Enough!
You've said everything necessary.
I have given you my answer.
And now let's go and have tea.
We'll chat a while, then we'll have a bite, then a drink before you go—and then God speed you!
You see how good the Lord is to you?
The weather has abated and the road become smoother.
Little by little, bit by bit, one, two, and you'll hardly notice when you get to the station."
"Now, listen, I implore you. If you have a drop of feeling——"
"No, no, no! Don't let us talk about it.
Let's go into the dining-room. I dare say mother dear must be dull without her tea.
It isn't proper to keep the dear old woman waiting."
Yudushka made a sharp turn and almost ran to the door.
"You may go or not, it's all the same to me, but I am not going to drop this conversation," Petenka shouted after him. "It will be worse if we begin talking in the presence of witnesses."
Yudushka came back and planted himself squarely before his son.
"What do you want of me, you scoundrel? Speak up!"
"I want you to pay the money that I lost."
"Never!"
"Is that your last word?"
"You see," exclaimed Yudushka solemnly, pointing at the ikon that hung in the corner, "You see that?
It is grandfather's benediction. So, in the presence of that image I say, Never!"
And with a firm step he left the study.
"Murderer!" was hurled after him.
_____ CHAPTER VI
Arina Petrovna was already at the table, and Yevpraksia was busy arranging the tea things.
The old woman was silent and thoughtful, and looked as if she were ashamed of Petenka.
In the customary way Yudushka kissed her hand, and she made the sign of the cross over him.
Then came the usual questions, whether everybody felt well, and had had a good night's rest, followed by the customary monosyllabic answers.
Petenka's asking Arina Petrovna for money and awakening the memory of the "curse" had put her into a state of peculiar uneasiness. She was pursued by the thought, "What if I threaten him with my curse?"
When she had heard that explanations in the study had begun, she had turned to Yevpraksia with the request:
"Suppose, my dear, you go to the door quietly and listen to what they say."
Yevpraksia went to eavesdrop, but was so stupid she could understand nothing.
"Oh, they're just having a chat," she explained upon her return.
Then Arina Petrovna could not hold out any longer and went to the dining-room, where the samovar had already been brought in.
But the interview was nearing its end, and all she noted was that Petenka's voice was loud and angry, and Porfiry Vladimirych's replies were given in a nagging voice.
"He's nagging him, that just it, nagging!" ran in her head. "I remember he used to nag that way, and how is it I did not understand him then?"
At last, father and son appeared in the dining-room.
Petenka's face was red and he was breathing heavily. His eyes were staring widely, his hair was disheveled, his forehead was covered with beads of perspiration.
Yudushka, on the contrary, entered pale and cross. He wanted to appear indifferent but, in spite of all his efforts, his lower lip trembled.
He could hardly utter the customary morning greetings to his mother dear.
All took their places at the table. Petenka seated himself at some distance, leaned against the back of his chair, crossed his legs, lighted a cigarette, and looked at his father ironically.
"You see, mother, the storm has abated," Yudushka began. "Yesterday there was such an uproar, but God only had to will it, and here we have a nice, bright, quiet day. Am I right, mother dear?"
"I don't know. I haven't been out to-day."
"By the way, we are going to see our dear guest off," continued Yudushka. "I rose early this morning, looked out of the window—it was still and quiet outdoors, as if God's angel had flown by and in a moment allayed the riot with his wings."
But no one answered Yudushka's kindly words. Yevpraksia sipped her tea from the saucer, blowing and puffing. Arina Petrovna looked into her cup and was silent. Petenka, swaying in his chair, continued to eye his father with an ironical, defiant air, as if he had to exert great efforts to keep from bursting out laughing.
"Even if Petenka does not ride fast, he will reach the railway station toward night," Porfiry Vladimirych resumed. "Our horses are not overworked.
They will feed for a couple of hours at Muravyevo, and they will get him to the place in a jiffy.
Ah, Petka, you are a bad boy! Suppose you stay with us a while longer—really.
We would enjoy your company, and you would improve greatly in a week."
But Petenka continued to sway in his chair and eye his father.