"I wish, young lady, you would keep your mouth shut," remarked the
doctor. Turning to Arina Petrovna, he suggested, "Why not try to talk
to him yourself, mother?"
"No, no. There's no use my talking to him. He doesn't even want to see
me. The other day I stuck my nose into his room, and he snarled, 'Have
you come to see me off to the other world?'"
"I think Ulita is back of it all. She incites him against you."
"She surely does, nobody but she. And then she reports everything to
Porfiry the Bloodsucker. People say he keeps a pair of horses harnessed
all day waiting for the beginning of the agony. And just imagine, the
other day Ulita went so far as to take an inventory of the furniture,
wardrobe, and dishes, so that nothing should be lost, as she said. We
are the thieves, just imagine it."
"Why don't you treat her more severely? Head over heels, you know, head
over heels."
But fate decreed that the doctor should not develop his thought. A
girl, all out of breath, dashed into the room and exclaimed in a fright:
"The master! The master wants the doctor."
CHAPTER II
Not more than ten years had passed since the death of Simple Simon,
but the condition of the various members of the Golovliov family had
so completely changed that not a trace remained of those artificial
ties which had given the family the air of an impregnable stronghold.
This stronghold, erected by the tireless hands of Arina Petrovna, had
crumbled away, but so imperceptibly that she herself was ignorant of
how it had happened, was even involved in the destruction, the leading
spirit in which, of course, had been Porfiry the Bloodsucker.
From an irresponsible, hot-tempered ruler over the Golovliovo estate,
Arina Petrovna had descended into a mere hanger-on in the home of
her younger son, a useless hanger-on, with no voice in the household
management. Her head was bowed, her back bent, the fire in her eyes had
died out, her gait was languid, the vivacity of her movements was gone.
She had taken to knitting to occupy her idleness, but her mind was
always wandering somewhere away from her needles, and the knitting was
a failure. She would knit for a few moments, then her hands would drop
of themselves, her head would fall on the back of her chair, and she
would begin to go over bygones in her mind, until she got drowsy and
dropped off into a senile slumber. Or else she would get up and begin
to pace the rooms, always searching for something; always looking into
corners, like a good housewife hunting for her keys, which she usually
carries about with her and has now misplaced somehow.
The first blow to her authority was not so much the abolition of
serfdom as the preparations preceding it. At first, there were simply
rumors, then came the meetings of landowners and addresses, next
followed provincial committees, and revising commissions. All these
things exhausted and confused her. Arina Petrovna's imagination,
active enough without additional stimuli, conceived numerous absurd
situations. "How am I going to call Agashka?" she'd think. "Perhaps
I'll have to tack a 'Miss' before her name." Or she would see herself
walking about in the empty rooms while the servants were taking it
easy in their quarters and were gorging themselves with all kinds of
food; and when they got tired of gorging she saw them throwing the
remnants under the table. Then she would find herself surprising Yulka
and Feshka in the cellar, devouring everything in sight, like beasts,
and she would itch to reprimand them, but would have to check herself
with the thought, "How dare one say anything to them, now that they are
free? Why one can't even appeal to the court against them!"
However insignificant such trifles may be, a whole fantastic world is
built up of them, which holds you tight and completely paralyzes your
activity. Arina Petrovna somehow suddenly let the reins of government
slip out of her grasp, and for a space of two years did nothing from
morning until night except complain.
"One or the other," she was fond of saying, "gains all or loses all.
But these meetings and addresses and commissions, they're nothing but
trouble."
At that time, just when the committees were in full swing, Vladimir
Mikhailych died. On his deathbed he repudiated Barkov and his
teachings, and died appeased and reconciled to the world. His last
words were:
"I thank my God that He did not suffer me to come into His presence on
an equal footing with the serfs."
These words made a deep impression on his wife's receptive soul, so
that both his death and her fantastic notions about the future laid a
coloring of gloom and despair on the atmosphere of the house. It seemed
as if both the old manor and its inhabitants were getting ready for
death.
From a few complaints that found their way into the letters of Arina
Petrovna, Porfiry Vladimirych's amazingly keen perceptions sensed the
confusion that possessed her mind. Not that Arina Petrovna actually
sermonized and moralized in her letters, but above all, she trusted
in God's help, "which in these faithless times does not abandon even
slaves, far less those who because of their means were the surest prop
and ornament of the church." Yudushka instinctively understood that if
mother dear began to put her hope in God, then there was some flaw in
the fabric of her existence. And he took advantage of the flaw with his
peculiar, subtle skill.
Almost at the very end of the preliminaries to the emancipation, he
visited Golovliovo quite unexpectedly and found Arina Petrovna sunk
into despondency, almost to a point of prostration.
"Well, what news? What do they say in St. Petersburg?" was her first
question, after mutual greetings had been exchanged.
Porfiry cast down his eyes and sat speechless.
"No, you must consider my circumstances," continued Arina Petrovna,
gathering from her son's silence that good news was not to be expected.
"Right now in the maids' room I have about thirty of these creatures.
What shall I do with them? If they remain in my care, what am I going
to feed them on? At present I have a little cabbage, a little potatoes,
some bread, enough of everything; and we manage somehow to make both
ends meet. If the potatoes give out, I order cabbage to be cooked; if
there is no cabbage, cucumbers have to do. But now, if I have to run to
market for everything and pay for everything, and buy and serve, how am
I ever to provide for such a crowd?"
Porfiry gazed into the eyes of his "mother dear" and smiled bitterly as
a sign of sympathy.
"And then, if the government is going to turn them loose, give them
absolute leeway--well, then, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know
what it will come to."
Porfiry smiled as if there were something very funny in "what it was
coming to."
"Don't you laugh. It is a serious matter, so serious that if only the
Lord grants them a little more reason, only then--Here's my case, for
instance. I am by no means an old rag, am I? I must have my bread and
butter, too, mustn't I? How am I to go about getting it? Think of the
bringing-up we received. The only thing we know is how to dance and
sing and receive guests. Then how am I going to get along without those
wretches, I'd like to know. I can't serve meals or cook. I can't do a
thing."
"God is merciful, mother dear."
"He used to be, but not now. When we were good, the Almighty was
merciful to us; when we became wicked, well, we mustn't complain. I'm
beginning to think that the best thing for me is to throw everything to
the dogs. Really, I'll build myself a little hut right next to father's
grave, and that's where I'll spend the rest of my days."
Porfiry Vladimirych pricked up his ears. His mouth began to water.
"And who will manage the estates?" he questioned, carefully throwing
his bait, as it were.
"Why, you boys will have to manage them yourselves. Thank God, I have
provided plenty. I ought not carry the whole burden alone."
Arina Petrovna suddenly stopped and raised her head. Her eyes fell
on Yudushka's simpering, drivelling, oily face, all suffused with a
carnivorous inner glow.
"You seem to be getting ready to bury me," remarked Arina Petrovna
drily. "Isn't it a bit too early, darling? Look out, don't make a
mistake."
Thus the matter ended in nothing definite. But there are discussions
which, once begun, never really come to an end. A few hours later Arina
Petrovna renewed the conversation.
"I'll leave for the Trinity Monastery," she dreamed aloud. "I'll divide
up the estate, buy a little cottage on the grounds and settle there."
But Porfiry Vladimirych, taught by past experience, remained silent
this time.
"Last year, while your deceased father was still alive," continued
Arina Petrovna, "I was sitting alone in my bedroom and suddenly I
thought I heard someone whispering in my ear: 'Go to the Trinity
Monastery. Go to the Trinity.' Three times, mind you. I turned
about--there was nobody in the room. Well, then, I thought that must
have been a sign for me. 'Well,' I said, 'if God is pleased with my
faith, I am ready.' No sooner had I said that than suddenly the room
was filled with such a wonderful fragrance. Of course I immediately
ordered my things packed and by evening I was on my way."
Tears rose in Arina Petrovna's eyes. Yudushka took advantage of this to
kiss his mother's hand, and even made free to put his arm around her
waist.
"Now you are a good girl," he said. "Ah, how good it is, darling, when
one lives in peace with God. You come to God with a prayer, and the
Lord meets you with help. That's how it is, mother dear."
"Wait a minute, I haven't finished. Next day, in the evening I arrived
at the monastery and went straight to the saint's chapel. Evening
service was being held, the choir was singing, candles were burning,
fragrance was wafted from the censers. I simply did not know where I
was--on earth or in Heaven. I went from the service to Father Yon,
and I said to him: 'Well, your Reverence, it was mighty good today at
church.' 'No wonder, madam,' he said, 'Father Avvakum had a vision
today at the evening service. He had just raised his arms to begin
praying when he beheld a light in the cupola and a dove looking down at
him.' Well, from that time, I came to the conclusion, sooner or later
my last days will be spent at Trinity Monastery."
"And who will take care of us? Who will have your children's welfare at
heart? Ah, mamma, mamma!"
"Well, you're not babies any longer, and you'll be able to look after
yourselves. As for me, I'll go to the monastery with Annushka's orphans
and live under the saint's wing. Perhaps the desire will awaken in
one of the girls to serve God. Well, then, the convent is right at
hand. I'll buy myself a little house, plant a little garden, potatoes,
cabbage--there'll be enough of everything for me."
Such idle talk continued for several days, Arina Petrovna making the
boldest plans, withdrawing them and remaking them, and then finally
carrying the matter so far that she could not withdraw again. Within
half a year after Yudushka's visit this was the situation: Arina
Petrovna not at the monastery, nor in a little house built near her
husband's grave. Instead of that she had divided the estate, leaving
only the capital for herself. Porfiry Vladimirych received the better
part and Pavel Vladimirych the worse part.
CHAPTER III
Arina Petrovna remained at Golovliovo. This gave rise, of course, to
a domestic comedy. Yudushka shed tears and succeeded in inducing his
mother dear to manage his household without accountability to him, to
receive the income and to use it at her discretion. "And, dearest,
whatever portion of the income you give me," he added, "I shall be
satisfied with it." Pavel, on the other hand, thanked his mother coldly
("as if he wanted to bite me," were her words), immediately retired
from service ("just so, without his mother's blessing, like a madman,
he escaped to freedom") and settled down at Dubrovino.
From that time on, Arina Petrovna's judgment became somewhat dimmed.
The image of Porfishka the Bloodsucker, whom she had once sized up so
shrewdly, now went, as it were, behind a fog. She seemed no longer to
understand anything except that, despite the division of the estate and
the emancipation of the peasants, she still lived at Golovliovo and
still owed no account to anyone. Here, at her side, lived another son,
but what a difference! While Porfisha had entrusted both himself and
his household into his mother's care, Pavel not only never consulted
her about anything, but even spoke to her through his teeth.
And as her mind became more clouded, her heart warmed more to her
gentle son. Porfiry Vladimirych asked nothing of her. She herself
anticipated his desires. Little by little she became dissatisfied with
the shape of the Golovliovo property. At such and such a place, a
stranger's land jutted into it--it would be well to buy up that piece
of land. In such and such a place it would be fine to have a separate
farm, but there was too little meadow. And here, right next to it,
was a meadow for sale, ah, a fine bit of meadow. Arina Petrovna's
enthusiasm was that of a mother and a woman of affairs who wants her
affectionate son to view her capabilities in all their glory. But
Porfiry Vladimirych withdrew into his shell, impervious to all her
suggestions. In vain did Arina Petrovna tempt him with bargains. To all
her propositions for acquiring a piece of woodland or meadowland, he
invariably answered: "Dear mother, I am perfectly satisfied with what
you granted me in your kindness."
These answers only spurred Arina Petrovna on. Carried away by her
household zeal, and also by indignation against the "scoundrel
Pavlusha," who lived beside her but refused to have anything to do
with her, Arina Petrovna lost sight of her actual relationship to the
estate. Her former fever for acquiring possessed her with renewed
strength, though now it was no longer aggrandizement for her own sake
but for the sake of her beloved son. The Golovliovo estate grew,
rounded out, and flourished.
And at the very moment when Arina Petrovna's capital had dwindled
to a point at which it was almost impossible for her to live on the
interest, Yudushka sent her a most respectful letter along with an
enormous package of blank forms, which were to guide her in the future
in the making out of the annual balance sheet. Beside the principal
items of the household expenses were listed raspberries, gooseberries,
mushrooms, etc. There was a special account for every item, on the
following plan:
Number of raspberry bushes, year 18--, - - - - - - - - pounds
" " bushes planted this year - - - - - - - - - - "
Quantity of berries picked - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "
Out of this total you, mother dear, used for
yourself - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "
Preserves used, or to be used, in the household of
His Excellency Porfiry Vladimirych Golovliov - - - - "
Given to boy in reward for good behavior - - - - - - - "
Sold to the common people for a tidbit - - - - - - - - "
Decayed because of absence of buyers and for
other reasons - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "
------
NOTE.--In case the crop in the year in which the account is
taken is less than that of the previous year, the reasons therefor,
like drought, rain, hail, and so forth, should be indicated.
Arina Petrovna fairly groaned. First of all, she was shocked at
Yudushka's avarice. She had never heard of berries forming an item in
the account of an estate, and he seemed to emphasize that item most.
Secondly, she fully realized that the blanks were a constitution
limiting her power hitherto autocratic.
After a long controversial correspondence between them, Arina Petrovna,
humiliated and indignant, moved to Dubrovino, and Porfiry Vladimirych
subsequently retired from office and settled at Golovliovo.
From that time on the old woman spent many wretched days in enforced
idleness. Pavel Vladimirych was particularly offensive in his treatment
of his mother. He received her in what he thought was quite a decent
manner, that is, he promised to provide food and drink for both her
and his orphan nieces, on two conditions, however, first, they were
not to enter the entresol which he occupied; secondly, they were not
to interfere in the management of the household. The second condition
was particularly galling to Arina Petrovna. The management of the house
was in the hands of the housekeeper Ulita, a viperous woman who had
been found in secret communication with Yudushka and Kirushka, the late
master's butler, a man who knew nothing about farming and whom Pavel
Vladimirych almost feared. Both of them stole relentlessly. How often
did Arina Petrovna's heart ache when she saw the house being ransacked;
how she did long to warn her son and open his eyes to the theft of
tea, sugar, butter! Loads of things were wasted, and Ulita, not in the
least shamed by the presence of the old mistress, repeatedly hid whole
handfuls of sugar in her pocket right before her eyes. Arina Petrovna
saw it all, but was forced to remain a silent witness to the plunder.
No sooner would she open her mouth to make some remark, than Pavel
Vladimirych would instantly check her, saying:
"Mother, there should be only one person to manage a house. I'm not
alone in that opinion, everybody says so. I know my orders are foolish.
Never mind, let them be foolish. Your orders are wise. Let them be
wise. Wise you are, very wise, still Yudushka left you without house or
home, to shift for yourself."
The last straw was the awful discovery that Pavel Vladimirych drank.
The craving had come from the loneliness of life in the country and had
crept upon him stealthily, until finally it possessed him completely,
and he was a doomed man. When his mother first came to live in the
house, he seemed to have some scruples about drinking. He would come
down from the entresol and talk to his mother quite often. She noticed
that his speech was strangely incoherent but for a long time attributed
it to his stupidity. She did not enjoy his visits. The chats with him
oppressed her extremely. In fact he always seemed to be grumbling
foolishly. Either there had been a drought for many weeks, or an
overwhelming downpour of rain, or tree beetles had overrun the garden
and ruined the trees, or moles had made their appearance and dug up
the whole field. All this afforded an endless source for grumbling. He
would come down from the entresol, seat himself opposite his mother and
begin:
"There are clouds all around. Is Golovliovo far from here? The
Bloodsucker had a shower yesterday and we don't get a single drop. The
clouds wander about, all around here. If there were only a drop of rain
for us!"
Or else he would say:
"Have you ever seen such a flood? The rye has just begun to flower and
it comes pouring down. Half of the hay is rotten already, and the rain
still spouts and spurts. Is Golovliovo far from here? The Bloodsucker
has long since gathered in his crops, and here we're stuck. We'll have
to feed our cattle on rotten hay this winter."
Arina Petrovna listened in silence to his stupid complaints, but at
times her patience gave way and she said:
"Well, keep on sitting there with your arms folded."
Instantly Pavel Vladimirych would flare up.
"What would you advise me to do? Transfer the rain to Golovliovo?"
"I'm not talking about the rain, but in general."
"No 'in general,' please. Why don't you tell me straight out what you
think I should do? Shall I change the climate? There's Golovliovo. When
Golovliovo needs rain, it rains. When Golovliovo doesn't need rain,
then it doesn't rain. And everything grows there, while here, the very
opposite. Well, we'll see what you'll have to say when there isn't
anything to eat."
"Then such will be the Lord's will."
"All right, then such will be the Lord's will. But you say 'in general'
as if that were an explanation."
Sometimes Pavel even found his property a burden.
"Why in the world did I get the Dubrovino estate?" he would complain.
"What good is it?"
"What's the matter with Dubrovino? The soil is good, there's plenty of
everything. What's got into your head of a sudden?"
"This, that nowadays there's no use having any estate. Money, that's
the thing. You take your money, put it in your pocket and off you go.
But real estate----"
"What sort of an age have we come to when there's no use owning real
estate?"
"Yes, this is a peculiar age. You don't read the newspapers, but I do.
Nowadays the lawyers are everywhere--you can imagine the rest. If a
lawyer finds out that you have real estate, then he begins to circle
around you."
"Well, how is he going to get at you when you have the proper deeds to
the property?"
"Deeds or no deeds, they'll get you. Porfiry the Bloodsucker may hire a
lawyer and serve me with summons after summons."
"What are you talking about! We're not living in a lawless country."
"That's just why they serve summonses on you. If the country were
lawless, they would take it away without a summons. There's my friend
Gorlopiatov, for instance. His uncle died and he, fool that he was,
up and accepted the inheritance. The inheritance proved worthless,
but the debts figured up to the thousands, the bills of exchange were
all false. Now they've been suing him for three years on end. First,
they took his uncle's estate. Then they even sold his own property at
auction. That's what real estate is."
"Can there possibly be a law like that?"
"If there were no such law, they couldn't have sold it. There's a law
for everything. A man without a conscience finds a law to back him in
everything. But there are no laws for a man with a conscience. Try and
look for them in the books."
Arina Petrovna always let Pavel have his way in these controversies.
Many a time she could hardly refrain from shouting, "Out of my sight,
you scoundrel." But she would think it over and keep silent. Sometimes
she would only murmur to herself:
"Goodness, whom do these monsters take after? One is a bloodsucker, the
other is a lunatic. What did I hoard and save for? For what did I deny
myself sleep and food? For whom did I do all that?"
The more completely drink took possession of Pavel Vladimirych, the
more fantastic and annoying his conversations became. Finally Arina
Petrovna noticed there was something wrong. A whole flask of vodka
would be put away in the dining-room cupboard in the morning, and by
dinner time there wouldn't be a drop left. Or she would be sitting in
the parlor and would hear a mysterious creaking in the dining-room
near the cupboard. She would call out, "Who's there?" and would hear
footsteps quickly but carefully withdrawing toward the entresol.
"Goodness, can it be that he drinks?" she once asked Ulita.
"I shouldn't deny it," answered the latter, with a vicious grin.
When Pavel Vladimirych saw that his mother had discovered the truth, he
lost all restraint. One morning Arina Petrovna found the cupboard had
disappeared from the dining-room, and when she asked where it had gone
to, Ulita told her she had been ordered to carry it to the entresol,
because it would be more comfortable for the master to drink there.
In the entresol, the decanters of vodka followed one after the other
with amazing rapidity. Shut up alone by himself, Pavel Vladimirych
began to hate human society. He created a peculiar fantastic reality
for himself, spinning out a long-winded nonsensical romance, in
which the main heroes were himself and the Bloodsucker. He was not
fully conscious of how, deeply rooted his hatred for Porfiry was.
It gnawed at his bones and entrails every minute of his life. The
loathed image of his brother stood lifelike before his eyes, and
Yudushka's lachrymose, hypocritical twaddle rang in his ears. In his
talk there lurked a cold, almost abstract hatred of every living thing
that did not conform to the traditional code laid down by hypocrisy.
Pavel Vladimirych drank and recalled memories, all the insults and
humiliations he had had to suffer because of Yudushka's claims to
supremacy in the house; the division of the estate in particular; how
he had calculated every kopek and compared every scrap of land. Oh,
how he detested him! Entire dramas were enacted in his imagination,
heated by alcohol. In these dramas he avenged every offense that he had
sustained, and not Yudushka but he himself was always the aggressor. He
saw himself the winner of two hundred thousand, and informed Yudushka
of his good luck in a long scene, making his brother's face writhe with
envy. At other times he imagined his grandfather had died and left a
million to him, while nothing at all to Porfiry. He also discovered a
means of becoming invisible and when unseen he played wicked tricks on
Porfiry to make him groan in agony. His genius for inventing tricks
was inexhaustible, and for a long time his idiotic laughter would ring
through the entresol, much to the delight of Ulita, who would hurry to
inform Porfiry Vladimirych of his brother's doings.
He detested Yudushka and at the same time had a superstitious fear of
him. He imagined his eyes discharged a venom of magic effect, that
his voice crept, snake-like, into the soul and paralyzed the will. He
absolutely refused to meet him, and when the Bloodsucker occasionally
visited Dubrovino to kiss the hand of his mother dear, Pavel
Vladimirych would lock himself into the entresol and remain imprisoned
there until he left.
So the days passed until Pavel Vladimirych found himself face to face
with a deadly malady.
CHAPTER IV
The doctor stayed at the house overnight merely for the sake of form,
and departed for the city early the next day. On taking leave he said
frankly that the patient had no more than two days to live, and it
was already too late to talk about any "arrangements" since Pavel
Vladimirych could not even sign his name properly.
"He'll sign the document wrong and then you will have a lawsuit on your
hands," he added. "Of course, Yudushka respects his mother very highly,
but, at that, he'll commence proceedings to prove fraud, and should
'mother dear' be sent to distant regions, the only thing he'll do is to
have a mass said for the welfare of the travellers."
All morning Arina Petrovna walked about as if in a dream. She tried to
say her prayers. Perhaps God would suggest something, but prayers would
not enter her head. Even her tongue refused to obey. There was utter
confusion in her mind. Fragments of prayers mingled with incoherent
thoughts and vague impressions.
Finally she sat down and sobbed. The tears flowed from her dull eyes
over her aged shrivelled cheeks, lingered in the hollows of her
wrinkles, and dribbled down on the greasy collar of her old calico
waist. Her tears spoke of bitterness, despair, and feeble, but stubborn
resistance. Her age, her senile ailments, and the hopelessness of
the situation, all seemed to point to death as the only way out. At
the same time memories of the past intervened, memories of a life of
power, prosperity and unrestrained freedom, and these reminiscences
plunged their sting into her soul, dragging her down to earth. "To
die!" passed through her mind, but the thought was instantly supplanted
by a dogged desire to live. She recalled neither Yudushka nor her dying
son. It was as if both had ceased to exist for her. She thought of no
one, was indignant at no one, accused no one, even forgot whether she
had any capital or no and whether it was sufficient to provide for her
old age. A deadly anguish seized her entire being. Her tears had come
from a deep source. Drop by drop they had been accumulating since the
moment when she left Golovliovo and settled at Dubrovino. She was quite
prepared for everything that awaited her. She had expected and foreseen
everything, but somehow it had never come to her with such vividness
that her fears would be realized. And now this very end had arrived,
an end full of anguish and hopeless lonesomeness. All her life long
she had been busy building up, she had worn herself to the bone for
something, and now she felt as if she had wasted her life on a phantom.
All her life the word "family" had never left her lips. In the name
of "family" she had punished some and rewarded others. In the name of
"family" she had subjected herself to privations, torments, she had
crippled her whole life; and suddenly she discovered that "family" was
exactly what she did not have.
"Good Lord! Can it possibly be the same everywhere?" was the thought
that kept revolving in her mind.
She sat with her head resting on her hand and her face soaked with
tears turned to the rising sun, as if to bid it, "Look!" She neither
groaned nor cursed. She simply sobbed as if choked by her tears. At the
same time the thought seared her soul, "There is no one! No one! No
one!"
But now her eyes were drained of tears. She washed her face and
wandered without purpose into the dining-room. Here she was assailed by
the girls with new complaints which seemed at this time particularly
importunate.
"What is going to come of it, grandma? Is it possible that we shall be
left just so, without anything?" grumbled Anninka.
"How silly uncle is," Lubinka chimed in.
About midday, Arina Petrovna decided to go to her dying son. Stepping
softly she climbed the stairs and groped in the dark till she found the
door leading into the rooms. The entresol was buried in deepest gloom.
The windows were darkened by green shades, through which the light
could scarcely filter. A sickening mixture of odors pervaded the room,
which had not been ventilated for a long while. There was the smell of
berries, plaster, oil from the image-lamp, and those peculiar odors
which bespeak the presence of sickness and death. There were only two
rooms. In the first one sat Ulita, cleaning berries. The flies swarmed
about the heap of gooseberries and impudently attacked her nose and
lips, and she would keep driving them off in exasperation. Through the
half-closed door of the adjoining room came the sound of incessant
coughing which every now and then ended in painful expectoration. Arina
Petrovna stopped in an uncertain pose, searching the gloom and waiting
for the course of action that Ulita would take in view of her arrival.
But Ulita never moved an eyelash, entirely confident that every attempt
to influence the sick man would be fruitless. Her lips merely twitched
in resentment, and Arina Petrovna heard the word "hag" pronounced under
her breath.
"You had better go down, my dear," said Arina Petrovna, turning to
Ulita.
"Where did you get that idea from?" snapped the latter.
"I have to talk to Pavel Vladimirych. Go down."
"Excuse me, madam, how can I leave the master? What if something should
happen? There's no one to serve him and attend to him."
"What's the matter?" a hollow voice called from the bedroom.
"Order Ulita to go downstairs, my friend. I have matters to talk over
with you."
This time Arina Petrovna pressed her point so persistently that she was
victorious. She crossed herself and entered the room. The patient's
bed stood near the inner wall far from the window. He lay on his back,
covered with a white blanket, smoking a cigarette, though almost half
unconscious. Notwithstanding the smoke, the flies pestered him with
peculiar persistence, so that he had continually to pass his hand over
his face. His arms were so weak, so bare of muscle, that they showed
the bones, of almost equal thickness from wrist to shoulder, in clear
outline. His head nestled despondently in the pillow. His whole body
and face burned in a dry fever. His large round eyes were sunken and
gazed aimlessly about, as if looking for something. The lines of his
nose had grown longer and sharper. His mouth was half open. He had
stopped coughing, but he breathed with such difficulty that it seemed
as if all his vital energy were concentrated in his chest.
"Well, how do you feel to-day?" asked Arina Petrovna, sinking into the
armchair at his feet.
"So--so--to-morrow--that is, to-day--when was the doctor here?"
"He was here to-day."
"Well, then, to-morrow----"
The patient fumbled as if struggling to recall a word.
"You'll be able to get up?" prompted Arina Petrovna. "God grant it, my
friend, God grant it."
They both remained silent for a moment. Arina Petrovna found it very
difficult to open a conversation when she was face to face with Pavel
Vladimirych.
"Yudushka--is he alive?" finally asked the sick man himself.
"Nothing is the matter with him. He lives and prospers."
"I bet he is thinking, 'Now brother Pavel is going to die--and with
God's help the estate will come to me.'"
"We'll all die, some day--and after every one of us, the estates will
go to the lawful heirs."
"Only not to the Bloodsucker! I'll throw it to the dogs, but he shan't
have it."
The situation was turning out excellently. Pavel Vladimirych himself
was leading the conversation. Arina Petrovna did not fail to take
advantage of the opportunity.
"You ought to consider that, my friend," she said, as if by the way,
not looking at her son and examining the color of her hands as if they
were the main object of her interest.
"What do you mean by 'that'?"
"Well, I mean, if you don't wish that the estate should go to your
brother."
The patient was silent. Only his eyes widened unnaturally and his face
flushed more and more.
"And also, my friend, you ought to take into consideration the fact
that you have orphaned nieces--and what sort of capital have they? Then
there is your mother," continued Arina Petrovna.
"You've managed to give everything away to Yudushka!"
"Whatever may have happened, I know that I myself am to blame. But it
wasn't such a crime after all. I thought 'he is my son.' At any rate,
it isn't kind of you to remember that against your mother."
Silence followed.
"Well, why don't you say something?"
"And how soon do you expect to bury me?"
"Oh, don't talk like that. All Christians----Everybody doesn't die
right away, still in general----"
"There you go--'in general!' Always your 'in general!' You think I
don't see."
"See what, my boy?"
"I see you take me for a fool. Well, if I am a fool, let me remain a
fool. Why do you come to a fool? Don't come, don't worry about me."
"I'm not worrying. But in general there is a term set to everybody's
life."
"Then wait for my term."
Arina Petrovna lowered her head and meditated. She saw clearly that her
case was almost a failure, but she was so tortured that nothing could
convince her of the fruitlessness of further attempts to influence her
son.
"I don't know why you hate me," she declared finally.
"Not at all--on the contrary I--not at all. In fact I--why, the
idea--you brought us all up--so impartially."
He spoke in jerks and gasps. A broken yet triumphant laugh made its way
into his voice. His eyes sparkled. His shoulders and legs quivered.
"Perhaps I have really sinned against you, then for Christ's sake
forgive me."
Arina Petrovna rose and bowed till her hand touched the floor. Pavel
Vladimirych shut his eyes without replying.
"Suppose we let the question of the estate alone. You couldn't make
any arrangement in your present condition. Porfiry is the lawful heir.
Well, let the real estate go to him. But what about your personal
property and capital?" Arina Petrovna ventured to state her point
directly.
Pavel Vladimirych shuddered, but remained silent. It is very possible
that at the word "capital" he gave no thought whatsoever to his
mother's insinuations, but simply mused: "September is here already. I
have to collect the interest."
"If you think I desire your death, you're very much mistaken, my
child. If you would only live I should not need to complain in my old
age. What have I to grumble about? I have food and shelter here, and
should I want a little additional pleasure, I can get it. I merely
wish to call your attention to the fact that there is a custom among
Christians, according to which, in expectation of the life to come,
we----"
Arina Petrovna paused, searching for a suitable word.
"We provide for the future of those related to us," she concluded,
looking out of the window.
Pavel Vladimirych lay motionless, coughing softly. He did not betray
by a single movement whether or not he was listening. Apparently his
mother was boring him.
"The capital may go from hand to hand during life," said Arina
Petrovna, as though passing a trivial remark and resuming the
inspection of her hands.
The patient shuddered slightly, but Arina Petrovna did not notice it
and continued:
"The law, my friend, expressly permits the free transfer of capital.
Money is something one acquires. Yesterday you had it. To-day it is
gone. And nobody can call you to account for it. You can give it to
whomever you choose."
Pavel Vladimirych suddenly laughed viciously.
"You probably remember the story about Polochkin," he hissed. "He gave
his capital to his wife 'from hand to hand' and she ran off with her
lover."
"You may rest assured, my child, I have no lover."
"Then you'll run off without a lover--with the money."
"How well you understand my motives!"
"I don't understand you at all. You gave me the reputation of a fool.
Well, I _am_ a fool. Let me be a fool. What wonderful tricks they have
invented--to pass my money from hand to hand! And where do I come in? I
suppose you'll order me to go to a monastery for my salvation, and from
there watch how you manage my money?"
He shot these words out in a volley, in a voice full of hatred and
indignation. Then he broke down completely and burst into a fit of
coughing that lasted a full quarter of an hour. It was amazing to see
how much strength that wretched human skeleton contained. Finally he
caught his breath and closed his eyes.
Arina Petrovna looked about in bewilderment. Until that moment she
could not believe it, somehow, but now she was fully convinced that
every attempt to persuade the dying man would only serve to hasten the
day of Yudushka's triumph. Yudushka kept dancing before her eyes. She
saw him walking behind the hearse, giving his brother the last Judas
kiss and squeezing out two foul tears. Then she had a picture of the
coffin being lowered into the grave and Yudushka exclaiming, "Farewell,
brother!" his lips twitching and his eyes rolling upward. She heard
his attempt to add a note of grief to his voice, and afterwards say,
turning to Ulita: "The kutya,[A] the kutya, don't forget to take the
kutya into the house. And be sure to put on a clean table cloth. We
must honor brother's memory in the house, too." Next she saw him
presiding over the funeral feast, chatting incessantly with the
reverend father about the virtues of the deceased. She heard him say,
"Ah, brother, brother, you didn't wish to live with us," as he rose
from the table, stretching out his hand, palm upward, to receive the
father's blessing. And lastly she saw Yudushka walking about the house
with the air of a master, taking the inventory of all the effects and
in doubtful cases casting suspicious glances at mother.
All these inevitable scenes of the future floated before Arina
Petrovna's mental vision. In her ears rang Yudushka's shrill, unctuous
voice as he said: "Do you remember, mother dear, the little golden
shirt studs that brother had? They were so pretty. He used to wear them
on holidays. I simply can't imagine where those studs could have gone
to."
[Footnote A: A gruel made of rice or wheat or barley, boiled with
raisins and mead. It is eaten after the mass for the dead and, in the
South, on Christmas Eve.--_Translator's Note._] |
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