If you condemn him, he will be guilty. If you condemn me, I shall be guilty.
Only I shall not allow the rascal to get the better of me," she added, quite unexpectedly.
Porfiry Vladimirych felt his turn had come, and he prepared to hold forth, but approached the subject in a roundabout way.
"If you will permit me, dearest mother, to express my opinion," he said, "here it is in two words: children must obey their parents, blindly do their bidding, cherish them in their old age. That's all!
What are children, dear mother?
Children are loving creatures who owe their parents everything, from their persons to the last rag they possess.
Therefore, parents may judge children, while children may never judge parents.
Children are in duty bound to respect, not to judge.
You say: 'Judge us.'
That is magnanimous of you, dear mother, magnificent!
But how can we think about it without fear, we whom from the first day of our birth you have been clothing with kindness from head to foot?
Say what you may, it would not be judgment but blasphemy.
It would be such blasphemy, such blasphemy——"
"Stop, wait a minute. If you say you cannot sit in judgment on me, acquit me and condemn him," Arina Petrovna interrupted. She was listening and trying to search his meaning, but could not make out what new plot was back of the Bloodsucker's mind.
"No, mother dear, even that I cannot do, or rather I don't dare to.
I have no right to.
I can neither acquit nor condemn. I simply cannot judge.
You are the mother; you alone know how to deal with us children.
You have the right to reward us if we deserve it, and chastise us if we are guilty.
Our duty is not to criticise, but to obey.
And if at the moment of parental wrath you exceed the measure of justice, even then we dare not grumble, for the ways of Providence are hidden from us.
Who knows, perhaps it was necessary.
Our brother Stepan has acted basely, unspeakably, but you alone can determine the degree of punishment he deserves."
"Then you refuse to help me?
You would have me get out of this affair as best I can?"
"Oh, dearest, dearest, how you misunderstood me!
Goodness, goodness!
I said, that however you might be pleased to dispose of brother Stepan's fate, so shall it be, and you—what horrible thoughts you ascribe to me."
"All right.
And you?" she turned to Pavel Vladimirych.
"Do you want my opinion?
But what's my opinion to you?" said he, as if only half-awake. However, he braced himself unexpectedly and went on: "Of course, he's guilty. Have him torn to pieces—ground to dust in a mortar—it's settled in advance. What am I in this?"
Having mumbled these incoherent words, he stopped and stared at his mother, his mouth wide open, as if not trusting his own ears.
"Well, my dear, I shall speak to you later," Arina Petrovna cut him off coldly. "I see that you are anxious to tread in Stiopka's tracks. Take care, my child.
You will repent, but it will be too late."
"Why, what's the matter?
I'm not saying anything.
I say, just as you please. What is there disrespectful in that?" said Pavel Vladimirych, faintly.
"I'll talk with you later on, my boy, later on.
You think because you are an army officer, you can run wild.
You are greatly mistaken.
Then neither of you wants to sit in judgment?"
"I, dearest mother——"
"What am I in this?" said Pavel Vladimirych.
"I don't care.
Have him torn to pieces."
"Hold your tongue, for Christ's sake, you wicked man!" Arina Petrovna felt she was fully entitled to call her son "scoundrel," but refrained in deference to the joyous meeting. "Well, if you refuse to judge him I shall.
Here is my verdict. I shall try to treat him kindly once more. I shall hand over to him the little Vologda village, have a cottage built there, and let him live there and be fed by the peasants."
Although Porfiry Vladimirych had refused to sit in judgment on his brother, his mother's generosity was so amazing that he felt he simply had to point out the dangerous consequences of her project.
"Dearest mamma," he exclaimed, "you are more than magnanimous.