"Mamma was a clever woman, mamma was," muses Porfiry Vladimirych. "She knew how to be exacting and how to set one at ease--that is why people served her so willingly. Still she was not without sins. Oh, yes, she had plenty of them." No sooner does Yudushka think of Arina Petrovna than she appears before him in person, coming straight from the grave. "I don't know, my friend, I don't know what fault you have to find with me," she says dejectedly, "it seems to me that I----" "I know, I know," Yudushka cuts her short unceremoniously. "Let me be frank and thrash out the matter with you. For instance, why did you not stop Aunt Varvara Mikhailovna that time?" "But how in the world could I stop her? She was of age, and she had the full right to dispose of herself." "Oh, no, permit me, mother dear. What sort of a husband had she? An old drunkard, not much of a man, I should say. Nevertheless, they had four children. Where did they come from, I'm asking you?" "But how strangely you speak, my friend. As if I were the cause of it all." "Cause or no cause, you could have influenced her. You ought to have treated her kindly, she would have been shamed by you. But you did the contrary. You kept on scolding her and calling her shameless, and you suspected almost every man in the neighborhood of being her lover. Of course, she kicked up the dust. It's a pity. The Goryushkino estate would have been ours now." "You cannot forget that Goryushkino," says Arina Petrovna, evidently brought to a standstill. "What do I care for Goryushkino? I don't need anything. If I have enough to buy a church candle and some oil for the image lamp, I am satisfied. But what about justice, dear mamma, justice? Yes, mother dear, I would be glad to hold my tongue, but I cannot help being frank with you. There's a sin on your conscience, a great sin, indeed." Arina Petrovna does not answer, and it is impossible to tell whether she is dejected or merely perplexed. "Another thing," Yudushka goes on, evidently reveling in mother dear's embarrassment. "Why did you buy a house for brother Stepan?" "I had to, my friend. I had to give him some share," says Arina Petrovna, trying to defend herself. "And he squandered it away, of course. As if you did not know him! You knew he was a loafer, a disrespectful, foul-mouthed scamp. And to think that you wanted to give him the Vologda village, too. A neat little estate with a nice little forest and a tiny lake, lying like a shelled egg--Christ be with it! It is well that I happened to be around and kept you from taking that imprudent step. Ah, mamma dear, mamma dear, how could you?" "But he was a son of mine, you understand? A son!" "I know, I understand very well. And still, I repeat, you ought not to have done it. You paid twelve thousand for the house--where is the money? And Goryushkino is worth at least fifteen thousand. So the loss comes to quite a sum." "Well, that will do, that will do. Don't be angry with me, please don't!"