But Arina Petrovna was fully aware that the Bloodsucker was throwing a snare, and she flew into a rage. "Are you making sport of me?" she shouted. "I am discussing business, and he's trying to hoax me. Don't pull the wool over my eyes. Speak plainly. Do you want him to remain at Golovliovo, hanging around his mother's neck?" "Just so, dearest mother, if you please. Let him be where he is and make him sign a paper about the heritage." "So, so. I knew that was what you would advise. All right. God alone knows how it will pain me always to be having that creature around. However, it seems nobody will take pity on me. When I was young I bore my cross. Shall I refuse it in my old age? But there is still another point. While papa and I are alive, _he'll_ live at Golovliovo, and we won't let him starve. But how about afterwards?" "Dearest mother! Darling! Why such melancholy thoughts?" cried the Bloodsucker. "Melancholy or not, still one has to provide ahead. We aren't babies. When we die, what will become of him?" "Dearest mother! Can't you count on us, your children? Have we not been properly brought up by you?" Porfiry Vladimirych flashed on her one of those puzzling glances which had always made her uneasy, and went on: "The poor man, dear mamma, I shall help with greater joy than the rich. The rich man, Christ be with him, the rich man has enough of his own. But the poor man--you know what Christ said of the poor." Porfiry Vladimirych got up and kissed his mother's hand. "Dearest mamma, allow me to present my brother with two pounds of tobacco," he said entreatingly. Arina Petrovna did not answer. She looked at him and reflected: "Is he really such a Bloodsucker that he would turn his own brother out on the streets?" "Well, do as you please. Let him live at Golovliovo," she said finally, turning to Porfiry. "You have trapped me. You started with 'just as you please, dearest mamma,' and finished by dancing me on your wire. But let me tell you this, I hate him and he has disgraced and pestered me all his life, he has even dishonored my motherly blessing. Nevertheless, if you turn him out into the streets or make a beggar of him, you shall not have my blessing. No, no, no. Now you two go to him. The idiot is wearing out his silly eyes looking for you." The sons left. Arina Petrovna rose and watched them stride over the front yard to the counting-house without exchanging a word. Porfiry was constantly taking off his cap and crossing himself, now at the sight of the church, which shimmered afar off, now before the chapel, now before the wooden post to which a charity box was attached. As for Pavel, he seemed unable to take his eyes off his boot tips shining in the sunlight. "For whom have I been accumulating riches? Refused myself sleep and food--for whom?" she cried bitterly. CHAPTER V