CHAPTER V

Petenka rose early after a sleepless night. His harassed mind vacillated between hope and utter despair. Perhaps he did not really know his father, but one thing he was sure of, that there was not in him a single feeling, a single weak spot that could be grasped at and made use of. When face to face with his father, all he felt was something inexplicable. He did not know how to approach him, what to say first, and this made him very uneasy in his presence. It had been like that since his childhood. As far back as he could remember, it always seemed better not to attempt any forecast at all than to make a matter depend upon his father's decision. So now, too. How was he to begin? How was he to approach the matter? What was he to say first? And why had he come here at all?

A feeling of disgust seized him. Nevertheless he realized he had only a few hours left and something had to be done. Having worked himself up into a fair state of courage, he buttoned up his coat, and walked firmly to his father's study, whispering something to himself. Yudushka was saying prayers. He was pious, and every day gladly devoted a few hours to prayer, not because he loved God and hoped through prayer to enter into communion with Him, but because he feared the devil and hoped God would deliver him from the Evil One.

He knew many prayers and was especially versed in the technique of the poses and gestures of worship. He knew how to move his lips, how to roll his eyes, when it was proper to place the hands palm inward, and when they were to be lifted up, when to be moved with feeling, and when to stand with reverential calm and slowly make the sign of the cross. Even his eyes and his nostrils moistened at the proper moments. But prayer did not rejuvenate him, did not ennoble his feelings, or bring a single ray into his dull existence. He could pray and go through all the requisite bodily movements, and at the same time be looking out of the window to see if someone was entering the cellar without his permission. It was quite a distinct, particular function of life, which was self-sufficient and could exist outside of the general scheme of life.

When Petenka entered the study, Porfiry Vladimirych was on his knees with his hands raised. He did not change his position, but made a jerky movement with one of his hands to indicate that he had not yet finished. Petenka seated himself in the dining-room, where the table was already set for tea, and waited. The half hour that passed seemed like eternity, especially as he was sure his father was prolonging the wait intentionally. The studied coolness with which he had armed himself little by little gave way to vexation. At first he sat stiff, then began to walk to and fro, and finally fell to whistling airs. As a result, the door of the study opened, and Yudushka's irritated voice was heard calling:

"Whoever wants to whistle may do so in the stables."

After a while Porfiry Vladimirych came out clad all in black, in clean linen, as if prepared for a solemn occasion. His countenance was radiant, glowing, breathing meekness and joy, as if he had just been at communion. He approached his son, made the sign of the cross over him, and then kissed him.

"Good morning, friend," he said.

"Good morning."

"Did you sleep well? Was your bed made properly? Were there no little fleas and bedbugs to bother you?"

"Thank you. I slept well."

"Well, thanks to God, if you slept well. It's only at one's parents' home that one can sleep really well. I know it from my own experience. No matter how comfortable I might be at St. Petersburg, I could never sleep so well as at Golovliovo. You feel just as if you were rocked in a cradle. So what are we going to do? Shall we have some tea first, or do you want to say something now?"

"Let's talk it over now. I have to leave in six hours, and maybe we'll need some time for deliberation."

"Oh, well. But, my dear, I tell you directly, I never deliberate, my answer is always ready. If your request is a proper one, well, I never refuse anything proper. It may be hard on me at times, and I can't always afford it, but if it is proper, I can't refuse it. That's the kind of man I am. But if you ask for something that isn't right, I am sorry. Though I feel for you, I shall have to refuse. You observe, my son, I have no underhand ways. I am exactly as you see me. Well, then, let's go into the study. Speak and I will listen. Let's hear, let's hear what the matter is."

On entering the study, Porfiry left the door ajar and instead of seating himself and asking his son to be seated, he began pacing the room, as if instinctively feeling that the matter was delicate and it would be easier to discuss it while walking. The expression of one's face may be more easily concealed, and if the conversation takes a disagreeable turn it may be more readily cut off, and the door half ajar makes it possible to appeal to witnesses; for mother dear and Yevpraksia were sure to come into the dining-room before long to have tea.

"Papa," blurted out Petenka, "I lost some crown money at cards."

Yudushka said nothing, but his lips quivered, and he immediately fell to muttering, as was his habit.

"I lost three thousand," explained Petenka, "and if I don't return the money the day after tomorrow, there may be very disagreeable consequences for me."

"Well, refund the money," said Porfiry Vladimirych affably.

Father and son made a few turns around the room in silence. Petenka wished to make further explanations, but felt a lump rising in his throat.

"Yes, but where am I to get the money from?" he said at last.

"My dear friend, I don't know your resources. Pay it back from the resources you figured on when you gambled crown money away."

"You know very well that in such cases people forget about their resources."

"I don't know a thing, my friend. I never played cards, except with mother, when I play fool to amuse the old woman. And please don't drag me into this dirty business, and let's go and have tea. We'll have tea and sit around, maybe we'll talk about something, but, for the Lord's sake, not about that."

Yudushka started to make for the door and into the dining-room, but Petenka stopped him.

"Look here," he said, "I have to get out of this predicament somehow."

Yudushka grinned and stared at Petenka.

"Yes, my dear, you have to," he agreed.

"Then help me."

"Ah, that's a different matter. You have to get out of the difficulty somehow, to be sure, but how to get out of it--well, that's none of my business."

"But why don't you want to help me?"

"First, because I have no money to cover up your dastardly deeds, and secondly because the entire matter does not concern me in the least. You knew how to get in, then know how to get out. The cat likes fish, then let her wet her feet. You see, my boy, that's just what I said at the start, that if your request is a proper one----"

"I know. You've got a lot of words on the tip of your tongue."

"Wait, save your impudent remarks, and let me say what I wish to say. That they are not mere words I'll prove to you in a minute. So, as I said a while ago, if your request is a proper, a sensible one, all right, my boy. I am always ready to satisfy you. But if you come to me with an unreasonable request, I am very sorry, I have no money for stuff and nonsense. No sir, never. And you won't get any--you may as well be sure of it. And don't dare tell me I use mere words. My words are mighty near deeds."

"But think what will become of me."

"Whatever pleases God, that will happen," answered Yudushka, slightly lifting up his arms and looking sideways at the ikon.

Father and son again made a few turns across the room. Yudushka paced reluctantly, as if in complaint that his son was holding him in captivity. Petenka, his arms akimbo, followed him, biting his moustache and smiling nervously.

"I am your last son," he said. "Don't forget that."

"My boy, God bereft Job of everything, and Job did not complain, but only said: 'God hath given and God hath taken away--may thy will be done, oh, Lord!' So, my boy."

"In the Bible it was God that took, and here you take away from yourself. Volodya----"

"Oh, well, you are talking nonsense."

"No, it isn't nonsense, it's the truth. Everybody knows that Volodya----"

"No, no, no! I don't want to listen to your preposterous remarks. 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.