Meanwhile Porfisha kept on staring, quiet and meek, staring so intently
that his wide-open, motionless eyes began to swim in tears, as if
he vaguely sensed the doubts that tormented his mother's soul, and
wished to behave so as to disarm her most persistent suspicion. At the
risk of annoying his mother, he constantly hovered about her, and the
expression in his eyes seemed to say: "Look at me! I conceal nothing
from you. I am all obedience and devotion, and, mind you, I am obedient
and devoted not only from fear but also from loyalty." And although an
inner voice constantly sounded warning that the young scoundrel was
dangerous in spite of his wheedling and fawning, her heart could not
resist such unremitting devotion and her hand involuntarily felt for
the best piece in the dish to bestow upon the affectionate child. And
yet the very sight of him at times awakened a vague fear of something
puzzling and eery.
The exact opposite of Porfiry was his brother, Pavel, the most perfect
embodiment of absolute passivity. As a boy he manifested no inclination
whatever for study, or games, or playing with other boys, but liked
to keep to himself. He would get into a corner, pout, and set to work
building air castles, dreaming that he had gorged himself with oatmeal
so that his legs had become thin and he had no lessons to learn, or
else that he was Davidka, the shepherd, with a growing lump on his
forehead, just like David's, and cracked a whip and had no lessons to
learn. Arina Petrovna would gaze at him for a long time, and then her
motherly feelings would well up:
"Why do you sit there like a mouse on groats?" she would scold. "Is the
poison working in you already? Why don't you come over to your mother
and say: 'Mamenka darling, hug me?'"
Pavel would leave his place of refuge and slowly approach his mother,
as if someone were pushing him from behind. "Mamenka darling," he would
repeat in a bass voice unnatural in a child, "hug me."
"Get out of my sight, you sneak. You think if you get into your corner
I don't understand. You are mistaken, my darling. I see through and
through you. Your plans and projects are as clear as if they were
spread on the palm of my hand."
And Pavel would just as slowly retrace his steps and bury himself again
in his corner.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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