CHAPTER V

No sooner did Arina Petrovna come downstairs, than a carriage drawn by a team of four horses made its appearance on a hill near the church. In it, in the place of honor, was seated Porfiry Golovliov, who had removed his hat and was crossing himself at the sight of the church. Opposite him sat his two sons, Petenka and Volodenka. The very blood froze in Arina Petrovna's veins as the thought flashed through her mind, "Speak of the devil and he's sure to appear." The girls also lost courage, and timidly clung closer to their grandmother. The house hitherto peaceful was suddenly filled with alarm. Doors banged, people ran about crying, "The master is coming, the master is coming!" and all the occupants of the house rushed out on the porch. Some made the sign of the cross, some stood in silent expectation, all apparently conscious of the fact that the existing order in Dubrovino had been only temporary, and that now the real management was to begin with a real master at the head. Under the former master some of the old, deserving serfs had enjoyed the privilege of a monthly allowance of provisions. Many of them fed their cattle on the master's hay, had kitchen gardens of their own, and altogether lived "freely." Everyone, of course, was now vitally interested to know whether the new master would permit the old order of things, or whether he would introduce a new one, similar to that which prevailed at Golovliovo.

Yudushka drove up to the house. From the reception accorded to him he concluded that affairs at Dubrovino were fast coming to a head. Without a sign of haste, he descended from the carriage, waved his hand to the servants who rushed forward to kiss it, then put his palms together, and began to climb the steps slowly, whispering a prayer. His face expressed a feeling of mingled grief, firmness, and resignation. As a man he grieved; as a Christian he did not dare to complain. He prayed to God to cure his brother, but above all he put his trust in the Lord and bowed before His will. His sons walked side by side behind him, Volodenka mimicking his father, clasping his hands, rolling his eyes heavenward and mumbling his lips. Petenka revelled in his brother's performance. Behind them, in silent procession, followed the servants.

Yudushka kissed dear mother's hand, then her lips, then her hand again and put his arm about her waist and said, shaking his head sadly:

"And you keep on worrying. That's bad, mother dear, very bad. Instead of that you should ask yourself: 'And what is God going to say to this?' He will say: 'Here have I in my infinite wisdom arranged everything for the best, and she grumbles.' Ah, mother dear, mother dear."

Then he kissed both of his nieces, and with the same charming familiarity in his voice, said:

"And you, too, romps, you are crying your eyes out. I won't permit it. I command you immediately to smile. And that shall be the end of it."

And he stamped his foot at them in jesting anger.

"Just look at me," he continued. "As a brother I am torn with grief. More than once I have shed tears. I am sorry for brother, sorry as can be. I weep. Then I bethink myself: 'And what is God for? Is it possible that God knows less than we what ought to be?' This thought inspires me with courage. That is how you all should act, you, mother dear, and you, little nieces, and--" he turned to the servants--"you all."

"Look at me, how well I bear up."

And in the same charming manner he proceeded to impersonate a man who bears up. He straightened his body, put one foot forward, expanded his chest, and threw back his head. The audience smiled sourly.

This performance over, Yudushka passed into the drawing-room and kissed his mother's hand again.

"Well, so that's how things are, mother dear," he said, seating himself on the couch. "So brother Pavel, too."

"Yes, Pavel, too," softly answered Arina Petrovna.

"Yes, yes--a little too early. Although I play the brave, in my soul I, too, suffer and grieve for my poor brother. He hated me--hated me bitterly. Maybe that is why God is punishing him."

"You might forget about it at such a moment. You must set old grudges aside."

"I have forgotten it all long ago. I only mentioned it in passing. My brother disliked me, for what reason, I know not. I tried one way and another, directly and indirectly. I called him 'dear' and 'kind brother,' but he drew back and that was the end of it."

"I asked you please not to bring all that up. The man is lying at the point of death."

"Yes, mother dear, death is a great mystery. 'For ye know neither the day nor the hour.' That's the kind of mystery it is. There he was making plans, thinking he was exalted so high, so high as to be beyond mortal reach. But in one instant with one blow God undid all his dreams. Perhaps he would be glad now to cover up his sins. But they are already recorded in the Book of Life. And whatever is written in that book, mother dear, won't be scraped off in a hurry."

"But does not the Lord accept the sinner's repentance?"

"That's just what I wish for him from the bottom of my heart. I know he hated me, still I wish him forgiveness. I wish the best for everybody--for those that hate me, those that insult me--everybody. He was unfair to me and now God sends him an ailment--not I, but God. Does he suffer much, mother dear?"

"Well, not very much. The doctor was here and even gave us hopes." So lied Arina Petrovna.

"What splendid news! Don't you worry, dear mother, he'll pull through yet. Here we are eating our hearts away and grumbling at the Creator, and perhaps he is sitting quietly on his bed thanking the Lord for his recovery."

The idea delighted Yudushka so immensely that he even giggled softly to himself.

"Do you know, mother dear, that I have come to stay here a while?" he went on, for all the world as if he were giving his mother a pleasant surprise. "It's among good kinsmen, you know. In case something happens--you understand, as a brother--I may console, advise, make arrangements. You will permit me, will you not?"

"What sort of permissions can I give when I am here myself only as a--guest?"

"Well, then, dearest, since this is Friday, just order them, if you please, to prepare a fish meal for me. Some salt-fish, mushrooms, a little cabbage--you know, I don't need much. And in the meantime, as a relative, I shall drag myself up to the entresol. Perhaps I shall still be in time to do some good, if not to his body, at least to his soul. In his position, it seems to me, the soul is of much more consequence. We can patch up the body, mother dear, with potions and poultices, but the soul needs a more potent remedy."

Arina Petrovna made no objection. The thought of the inevitability of the "end" had taken such complete hold of her, that she observed everything and listened to everything about her dazedly. She saw Yudushka rise from the sofa, stoop and shuffle his feet. He liked to appear invalided at times. He had an idea it added to his dignity. She knew the unexpected appearance of the Bloodsucker in the entresol would greatly excite the patient, might even hasten his end. But after the day of agitation, she was so exhausted that she felt as if in a dream.

Meanwhile Pavel Vladimirych was in an indescribable state of excitement. Though quite alone, he was aware of an unusual stir in the house. Every bang of a door, every hurried footstep in the hall awakened a mysterious alarm. For a while he called with all his might; but, soon convinced his shouts were useless, he gathered all his strength, sat up in bed, and listened. The sound of running feet and loud voices stopped and was followed by a dead silence. Something unknown and fearful surrounded him. Only a few, miserly rays of light sifted through the lowered shades and the dim light of the lamp burning before the ikon in the corner made the dusk filling the room seem all the darker and gloomier. Pavel fixed his gaze upon that mysterious corner as if for the first time he found something surprising in it. The ikon, in a gilt framework on which the rays from the lamp fell perpendicularly, stood out of the gloom with a sort of striking brightness, like something alive. A circle of light wavered upon the ceiling, flaring up or dying down in proportion to the strength or weakness of the lamplight. Strange shadows filled the room, and the dressing-gown hanging on the wall was alive with vacillating stripes of light and shadow. Pavel Vladimirych watched and watched, and he felt as if right there in that corner everything were suddenly beginning to move. Solitude, helplessness, dead silence--and shadows, a host of shadows. The shadows seemed to be coming, coming, coming. Gripped by an indescribable terror, he gazed into the mysterious corner, eyes and mouth agape, uttering no cries, but simply groaning--groaning in a stifled voice, in jerks, like the barking of a dog. He heard neither the creak of the stairs nor the careful shuffling steps in the adjacent room. Suddenly, beside his bed, there loomed up the detestable figure of Yudushka, as if from that gloom which had just mysteriously hovered before his eyes, and as if there were more, more of shadows, shadows without end--coming, coming----

"What? Where did you come from? Who let you in?" he cried instinctively, dropping back on his pillow helplessly. Yudushka stood at the bedside, scrutinizing the sick man and shaking his head sorrowfully.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, putting all the oiliness of which he was capable into his voice.

Pavel Vladimirych was silent, but stared at him stupidly, as if making every effort to understand him.

Meanwhile Yudushka approached the ikon, fell to his knees, bowed three times to the ground, arose and appeared again at the bedside.

"Well, brother, get up. May God send you grace," he said, sitting down in an armchair, in a voice so jovial that he actually appeared to be carrying "grace" about with him in his pocket.

At last Pavel Vladimirych realized that this was no shadow but the Bloodsucker in flesh. He seemed to coil up of a sudden as if in a cramp. Yudushka's eyes were bright with affection, but the invalid very distinctly saw the "noose" lurking in those eyes ready any instant to dart out and tighten round his neck.

"Ah, brother, brother, you've become no better than an old woman," Yudushka continued jocosely. "Come, brace up! Get up and run a little race. Come on, come on, give mother the joy of seeing what a strong fellow you are. Come on now! Up with you!"

"Get out of here, Bloodsucker!" the invalid cried in desperation.

"Ah, brother, brother! I come to you in kindness and sympathy, and you ... what do you say in return? Oh, what a sin! And how could your tongue say such a thing to your own brother! It's a shame, darling, it's a shame! Wait a minute, let me arrange the pillow for you."

Yudushka got up and poked his finger into the pillow.

"Like this," he continued. "That's fine now. Lie quietly, now. You won't need to touch it till tomorrow."

"You get out!"

"My, how cranky your illness has made you! Why, you have even become stubborn, really. You keep chasing me, 'Get out, get out!' But how can I go? Here, for instance, you feel thirsty and I hand you some water. Or I see the ikon is out of order, and I set it to rights, or pour in some oil. You just lie where you are and I'll be sitting nearby, real quietly. So we won't even see how time flies."

"Get out, you Bloodsucker!"

"Look here, you are insulting me, but I am going to pray to the Lord for you. I know it isn't you, it's your illness talking. You see, brother, I am used to forgiving. I forgive everybody. Today, for instance, as I was coming here I met a peasant, and he said something about me. Well, the Lord be with him. He defiled his own tongue. And I, why I not only was not angry at him, I even made the sign of the cross over him, I did truly."

"You robbed him, didn't you?"

"Who, I? Why, no, my friend, I don't rob people; highwaymen rob, but I--I act in accordance with the law. I caught his horse grazing in my meadows--well, let him go to the justice of the peace. If the justice says it's right to let your cattle graze on other people's fields, well, then I'll give him his horse back, but if the justice says it isn't right, I am sorry. The peasant will have to pay a fine. I act according to the law, my friend, according to the law."

"You Judas the traitor, you left mother a pauper."

"I repeat, you may be angry, if you please, but you are wrong. If I were not a Christian, I would even have cause to be angry at you for what you've just said."

"Yes, you did, you did make mother a pauper."

"Now, do be quiet, please. Here, I am going to pray for you. Maybe that will calm you down."

Though Yudushka had restrained himself successfully throughout the conversation, the dying man's curses affected him deeply. His lips curled queerly and turned pale. However, hypocrisy was so ingrained in his nature that once the comedy was begun, he could not leave it unfinished. So he knelt before the ikon and for fully fifteen minutes murmured prayers, his hands uplifted. Thereupon he returned to the dying man's bed with countenance calm and serene.

"You know, brother, I have come to talk serious matters over with you," he said, seating himself in the armchair. "Here you are insulting me, but I am thinking of your soul. Tell me, please, when did you communicate last?"

"Oh, Lord! What is all this? Take him away! Ulita, Agasha! Anybody here?" moaned Pavel.

"Now, now, darling, do be quiet. I know you don't like to talk about it. Yes, brother, you always were a bad Christian and you are still. But it wouldn't be bad, really it wouldn't, to give some thought to your soul. We've got to be careful with our souls, my friend, oh, how careful! Do you know what the Church prescribes? It says, 'Ye shall offer prayers and thanks.' And again, 'The end of a Christian's earthly life is painless, honorable and peaceable.' That's what it is, my friend. You really ought to send for the priest and sincerely, with penitence. All right, I won't, I won't. But really you'd better."

Pavel Vladimirych lay livid and nearly suffocated. If he could have, he would have dashed his head to pieces.

"And how about the estate? Have you already made arrangements?" continued Yudushka. "Yours is a fine little estate, a very fine one. The soil is even better than at Golovliovo. And you have money, too, I suppose. Of course, I don't know anything about your affairs. I only know that you received a lump sum on freeing your serfs, but exactly how much, I never cared to know. To-day, for instance, as I was coming here, I said to myself, 'I suppose brother Pavel has money.' 'But then,' I thought, 'if he has capital, he must have decided already how to dispose of it.'"

The patient turned away and sighed heavily.

"You have not made any disposition? Well, so much the better, my friend. It's even more just, according to the law. It won't be inherited by strangers, but by your own kind. Take me, for example, I am old, with one foot in the grave, but still I think, 'Why should I make disposition of my property if the law will do it all for me, after I am dead?' And it's really the right way, my friend. There will be no quarrels, no envy, no lawsuits. It's the law."

That was unbearable. Pavel Vladimirych felt as if he were lying in a coffin, fettered, in lethargy, unable to move a limb, and forced to hear the Bloodsucker revile his dead body.

"Get out--for Christ's sake, get out!" he finally implored his torturer.

"All right, you just be quiet, I'll go. I know you don't like me. It's a shame, my friend, a real shame, to dislike your own brother. You see, I do love you. And I've always been telling my children, 'Though Pavel Vladimirych has sinned against me, yet I love him.' So you did not make any disposition? Well, that's fine, my friend. Sometimes, though, one's money is stolen while one is yet alive, especially when one is without relatives, all alone. But I'll take care of it. Eh? What? Am I annoying you? Well, well, let it be as you wish. I'll go. Let me offer up a prayer."

He rose, placed his palms together, and whispered a prayer hurriedly.

"Good-by, friend, don't worry. Take a good rest, and perhaps with God's help you will get better. I will talk the matter over with mother dear. Maybe we'll think something up. I have ordered a fish meal for myself, some salt-fish, some mushrooms and cabbage. So you'll pardon me. What? Am I annoying you again? Ah, brother dear! Well, well, I'm going. Above all, don't be alarmed, don't be excited, sleep well and take a good rest," he said, and finally made his departure.

"Bloodsucker!" The word came after him in such a piercing shriek that even he felt as if he had been branded with a hot iron.