CHAPTER III

The whole of the next day Porfiry Vladimirych remained in his study, praying to God for guidance. On the third day he emerged for morning tea, not in his dressing gown, as usual, but in full holiday attire, the way he always dressed when he intended to transact important business. His face was pale, but radiated inner serenity; a benign smile played upon his lips; his eyes looked kindly and all-forgiving. The tip of his nose was slightly red with elation.

He drank his three glasses of tea in silence, and between gulps moved his lips, folded his hands, and looked at the ikon as if, in spite of yesterday's vigil, he still expected speedy aid and intercession from it. Finally he sent for Ulita, and while waiting for her, kneeled again before the ikon, that he might once more strengthen himself by communion with God, and also that Ulita might see plainly that what was about to happen was not his doing, but the work of God. Ulita, however, as soon as she glanced at Yudushka, perceived there was treachery in the depth of his soul.

"Well, now I have prayed to God," began Porfiry Vladimirych, and in token of obedience to His holy will, he lowered his head and spread his arms.

"That's fine," answered Ulita, but her voice expressed such deep comprehension that Yudushka involuntarily raised his eyes.

She stood before him in her usual pose, one hand upon her breast, the other supporting her chin. But her face sparkled with suppressed laughter. Yudushka shook his head in sign of Christian reproach.

"I suppose God bestowed His grace upon you," continued Ulita, unperturbed by his gesture of warning.

"You always blaspheme," Yudushka blustered. "How many times have I warned you with kindness, and you are the same as ever. Yours is an evil tongue, a malicious tongue."

"It seems to me I haven't said anything. Generally when people have prayed to God, it means that God's grace is visited upon them."

"That's just it--'it seems!' But why do you prate about all that 'seems' to you? Why don't you learn how to hold your tongue when necessary? I am talking business and she--'it seems to me!'"

Instead of replying Ulita shifted from one foot to the other, as if to indicate that she knew everything Porfiry Vladimirych had to tell her by heart.

"Listen to me, you!" Yudushka began. "I prayed to the Lord all day yesterday, and to-day too, and--look at it from whatever angle you wish--we've got to provide for Volodka."

"Of course, you've got to provide for him. He is not a puppy, I dare say. You can't throw him into a pond."

"Wait a while! Let me say a word. You plague. So this is what I say. Take it any way you please, we've got to provide for Volodka. First, we must do it out of consideration for Yevpraksia and then we've got to make a man of him."

Porfiry Vladimirych glanced at Ulita in the hope that she might show her willingness to have a good long chat with him, but she took the matter plainly and even cynically.

"You mean me to take him to the foundling asylum?" she asked, looking straight at him.

"Oh, oh," exclaimed Yudushka, "you are very quick to decide. Oh, Ulita, Ulita! You always do things in a hurry and without due consideration. You're always ready to say something rash. How do you know? Maybe I don't intend to send him to the foundling asylum. Maybe I thought of something else for Volodka."

"Well, if you did, there's nothing bad about it."

"This is what I was going to say. On the one hand I feel for Volodka, but on the other hand, if you think the matter over and weigh it carefully, you see it's impossible to keep him here."

"Of course, what will people say? They'll say, 'How did a little baby boy come to the Golovliovo manor?'"

"Yes, they'll say that and other things. And besides, to stay here will be of no benefit to him. His mother is young, and she'll spoil him. I am old, and though I have nothing to do with the matter, still, in consideration of his mother's faithful service, I would also be easy with him. You can't help it, you know, the little fellow will have to be flogged for doing mischief, but how can you? It's this and that, and a woman's tears, and screams, and all. Am I right?"

"Yes, quite right. It is annoying."

"What I want is, that all should be well in our house. I want to see Volodka become a real man in time, a servant of God and a good subject of the Czar. If God wants him to be a peasant, I should like him to know how to plow, mow, chop wood--a little of everything. And if it will be his lot to be of a more exalted station, I want him to know some trade, some profession. Children from the foundling asylum sometimes rise to be teachers."

"From the foundling asylum? They are made generals at once, I suppose."

"Well, I wouldn't say generals, but still--maybe Volodka will live to be a famous man. And as to the manner they are brought up in there, it's excellent. I know all about it myself. Clean beds, healthy wet-nurses, white linen clothes, nipples, bottles, diapers, in a word, everything."

"Yes, it couldn't be better--for illegitimates!"

"And if he is placed in the country as a fosterchild, well, that will be just as good. He will get used to toil from his young days. Toil, you know, is as good as prayer. We, you see, pray in the regular way. We stand before the ikon, make the sign of the cross, and if our prayer pleases God, He rewards us for it. But the peasant--he toils. Sometimes he would be glad to pray in the proper way, but he hasn't the time for it. But God sees his labors and rewards him for his toil just as He rewards us for our prayers. We can't all live in palaces and go to balls and dances. Some of us must live in smoky hovels and take care of Mother Earth and nurse her. And as to where happiness lies, there are two guesses to it. Some live in palaces and in luxury, and yet shed tears; others live behind clay walls on bread and cider, yet feel as if they were in paradise. Am I right?"

"Nothing better if you feel as if you were in paradise."

"So, my dear, that's what we will do. Take that little rascal Volodka, wrap him up warm and cosy and go to Moscow at once with him. I'll order a roofed cart for you and a pair of good horses. The road is smooth, straight, fair, no puddles, no pitfalls. You'll roll along merrily. But see to it that everything is done in the best fashion, in Golovliovo fashion, just the way I like things to be done. The nipple should be clean, and the bottle, clothes, and sheets, and blankets, and diapers--take enough of everything. And if they won't give it all to you, come and tell me. When you get to Moscow, stop at an inn. Ask for enough to eat and a samovar and tea and all that. Oh, Volodka, dear! What trouble you are to me! It breaks my heart to part with you, but it can't be helped, my child. When you grow up, you'll see that it was for your own good, and you'll thank me for it."

Yudushka raised his hands slightly and moved his lips in sign of inner prayer. But that did not prevent him from glancing sideways at Ulita and noticing the sarcastic quivering of her face.

"Well, what--did you want to say something?"

"No, nothing. Of course, you know--he'll thank his benefactors--if he finds them."

"Oh, you wicked thing! You think we'll place him there without a proper card? Why, of course, you'll take out a card, from which document we'll be able to find him. They'll bring him up and teach him sense, and then we'll come with the card and say, 'Here, now, let's have our fellow, our Volodka.' With the card we'll get him from the bottom of the sea. Am I right?"

Ulita made no reply. The caustic quivering of her face showed more distinctly than before and it exasperated Porfiry Vladimirych.

"You are a mean thing," he said. "The devil dwells in you. Fi, fi! Well, enough. To-morrow, before the sun is up, you'll take Volodka and quickly, so that Yevpraksia does not hear you, and set out for Moscow. You know where the Foundling Asylum is?"

"I've carried them," Ulita answered laconically, as if hinting at something in the past.

"Well, if you are used to it--all the better for you. You must know all the ins and outs of the place. Be sure to place him there and bow low before the authorities--like this." Yudushka rose and bowed, touching the floor with his hands.

"Beg of them to make him comfortable. And be sure to get the card, don't forget! The card will help us find him anywhere. I'll allow you two twenty-five ruble bills for expenses. I know how it is--you'll have to give some here and put a couple of rubles there. Ah, ah, how sinful man is! We are all human beings, nothing but human beings! We all like sweets and dainties. Why, even our Volodka! Look at him--he is no bigger than my finger nail--and see the money I've already spent on him."

Yudushka crossed himself and bowed low before Ulita, silently begging her to take good care of the little rascal.

Thus, in the simplest way, was the future of the little illegitimate arranged for.

The next morning, while the young mother was tossing about in delirium, Porfiry Vladimirych was standing at the window in the dining-room, moving his lips and making the sign of the cross on the window pane. A cart, roofed over with mats, was leaving the front yard. It was carrying Volodka away.

It climbed up the hill, drove by the church, turned to the left and vanished in the village. Yudushka made another sign of the cross and sighed:

"The other day the priest was speaking about thawing weather," he said to himself, "but God sent us a frost instead. And a fine frost, at that. So it always is with us. We dream, we build castles in the air, we philosophize proudly and think we'll excel God Himself in His wisdom, but God in a trice turns our haughtiness of spirit into nothingness."