Porfiry Vladimirych was astounded. It was a few moments before he came to himself.
He rose hastily from his seat, faced the ikon and began to pray.
"You, you, you!" Petenka repeated.
"Well, now! Thank God, I feel better after praying," said Yudushka, seating himself at table again. "Just a minute, though. I, as your father, should not take you up on your talk, but we'll pursue the matter this time.
Then you mean to say that I killed Volodenka?"
"Yes, you did."
"And I beg leave to differ.
I consider he shot himself.
At that time I was at Golovliovo and in St. Petersburg.
So what could I have to do with it? How could I kill him when he was seven hundred versts away?"
"As if you don't understand!"
"I don't understand, by the Lord, I don't!"
"And who left Volodya without a penny? Who discontinued his allowances? Who?"
"Stuff and nonsense! Why did he marry against his father's will?"
"But you gave him your permission."
"Who? I?
What are you talking about?
I never did anything of the kind.
Nev-v-v-er!"
"Oh, of course, you acted as you always do.
Everyone of your words has ten meanings. Go, guess the right one."
"I never gave my permission.
He wrote to me, 'Papa, I want to marry Lida,' you understand, 'I want to,' not 'I beg your permission.'
Well, I answered him, 'If you want to marry, you can marry. I cannot stand in your way.'
That's all there was to it."
"That's all there was to it," Petenka said jeeringly. "And wasn't that giving your permission?"
"That's exactly what it wasn't.
What did I say? I said, 'I cannot stand in your way.' That's all.
But whether I give my permission or not, is a different question.
He did not ask my permission, he simply wrote, 'Papa, I want to marry Lida.' Well, and as to permission he kept mum.
You want to marry. Well, my friend, may God be with you, marry Lida or Fida, I cannot stand in your way!"
"But you could leave him without a crust of bread.
So why didn't you write this way, 'I do not approve of your intention, and therefore, though I will not hinder you, I warn you that you can not longer rely on financial aid from me.'
That, at least, would have been clear."
"No, I shall never permit myself to do such things, to make threats against a grown son—never!
I have a rule never to be in anybody's way.
If you want to marry—marry!
Well, and as to consequences—I am sorry.
It was your business to foresee them yourself. That's why God gave you reason.
And as to me, brother, I don't like to thrust myself into other people's affairs.
I not only keep from meddling myself, but I don't invite others to meddle in my affairs, I don't invite it, I don't, I don't, I even forbid it!
Do you hear me, you wicked, disrespectful son, I f-o-r-b-i-d it!"
"You may forbid it, if you like, but you can't muzzle everybody."
"If at least he had repented! And if at least he had realized that he offended his father!
Well, you committed a folly—say you are sorry.
Ask forgiveness! 'Forgive me, dear papa, for the mortification I caused you.'
But he wouldn't!"
"But he did write to you. He made it clear to you that he had nothing to live on, that he could not endure it any longer."
"That's not the kind of thing to write to a father.
From a father one asks pardon, that's all."