"Well, my girl, you are in for it. Take your medicine, try it and see how it tastes. Go ahead, just try it. I myself raised three sons and a daughter, and I buried five little ones--I ought to know. We are no better than slaves to those nasty men!" she added, slapping herself on the nape of her neck. Suddenly, she stopped, struck by a new idea. "Holy saints! If it isn't going to be in Lent! Wait, just a moment, let's figure it out." They began to figure on their fingers, they figured once, twice, a third time--it surely came out on a Lenten day. "So that's how it is. That's the kind of saint he is. Just wait, I'll tease the life out of him. A pretty mess for him! I'll tease him. My name is mud if I won't," jested Arina Petrovna. And truly, that very day, when all were gathered at evening tea, Arina Petrovna began to poke fun at Yudushka. "See what a trick our saint has played. Maybe it really is the wind that puffed your queen up. Well, brother, you've surprised me, I must say." At first Yudushka answered his mother's banter with grimaces of aversion, but seeing that Arina Petrovna spoke good-naturedly and meant no harm, he brightened up little by little. "You are wag, mother dear, you certainly are," he jested in his turn, though evading the real point. "Why call me a wag? We had better speak seriously about the matter. It's no joke, you know. It's a 'sacrament,' that's what it is. Though not a proper one but still----No, we've got to give it serious thought. What do you think; is she to stay here, or will you send her to the town?" "I don't know, mother, I don't know a thing, darling," said Porfiry Vladimirych evasively. "You are a wag, you certainly are." "Well, my girl, never mind, then. We'll talk it over, just the two of us, at leisure. We'll figure it out, and arrange things properly. These mean men--all they need is to satisfy their lust, and we, poor devils, we get the worst of it." Arina Petrovna felt in her element. She spent a whole evening discussing things with Yevpraksia and could have gone on indefinitely. Even her cheeks began to glow and her eyes to glitter youthfully. "You know, my dear, what it is? It's something divine, it is," she insisted. "Because, even if it isn't in the proper way, still it's the natural way. But you had better look out. If it comes during Lent--God save you! I'll tease you to death, I'll make this world too hot for you." Ulita was also called into the council. First matters of real importance were taken up; whether an injection was to be made or whether the abdomen was to be massaged with quicksilver salve. Then they turned to the favorite theme and figured on their fingers again--it came out on a Lenten day! Yevpraksia turned as red as a peony and did not deny it, but pleaded her subordinate position. "What could I do?" she said. "I must do what he wants me to do. If the master orders us to do something, we, poor devils, can't help but obey."