The boys stared at the orphans, fairly swallowing them with their gaze, while the little orphans sat in silent envy. "Did you see Mademoiselle Lotar, cousin?" Petenka started a conversation. Anninka and Lubinka exchanged glances as if they had been asked a question in history or geography. "In _Fair Helen_ she plays the part of Helen on the stage." "Oh, yes--Helen--Paris--'Beautiful and young; he set the hearts of the goddesses aflame--' I know, I know it," cried Lubinka joyfully. "Exactly. And how she sings 'Cas-ca-ader, ca-as-cader.' It's great." "The doctor who was just here keeps humming '_Head over heels._'" "That is Lyadova's song. Wasn't she splendid, cousin? When she died, nearly two thousand persons followed the hearse. People thought there would be a revolution." "Is it about theatres you're chattering?" broke in Arina Petrovna. "Well, their destiny lies far from theatres, my boys. It leads rather to the convent." "Granny, you've set your mind on burying us in a convent," complained Anninka. "Come, cousin, let's go to St. Petersburg instead of to a convent. We'll show you everything to be seen there." "Their minds should not be occupied with thoughts of pleasure, but rather with thoughts of God," continued Arina Petrovna sententiously. "We will teach you everything under the sun. In St. Petersburg there are lots of girls like you. They walk about swinging their skirts." "Stop bothering them, for Christ's sake, you teachers," Arina Petrovna interjected. "Nice things you can teach them." "I'm going to take them to Khotkov, after Uncle Pavel's death, and we'll settle down comfortably there." "So you're still at your blabbing," a voice at the door suddenly broke in. Engrossed in conversation nobody had heard Yudushka steal up "like a thief in the night." He was all in tears, his head was bowed, his face pale, his hands crossed on his breast, his lips mumbling in prayer. For a few moments his eyes sought the ikons, then found them and for a brief while he prayed. "He's very ill. Ah, how ill he is!" he finally exclaimed, embracing his mother dear. "Is he?" "Very, very ill, dear heart. And do you recollect what a strong fellow he was?" "Well, he was never exactly strong. I can't remember that, somehow." "Ah no, mother dear, don't say that. He was, always. I remember perfectly when he left the cadets corps how well shaped he was, broad shouldered, glowing with health. Yes, yes, mother dear, that's how it is. We're all in God's hands. To-day we're strong, in the best of health, we want to enjoy life to have a good meal, and tomorrow.... He shrugged his shoulders and assumed deep emotion. "Did he say anything at least?" "Very little, dearest. The only thing he said was, 'Good-by, brother.' And yet, mother dear, he can feel. He feels that he is in a bad way." "Well, no wonder he feels he is in a bad way when he can hardly catch his breath."