CHAPTER VII

An odor of incense pervaded the rooms, the sing-song of funeral chants was heard in the house, the doors were thrown open, those wishing to pay their last respects to the deceased came and went. While Pavel Vladimirych lived, nobody had paid any attention to him; at his death everybody mourned. People recalled that he "had never hurt a single person," that "he had never uttered a cross word to anyone," nor thrown anyone a look of ill-will--all qualities that had appeared purely negative, but now assumed a positive character. Many seemed to repent that at times they had taken advantage of the dead man's simplicity--but after all, who knew that the simple soul was destined to so speedy an end? One peasant brought Yudushka three silver rubles and said: "Here's a little debt I owe Pavel Vladimirych. No writing passed between us. Here, take it."

Yudushka took the money, praised the peasant, and said he would donate the three silver rubles for oil to burn forever before an ikon in the church.

"You, my dear friend, will see the flame, and everybody will see it, and the soul of my deceased brother will rejoice. Maybe he will obtain something for you in Heaven. You won't be expecting anything--and suddenly the Lord will send you luck."

Very probably the high estimate of the deceased's virtues was largely based on a comparison between him and his brother. People did not like Yudushka. Not that they couldn't get the better of him, but that he was entirely too much of a nuisance with his scrape-penny ways. Very few could bring themselves to lease land from him. They were afraid of his passion for litigation. He dragged any number of people to court, wasted their time, and won nothing, because his pettifogging habits were so well known in the district that almost without listening to the case the courts dismissed his claims.

Since meanness, or, to be more exact, a kind of moral hardness, especially when under the mask of hypocrisy, always inspires a sort of superstitious fear, Yudushka's neighbors bowed waist low as they passed by the Bloodsucker, standing all in black beside the coffin with palms crossed and eyes raised upward.

As long as the deceased lay in the house, the family walked about on tip-toe, stole glances into the dining-room, where the coffin stood on the table, wagged their heads, and talked in whispers. Yudushka pretended to be overcome by the disaster, and shuffled painfully along the corridor, paid a visit to the "dear deceased," affected deep emotional stress, arranged the pall on the coffin, and whispered to the commissioner of police, who was taking the inventory and affixing the seal. Petenka and Volodenka busied themselves about the coffin, placing and lighting the candles, handing over the censer, and so forth. Anninka and Lubinka cried and through their tears helped the chanters sing the mass for the dead in thin little voices. The woman servants, dressed in black calico, wiped their noses red from weeping on their aprons.

Immediately after the death of Pavel Vladimirych, Arina Petrovna went up to her room and locked herself in. She was not disposed to weep, for she realized that she had to decide upon a course of action immediately. To remain at Dubrovino was out of the question. Consequently, she had only one choice, to go to Pogorelka, the orphans' estate, the "bone" that she had once thrown to her disrespectful daughter, Anna Vladimirovna. Arriving at this decision, she felt relieved, as though Yudushka had suddenly and forever lost all power over her. Calmly she counted her five per cent. Government bonds. They totalled fifteen thousand rubles of her own, and as much belonging to the orphans, which she had saved up for them. And she went on composedly to calculate how much money she would have to spend to put the Pogorelka manor-house in order. Then she immediately sent for the bailiff of Pogorelka, gave the necessary orders about hiring carpenters and sending a horse and cart to Dubrovino for her and the orphans' belongings, ordered the coach to be made ready (the coach was her own, and she had evidence that it was her very own), and began to pack. She felt neither hatred nor goodwill toward Yudushka. It suddenly became disgusting to her to have any dealings with him. She even ate unwillingly and little, because from that day she had to eat not Pavel's but Yudushka's food. Several times Porfiry Vladimirych peeped into her room to have a chat with his "mother dear." He understood the meaning of her packing clearly, but pretended to notice nothing. Arina Petrovna refused to see him.

"Go, my friend, go," she said. "I have no time."

In three days, Arina Petrovna had everything in readiness for departure. They heard mass, performed the funeral service, and buried Pavel Vladimirych. At the funeral everything happened just as Arina Petrovna had imagined on the morning when Yudushka came to Dubrovino. In the very way she had foreseen Yudushka cried out, "Farewell, brother!" when they lowered the coffin into the grave, and turned to Ulita and said hastily: "Don't forget--don't forget to take the kutya, and put it in the dining-room on a clean table cloth. We will honor brother's memory in the house, too."

Three churchmen, the Father Provost and a deacon, were invited to the dinner served, as is the custom, immediately on the return from the funeral ceremony. A special table was laid in the entrance hall for the sextons. Arina Petrovna and the orphans entered clad in travelling clothes, but Yudushka pretended even then not to understand. He went over to the table, requested the Father Provost to bless the food and drink, poured a glassful of vodka for himself and the churchmen, put on an air of deep emotion and said, "Everlasting memory to the late deceased! Ah, brother, brother, you have forsaken us! Who of us more than you was fit to live a happy life? How sad, brother, how sad!"

Then he crossed himself, and emptied the glass. He crossed himself again and swallowed a piece of caviar, crossed himself again and took a taste of dried sturgeon.

"Eat, Father," he urged the Provost. "All this is my late brother's stock. How the deceased loved good fare! Not only that he ate well himself, but he even liked treating others better. Ah, brother, brother, you have forsaken us! How wrong it was of you, brother, how very wrong!"

He was so carried away by his incessant chatter that he even forgot about his dear mother. But suddenly she came to his mind as he scooped up a spoonful of mushrooms and was about to send it down his mouth.

"Mother, dearest, darling!" he exclaimed. "I, the fool, am here, gorging myself. What a sin! Mother dear, help yourself. Some mushrooms. These are Dubrovino mushrooms. The famous ones."

But Arina Petrovna did not stir. She only shook her head in silence. She seemed listening to something with intense curiosity, a new light seemed to fill her eyes, as if the comedy to which she had long since become accustomed and in which she had always taken active part, suddenly presented itself to her in a changed light.

The dinner commenced with a brief, pathetic discussion. Yudushka insisted that Arina Petrovna should take the hostess's place at the head of the table. Arina Petrovna refused.

"No, you are the host here, so sit where you please," she said drily.

"You are the hostess. You, mother dear, are the hostess everywhere, both at Golovliovo and Dubrovino, everywhere," said Yudushka, trying to convince her.

"Do stop and sit down. Wherever it will be the Lord's will to place me as a mistress, I will sit where I choose. Here you are master--so you take the seat."

"Then this is what we'll do," said Yudushka, much moved. "We'll leave the cover at the host's seat untouched, as if our brother were with us, an invisible companion. He shall be host, and we shall all be his guests."

That is how they arranged it. While the soup was being served, Yudushka chose a proper subject and started a conversation with the priests, addressing most of his remarks, however, to the Father Provost.

"There are many people nowadays who do not believe in the immortality of the soul, but I do," he said.

"Well, they must be desperadoes," answered the Father Provost.

"Not, not that they are desperadoes, but there is is a science about the soul not being immortal. It says that man exists all by himself. He lives and then suddenly--dies."

"There are too many sciences nowadays--if only there were less of them. People believe in sciences and don't believe in God. Take the peasants--even the peasants want to become learned."

"Yes, Father, you are right. They do long to become learned. Take my Naglovo peasants. They have nothing to eat, and still the other day they passed a resolution--they want to open up a school. The scholars!"

"Nowadays there is a science for everything under the sun. One science for rain, another science for fine weather, and so on. Formerly it was a very simple matter. People would come and sing a Te Deum--and the Lord would grant them their prayer. If they needed fine weather, God would grant fine weather; if they needed rain, the Lord had enough of it to go round. God has enough of everything. But since people have begun to live according to science, everything has changed, everything happens out of season. You sow--there is drought; you mow--there is rain."

"You speak the truth, Father, the gospel truth. Formerly people used to pray more to God, and the earth was more plentiful. The harvests were not like now. They were four times, five times, richer. The earth produced in abundance. Doesn't mother remember? Don't you remember, mother dear?" asked Yudushka, turning to Arina Petrovna with the intention of drawing her into the discussion.

"I never heard anything like that in our parts. Maybe you're speaking of the land of Canaan. It is said that was really the case there," drily responded Arina Petrovna.

"Yes, yes, yes," said Yudushka, as if he had not heard his mother's remark, "they don't believe in God, they don't believe in the immortality of the soul, but they want to eat all the same."

"That's just it--all they want is to eat and drink," repeated the Father Provost, rolling up the sleeves of his cassock to reach a piece of the funeral pie and put it on his plate.

Everybody attacked the soup. For a while nothing was heard but the clink of the spoons on the plates and the puffing of the priests as they blew upon the hot liquid.

"Now as for the Roman Catholics," continued Yudushka, stopping to eat, "although they do not deny the immortality of the soul, yet they claim the soul does not land straight in hell or in heaven, but stays for a while in a sort of middle place."

"That, too, is preposterous."

"To tell you the truth, Father," said Porfiry Vladimirych, deep in thought, "if we take the point of view of----"

"There is no use discussing nonsense. How goes the song of our Holy Church? It says, 'In a grassy place, in a cool place, in which there is neither sighing nor sorrow.' So of what use is it to talk of a 'middle' place?"

Yudushka did not fully agree and wanted to make some sort of objection, but Arina Petrovna, growing annoyed at the conversation, stopped him.

"Well, eat, eat, you theologian. I guess your soup is cold by now," she said, and to change the topic she turned to the Father Provost. "Have you gathered in the rye yet, Father?"

"Yes, madam. This time the rye is good, but the spring wheat doesn't promise well. The young oat seeds are ripening too soon. Neither straw nor oats can be expected."

"They are complaining everywhere about the oats," sighed Arina Petrovna, watching Yudushka scoop up the last dregs of his soup.

Another dish was served, ham and peas. Yudushka took advantage of the opportunity to resume the broken conversation.

"I'll wager the Jews don't eat this," he said.

"Jews are dirty," responded the Father Provost. "So people mock them, calling them 'pig's ears.'"

"But the Tartars don't eat ham either. There must be some reason for it."

"The Tartars are dirty, too. That's the reason."

"We don't eat horse flesh, and the Tartars refuse pigs' meat. They say rats were eaten during the siege in Paris."

"Well, they were--French!"

The whole supper passed in this way. When carp in cream was served, Yudushka expatiated: "Fall to, Father. These are not ordinary carp. They were a favorite dish of my departed brother."

Asparagus being served, Yudushka said:

"Just look at that asparagus! You'd have to pay a silver ruble for asparagus like that in St. Petersburg. My deceased brother was so fond of it. Bless it, look how thick it is."

Arina Petrovna was boiling with impatience. A whole hour gone and only half the supper eaten. Yudushka seemed to hold it back on purpose. He would eat something, put down his knife and fork, chatter a while, eat a bit again, and chatter again. How often, in bygone days, had Arina Petrovna scolded him for it. "Why don't you eat, you devil--God forgive me." But he seemed to have forgotten her instructions. Or perhaps he had not forgotten them, but was acting that way on purpose, to avenge himself. Or maybe he wasn't even avenging himself consciously. He might just be letting his devilish inner self have free play. Finally the roast was served.

At the very moment that all rose and the Father Provost was beginning to intone the hymn about "the beatific deceased," a noise broke out in the corridor. Shouts were heard that entirely spoiled the effect of the prayer.

"What's that noise?" shouted Porfiry Vladimirych. "Do they take this for a public-house?"

"For mercy's sake, don't yell. That is my--those are my trunks. They are being transferred," responded Arina Petrovna. Then she added with a touch of sarcasm: "Perhaps you intend to inspect them?"

A sudden silence fell. Even Yudushka turned pale and became confused. He realized instantly, however, that somehow he had to soften the effect of his mother's unpleasant words. Turning to the Father Provost, he began:

"Take woodcocks for instance. They are plentiful in Russia, but in other lands----"

"For Christ's sake, why don't you eat? We've got twenty-five versts to go and make them before dark," Arina Petrovna cut him short. "Petenka, dear, go hurry them in there, and see that they serve the pastry."

For a few moments there was silence. Porfiry Vladimirych quickly finished his piece of woodcock. His face was pale, his lips trembled, and he sat tapping his foot on the floor.

"You insult me, mother dear. You hurt me deeply," he declared, finally, but avoided his mother's eyes.

"Who is insulting you? And how am I hurting you--so deeply?"

"It is very--very insulting. So insulting, so very insulting! To think of your going away--at such a moment! You have lived here all the time--and suddenly--and then you mention the trunks--inspection--what an insult!"

"Well, then, if you're anxious to know all about it, why, I'll satisfy you. I lived here as long as my son Pavel was alive. He died--and I leave. And if you want to know about the trunks, why, Ulita has been watching me for a long time at your orders. And concerning myself--it's better to tell your mother straight to her face that she's under suspicion than to hiss at her behind her back like a snake."

"Mother dear! But you--but I----" groaned Yudushka.

"You've said enough," Arina Petrovna cut him short. "And I've had my say."

"But, how could I, mother dear----"

"I tell you, I'm through. For Christ's sake, let me go in peace. The coach is ready, I hear."

The sound of tinkling bells and an approaching vehicle came from the courtyard. Arina Petrovna was the first to arise from the table. The others followed.

"Now let us sit down for a moment, and then we're off," she said, going towards the parlor.

They sat a while in silence. By that time Yudushka had entirely recovered his presence of mind.

"After all, why shouldn't you live at Dubrovino, mother dear? Just see how nice it is here," he said, looking into his mother's eyes with the caressing expression of a guilty cur.

"No, my friend, that's enough. I don't want to leave you with unpleasant words, but I can't stay here. What for? Father, let us pray."

Everybody rose in prayer, then Arina Petrovna kissed everybody good-by, blessed them all, and with a heavy step went toward the door. Porfiry Vladimirych, at the head of the company of relatives, went with her to the porch. There on seeing the coach, he was struck by a devilish idea. "Why, the coach belongs to my brother," was the thought that flashed through his mind.

"So we'll see each other, mother dear?" he said, helping his mother in and casting side glances at the coach.

"If it's the Lord's will--and why shouldn't we see each other?"

"Ah, mother, dear mother, that was a good joke, really! You had better leave the coach--and, with God's help, in your old nest--indeed," urged Yudushka in a wheedling tone.

Arina Petrovna made no answer. She had already seated herself and made the sign of the cross, but the orphans seemed to hesitate.

Yudushka, all the while, kept throwing glance after glance at the coach.

"How about the coach, mother dear? Will you send it back yourself or shall I send for it?" he blurted out, unable to retain himself longer.

Arina Petrovna shook with indignation.

"The coach is--mine!" she cried in a voice so full of pain that everyone felt embarrassed and ashamed. "It's mine! Mine! My coach! I--I have testimony--witnesses. And you--may you----No, I'll wait----We shall see what becomes of you. Children, are you ready?"

"For mercy's sake, mother dear! I have no grievance against you. Even if the coach belonged to this estate----"

"It is my coach--mine! It does not belong to Dubrovino, it belongs to me! Don't you dare to say it--do you hear me?"

"Yes, mother dear. Don't forget us, dear heart. Simply, you know, without ceremony. We will come to you, you will come to us, as becomes good kinsfolk."

"Are you seated, children? Coachman, go on!" cried Arina Petrovna, hardly able to restrain herself.

The coach quivered and rolled off quickly down the road. Yudushka stood on the porch waving his handkerchief and calling until the coach had entirely disappeared from view:

"As becomes good kinsfolk! We will come to you, and you to us--as becomes good kinsfolk!"