"He did so.
He was so tortured that he begged forgiveness, too.
He did everything, he did."
"And even if he did, he was wrong.
You ask forgiveness once, you see your father does not forgive you, you ask again!"
"Oh, you!"
At this Petenka suddenly ceased swaying his chair, turned about, faced the table and rested both elbows on it.
"And here I, too——" he whispered.
His face gradually became disfigured.
"And here I too——" he repeated, and burst into hysterical sobbing.
"Whose fault——"
But Yudushka had no chance to finish his sermon. At that moment something quite unexpected took place.
During their skirmish the man had almost forgotten about Arina Petrovna.
But she had not remained an indifferent spectator.
On the contrary, you could tell at a glance that something quite unusual was taking place within her, and that the moment perhaps had arrived when the ruthless vision of her entire life appeared before her spiritual eye in a glaring light.
Her face livened up, her eyes widened and glittered, her lips moved as if they were struggling to utter some word and could not.
Suddenly, just at the moment when Petenka's bitter weeping resounded in the dining-room she rose heavily from her arm-chair, stretched her arms forward, and a loud wail broke out from her breast.
"My cu-r-r-se upon you!"
_____ BOOK IV THE GOOD LITTLE NIECE _____ CHAPTER I
Yudushka did not give the money to Petenka, though, kind father that he was, he gave orders just before the moment of departure for some chicken, veal and pie to be placed in the carriage.
Then he went out on the porch in the chilling wind to see his son off, and inquired whether Petenka was seated comfortably and whether he had wrapped his feet up well. Re-entering the house, he stood at the window in the dining-room a long time making the sign of the cross and sending his blessings after the vehicle that was carrying Petenka away.
In a word, he performed the farewell ceremony fittingly, as becomes good kinsfolk.
"Oh, Petka, Petka," he said, "you are a bad, bad son.
Look at the mischief you have done. My, my, my!
And what could have been better than to live on quietly and peacefully, nicely and easily with father and old granny? But no!
Crash! Bang!
I am my own master, I've got a head on my shoulders, too!
Well, there's your head!
My, what trouble!"
Not a muscle quivered in his wooden face, not a note in his voice sounded like an appeal to a prodigal son.
But, then, there was nobody to hear his words, for Arina Petrovna was the only one beside himself in the room, and as a result of the shock she had just gone through she seemed to have lost all vitality, and sat near the samovar, her mouth open, looking straight ahead, without hearing anything, without a single thought in her mind.
Then life flowed on as usual, full of idle bustle and babbling.
Contrary to Petenka's expectations, Porfiry Vladimirych took the maternal curse quite coolly and did not recede a hair's breadth from the decision that had come from his head full-formed, as it were.
It is true he turned slightly pale and rushed toward his mother with a cry:
"Mother, dear! Darling!
Lord be with you! Be calm, dear!
God is merciful. All will be well."
But his words were expressive of alarm for her rather than for himself.
Her act had been so unexpected that Yudushka even forgot to pretend to be frightened.
Only last night his mother had been affectionate, had jested, and played fool with Yevpraksia. Evidently, then, it had all happened in a moment of sudden anger, and there was nothing premeditated, nothing real about it all.
Indeed, he had been very much afraid of his mother's curse but he had pictured it quite differently.
In his idle mind he had built an elaborate staging for the occasion, ikons, burning candles, his mother standing in the center of the room, terrible, with a darkened face as she hurled the curse.
Then, thunder, candles going out, the veil tearing asunder, darkness covering the earth, and above, amidst the clouds the wrathful countenance of Jehovah illumined by a flash of lightning.
But nothing of the sort had happened, so his mother had simply done something rash and silly.
And she had had no reason to curse him in earnest, because of late there had been no cause for quarreling.
Many changes had occurred since Yudushka expressed his doubt as to whether a certain coach belonged to his mother dear (Yudushka admitted to himself that then he had been wrong and deserved damnation). Arina Petrovna had become more submissive, and Porfiry Vladimirych had but one thought in his head: how to placate his mother dear.
"The old woman is doing poorly, my, how poorly! At times she even raves," he consoled himself.
"The darling sits down to play fool and before you know it, she dozes off."
In justice to Yudushka it must be admitted that his mother's decrepitude gave him some alarm.
Even he was not quite ready for her death, had not made any plans, had had no time to make estimates—how much capital mother had when she left Dubrovino, what that capital might bring in annually, how much of the interest she had spent, and how much she had added to the principal.