Do you want him to remain at Golovliovo, hanging around his mother's neck?"
"Just so, dearest mother, if you please.
Let him be where he is and make him sign a paper about the heritage."
"So, so. I knew that was what you would advise.
All right.
God alone knows how it will pain me always to be having that creature around. However, it seems nobody will take pity on me.
When I was young I bore my cross. Shall I refuse it in my old age?
But there is still another point.
While papa and I are alive, he'll live at Golovliovo, and we won't let him starve.
But how about afterwards?"
"Dearest mother! Darling!
Why such melancholy thoughts?" cried the Bloodsucker.
"Melancholy or not, still one has to provide ahead.
We aren't babies.
When we die, what will become of him?"
"Dearest mother! Can't you count on us, your children? Have we not been properly brought up by you?"
Porfiry Vladimirych flashed on her one of those puzzling glances which had always made her uneasy, and went on:
"The poor man, dear mamma, I shall help with greater joy than the rich.
The rich man, Christ be with him, the rich man has enough of his own.
But the poor man—you know what Christ said of the poor."
Porfiry Vladimirych got up and kissed his mother's hand.
"Dearest mamma, allow me to present my brother with two pounds of tobacco," he said entreatingly.
Arina Petrovna did not answer.
She looked at him and reflected: "Is he really such a Bloodsucker that he would turn his own brother out on the streets?"
"Well, do as you please.
Let him live at Golovliovo," she said finally, turning to Porfiry. "You have trapped me. You started with 'just as you please, dearest mamma,' and finished by dancing me on your wire.
But let me tell you this, I hate him and he has disgraced and pestered me all his life, he has even dishonored my motherly blessing. Nevertheless, if you turn him out into the streets or make a beggar of him, you shall not have my blessing.
No, no, no.
Now you two go to him. The idiot is wearing out his silly eyes looking for you."
The sons left. Arina Petrovna rose and watched them stride over the front yard to the counting-house without exchanging a word.
Porfiry was constantly taking off his cap and crossing himself, now at the sight of the church, which shimmered afar off, now before the chapel, now before the wooden post to which a charity box was attached.
As for Pavel, he seemed unable to take his eyes off his boot tips shining in the sunlight.
"For whom have I been accumulating riches? Refused myself sleep and food—for whom?" she cried bitterly.
_____ CHAPTER V
The brothers departed, and the manor-house of Golovliovo was deserted.
With renewed energy, Arina Petrovna took up her work again. The clatter of the knives in the kitchen ceased, but activities in office, storehouses, cellars, were redoubled.
Summer, the great provider, was nearly over; preserving, canning, pickling, storing were in full swing. Winter provisions flowed in from all quarters, dried mushrooms, berries, eggs, vegetables. This requisition in kind imposed upon the peasant women came in wagons from all the various family estates.
Everything was measured and added to the stores of former years.
Not in vain had the lady of Golovliovo had a long row of cellars, storehouses and granaries built. They were full to the brim. Quite a good deal of damaged material was along with the rest and smelt foully.
At the end of summer the stuff was all sorted and what was suspicious was sent to the servants' quarters.
"The pickles are still in good condition, only the skin is coming off in some places, and they smell a little. Well, let the servants enjoy a dainty bit," Arina Petrovna would say, pointing out the barrels to be put aside.
Stepan Vladimirych adapted himself admirably to his new condition.
At times he felt a strong craving to get drunk as a piper. He had money for the purpose, as we shall see later. But he restrained himself stoically, as if considering that the time had not yet arrived.
He was always busy now, for he took a lively part in the provisioning, rejoicing in its successes and regretting its failures in a wholly disinterested manner.
In a sort of ecstasy, hatless, clad in his dressing-gown, he scurried from the office to the cellars, hiding from his mother behind trees and various small buildings that crowded the court-yard. Arina Petrovna noticed him in this garb many times, and felt an itching in her motherly heart to give Simple Simon a severe scolding, but on second thought she left him alone in his escapades. In the cellars Stepan Vladimirych with feverish impatience watched how the carts were unloaded, how jars, barrels and tubs were brought in from the estate, and everything was assorted and finally sent off into the yawning abyss of cellars and storehouses.
He felt satisfied in most instances.
"To-day two wagons of mushrooms came from Dubrovino. Ripping fine mushrooms, brother," he informed the village clerk rapturously. "And we were afraid we should have to get along without mushrooms this winter.
Bravo, Dubrovino fellow, much obliged! Fine fellows they are! They have helped us out!"
On another occasion, he said:
"To-day mother gave an order to catch some carps in the pond. You ought to see them!