mote in
the eye of our neighbor, but fail to notice a beam in our own. That's
how the world goes, brother.'"
"Nonsense, nonsense. Auntie was married, was she not? Even if there had
been anything before that, the marriage made it all straight."
"That's true, grandma, and each time we go past Goriushkino, he brings
up the same old tale: 'Grandma Natalya Vladimirovna,' he says, 'brought
Goriushkino as a dowry. By all rights it should have stayed in the
family. But your deceased grandfather gave it to sister as a dot. And
what wonderful watermelons,' he says, 'used to grow at Goriushkino!
Twenty pounds each. That's the kind of watermelons that grew there!'"
"Twenty pounds, bosh! I never heard of such melons. Well, and what are
his intentions about Dubrovino?"
"In the same line, granny. Watermelons and muskmelons and other
trifles. But of late he has constantly been asking us, 'What do you
think, children, has uncle Pavel much money?' He has had it all figured
out for a long time, grandma: the amount of redemption loan, and when
the property was mortgaged, and how much debt is paid off. We even saw
the paper on which he made the calculations; and guess what, granny, we
stole it. We nearly drove him crazy with that slip of paper. He'd put
it in a drawer, and we'd match the key and stick it into a holy wafer.
Once he went to take a bath, when lo and behold! he saw the paper lying
on the bath shelf."
"You've a gay life up there."
Volodenka returned and became the center of general attention.
"I couldn't hear a thing," he announced in a whisper, "the only thing I
heard was father mouthing words like 'painless, untarnished, peaceful,'
and uncle shouting, 'Get out of here, you Bloodsucker!'"
"Didn't you hear anything about the will?"
"I think there was something said about it, but I couldn't make it out.
Father shut the door entirely too tight, granny. Only a buzzing came
through. And then suddenly uncle yelled, 'Get--get out!' Well then I
took to my heels and here I am."
"If only the orphans were given----" anxiously thought Arina Petrovna.
"If father gets his hands on it, granny, he'll not give a thing to
anyone," Petenka assured her. "And I have a feeling he's even going to
deprive us of the inheritance."
"Still, he can't take it to the grave with him, can he?"
"No, but he'll think up some scheme. It wasn't for nothing that he had
a talk with the priest not long ago. 'How does the idea of building
a tower of Babel strike you, Father?' he asked. 'Would one need much
money?'"
"Well, he just said that perhaps out of curiosity."
"No, granny, he has some plan in mind. If it isn't for a tower of
Babel, he'll donate the money to the St. Athos monastery; but he'll
make sure we don't get any."
"Will father get a big estate when uncle dies?" asked Volodya,
curiously.
"Well, God alone knows which of them will die first."
"Father is sure he'll outlive uncle. The other day, just as soon as
we reached the boundary of the Dubrovino estate, he took off his cap,
crossed himself, and said, 'Thank God we'll be riding again on our own
land!"'
"He's made arrangements for everything already, granny. He noticed the
woods. 'There,' he says, 'if there were a good landlord, that would be
a ripping fine forest.' Then he looked at the meadows. 'What a meadow!
Just look! Look at all those hay stacks!'"
"Yes, indeed, both the woods and the meadows, everything will be yours,
my darlings," sighed Arina Petrovna. "Goodness! Wasn't that a squeak on
the stairs?"
"Hush, granny, hush! That's he--'like a thief in the night,' listening
behind the doors."
There was a silence, but it proved to be a false alarm. Arina Petrovna
sighed and muttered to herself, "Ah, children, children!"
The boys stared at the orphans, fairly swallowing them with their gaze,
while the little orphans sat in silent envy.
"Did you see Mademoiselle Lotar, cousin?" Petenka started a
conversation.
Anninka and Lubinka exchanged glances as if they had been asked a
question in history or geography.
"In _Fair Helen_ she plays the part of Helen on the stage."
"Oh, yes--Helen--Paris--'Beautiful and young; he set the hearts of the
goddesses aflame--' I know, I know it," cried Lubinka joyfully.
"Exactly. And how she sings 'Cas-ca-ader, ca-as-cader.' It's great."
"The doctor who was just here keeps humming '_Head over heels._'"
"That is Lyadova's song. Wasn't she splendid, cousin? When she died,
nearly two thousand persons followed the hearse. People thought there
would be a revolution."
"Is it about theatres you're chattering?" broke in Arina Petrovna.
"Well, their destiny lies far from theatres, my boys. It leads rather
to the convent."
"Granny, you've set your mind on burying us in a convent," complained
Anninka.
"Come, cousin, let's go to St. Petersburg instead of to a convent.
We'll show you everything to be seen there."
"Their minds should not be occupied with thoughts of pleasure, but
rather with thoughts of God," continued Arina Petrovna sententiously.
"We will teach you everything under the sun. In St. Petersburg there
are lots of girls like you. They walk about swinging their skirts."
"Stop bothering them, for Christ's sake, you teachers," Arina Petrovna
interjected. "Nice things you can teach them."
"I'm going to take them to Khotkov, after Uncle Pavel's death, and
we'll settle down comfortably there."
"So you're still at your blabbing," a voice at the door suddenly broke
in.
Engrossed in conversation nobody had heard Yudushka steal up "like a
thief in the night." He was all in tears, his head was bowed, his face
pale, his hands crossed on his breast, his lips mumbling in prayer.
For a few moments his eyes sought the ikons, then found them and for a
brief while he prayed.
"He's very ill. Ah, how ill he is!" he finally exclaimed, embracing his
mother dear.
"Is he?"
"Very, very ill, dear heart. And do you recollect what a strong fellow
he was?"
"Well, he was never exactly strong. I can't remember that, somehow."
"Ah no, mother dear, don't say that. He was, always. I remember
perfectly when he left the cadets corps how well shaped he was, broad
shouldered, glowing with health. Yes, yes, mother dear, that's how
it is. We're all in God's hands. To-day we're strong, in the best of
health, we want to enjoy life to have a good meal, and tomorrow....
He shrugged his shoulders and assumed deep emotion.
"Did he say anything at least?"
"Very little, dearest. The only thing he said was, 'Good-by, brother.'
And yet, mother dear, he can feel. He feels that he is in a bad way."
"Well, no wonder he feels he is in a bad way when he can hardly catch
his breath."
"No, mother dear, that's not what I mean. I have in mind the inner
vision which is given to the righteous and which allows them to foresee
their death."
"Yes, yes! Didn't he say anything about his will?"
"No, mother. He wanted to say something about it, but I stopped him.
'No,' I said, 'don't talk about that! Whatever you leave me, brother,
out of the kindness of your heart, I shall be satisfied. And even if
you leave me nothing, I'll have mass said for you at my own expense.'
And yet, mother dear, how he wants to live! How he longs for life!"
"Of course, who doesn't want to live?"
"No, mother. Take myself, for example. If it pleased the Lord God to
call me to Himself, I'm ready on the spot."
"All well and good if you go to Heaven, but what if Satan gets you
between his fangs?"
In this vein the talk continued till supper, during supper, and
after supper. Arina Petrovna was very restless. While Yudushka was
expatiating on various subjects, the thought entered her mind at
shorter and shorter intervals, "What if I should really curse him?" But
Yudushka had not the slightest suspicion of the storm raging in his
mother's heart. He had an air of serenity, and continued slowly and
gently to torture his "mother dear" with his endless twaddle.
"I'll curse him! I'll curse him! Curse him!" Arina Petrovna repeated
inwardly, with greater and greater determination.