"You see, mother, the storm has abated," Yudushka began. "Yesterday there was such an uproar, but God only had to will it, and here we have a nice, bright, quiet day. Am I right, mother dear?" "I don't know. I haven't been out to-day." "By the way, we are going to see our dear guest off," continued Yudushka. "I rose early this morning, looked out of the window--it was still and quiet outdoors, as if God's angel had flown by and in a moment allayed the riot with his wings." But no one answered Yudushka's kindly words. Yevpraksia sipped her tea from the saucer, blowing and puffing. Arina Petrovna looked into her cup and was silent. Petenka, swaying in his chair, continued to eye his father with an ironical, defiant air, as if he had to exert great efforts to keep from bursting out laughing. "Even if Petenka does not ride fast, he will reach the railway station toward night," Porfiry Vladimirych resumed. "Our horses are not overworked. They will feed for a couple of hours at Muravyevo, and they will get him to the place in a jiffy. Ah, Petka, you are a bad boy! Suppose you stay with us a while longer--really. We would enjoy your company, and you would improve greatly in a week." But Petenka continued to sway in his chair and eye his father. "Why do you stare at me?" Yudushka flared up at last. "Do you see pictures on me?" "I'm just looking at you waiting for what's coming next." "No use waiting, my son. It will be as I said. I will not change my mind." A minute of silence followed, after which a whisper could be distinctly heard. "Yudushka!" Porfiry Vladimirych undoubtedly heard it, he even turned pale, but he pretended the exclamation did not concern him. "Ah, my dear little children," he said. "I should like to caress and fondle you, but it seems it can't be done--ill luck! You run away from your parents, you've got bosom friends who are dearer to you than father and mother. Well, it can't be helped. One ponders a bit over it, then resigns oneself. You are young folk, and youth, of course, prefers the company of youth to that of an old grouch. So, I resign myself and don't complain. I only pray to Our Father in Heaven, 'Do Thy will, oh Lord!'" "Murderer!" Petenka whispered, but this time so distinctly that Arina Petrovna looked at him in fright. Something passed before her eyes. It looked like the shadow of Simple Simon. "Whom do you mean?" asked Yudushka, trembling with excitement. "Oh, just an acquaintance of mine." "I see. Well, you'd better make that clear. Lord knows what's in your head. Maybe it is one of us that you style so."