And although your life has never been too joyful, yet as I think how Fate deals you so many blows at once, upon my word, I wonder where you get the strength to bear up under it all."
"Well, my friend, the strength comes if such is the Lord's will. You know what it says in the Scriptures: 'Bear one another's burdens.' It seems that our Heavenly Father has chosen me to bear the burdens of my family."
Arina Petrovna shut her eyes, so delightful was this vision of the family finding their tables covered for them and of her toiling for them and bearing their burdens.
"Yes, my friend," she said after a minute's pause, "it's a hard life I lead in my old age.
I have provided for my children, and it is time for me to rest.
It's no joke—four thousand souls! At my age to take care of such an estate, to have an eye on everybody and everything, to run back and forth!
As for all those bailiffs and managers, they look you straight in the eye, but, believe me, they are the most faithless kind.
And you," she interrupted herself, turning to Pavel, "what are you digging in your nose for?"
"What have I to do with it?" snarled Pavel Vladimirych, disturbed in the very midst of his absorbing occupation.
"What do you mean? After all, he's your father. You might find a word of pity for him."
"Well—a father!
A father like any other father.
He has been that way for ten years.
You always make things unpleasant for me."
"Why in the world should I, my boy? I am your mother.
Here is Porfisha. He has found words of affection and pity for me as befits a good son, but you don't even look at your mother properly. You look at her out of the corner of your eye, as if she were not your mother, but your foe.
Please don't bite me."
"Well, what——"
"Stop! Hold your tongue for a minute. Let your mother say a word.
Do you remember the commandment, 'Honor thy father and thy mother, and all will be well with thee?' Am I to understand that you don't wish to be well?"
Pavel Vladimirych kept silence and looked at his mother in perplexity.
"You see, you're silenced," went on Arina Petrovna, "you are guilty.
But I shall let you alone.
For the sake of this joyful meeting we shall dispense with this talk.
God, my child, sees everything. As for me, I see you through and through, and I always have.
Children, children, you will remember your mother when she lies in her grave. You will remember her, but it will be too late."
"Mamma dear!" interposed Porfiry Vladimirych. "Away with such black thoughts, away with them!"
"We must all die," said Arina Petrovna sententiously. "These are not black, but pious thoughts.
I'm growing weak, children, oh, how weak!
Debility and ailments are the only things left of my former strength.
Even the maids have noticed it, and they don't care a rap for me.
If I say one word, they have ten in reply.
I have only one threat, that I shall complain to the young masters.
That works sometimes."
Tea was served and then breakfast, during which Arina Petrovna continued her complaining and self-pitying.
After breakfast she invited her sons to her bedroom.
When the door was locked, she went straight to the business for which she had convoked the family council.
"Simple Simon is here," she began.
"We heard about it, mamma dear," said Porfiry Vladimirych; and it was hard to say whether it was irony or the calm complacency of a man who has just eaten a hearty meal that sounded in his voice.
"He has come here as if that were the proper thing to do. Whatever he may have done, he seems to think the old mother will always have bread for him.
Think of all his hatred for me, of all the trouble his tricks and buffoonery have caused me.
And what have I not done to get him a good berth? It all ran off like water from a duck's back.
At last, I made up my mind. Goodness, if he cannot take care of himself, am I to ruin my life on account of the big lout?
I'll give him a piece of the property, I decided. Perhaps, I thought, once an independent proprietor he'll sober down.
No sooner said than done.
I myself found a house for him and paid out twelve thousand silver rubles for it with my own hands.
And what's the upshot? After less than three years he's hanging round my neck again.
How long am I to stand such insults?"
Porfisha lifted up his eyes and shook his head sorrowfully, as if to say, "Fine doings. Why disturb mother dear so ruthlessly? Why not live peacefully and quietly? Then dear mamma would not be angry. Fine doings."
But Porfisha's gestures did not please Arina Petrovna, who objected to any interruption to the course of her thoughts.