"Well, what news? What do they say in St. Petersburg?" was her first question, after mutual greetings had been exchanged. Porfiry cast down his eyes and sat speechless. "No, you must consider my circumstances," continued Arina Petrovna, gathering from her son's silence that good news was not to be expected. "Right now in the maids' room I have about thirty of these creatures. What shall I do with them? If they remain in my care, what am I going to feed them on? At present I have a little cabbage, a little potatoes, some bread, enough of everything; and we manage somehow to make both ends meet. If the potatoes give out, I order cabbage to be cooked; if there is no cabbage, cucumbers have to do. But now, if I have to run to market for everything and pay for everything, and buy and serve, how am I ever to provide for such a crowd?" Porfiry gazed into the eyes of his "mother dear" and smiled bitterly as a sign of sympathy. "And then, if the government is going to turn them loose, give them absolute leeway--well, then, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know what it will come to." Porfiry smiled as if there were something very funny in "what it was coming to." "Don't you laugh. It is a serious matter, so serious that if only the Lord grants them a little more reason, only then--Here's my case, for instance. I am by no means an old rag, am I? I must have my bread and butter, too, mustn't I? How am I to go about getting it? Think of the bringing-up we received. The only thing we know is how to dance and sing and receive guests. Then how am I going to get along without those wretches, I'd like to know. I can't serve meals or cook. I can't do a thing." "God is merciful, mother dear." "He used to be, but not now. When we were good, the Almighty was merciful to us; when we became wicked, well, we mustn't complain. I'm beginning to think that the best thing for me is to throw everything to the dogs. Really, I'll build myself a little hut right next to father's grave, and that's where I'll spend the rest of my days." Porfiry Vladimirych pricked up his ears. His mouth began to water. "And who will manage the estates?" he questioned, carefully throwing his bait, as it were. "Why, you boys will have to manage them yourselves. Thank God, I have provided plenty. I ought not carry the whole burden alone." Arina Petrovna suddenly stopped and raised her head. Her eyes fell on Yudushka's simpering, drivelling, oily face, all suffused with a carnivorous inner glow. "You seem to be getting ready to bury me," remarked Arina Petrovna drily. "Isn't it a bit too early, darling? Look out, don't make a mistake." Thus the matter ended in nothing definite. But there are discussions which, once begun, never really come to an end. A few hours later Arina Petrovna renewed the conversation. "I'll leave for the Trinity Monastery," she dreamed aloud. "I'll divide up the estate, buy a little cottage on the grounds and settle there."