‘You’d like to be always idling about with a gun! In my young days I used to be inclined the same way too. Only my father was strict and made me respect him too. Mind you, very different from fathers nowadays. My father flogged me with a horsewhip, and that was the end of it! I’d to give up idling about! And so I respected him.… Oo!… Yes!…’ Harlov paused again. ‘Don’t you stop here,’ he began again. ‘You go along to the house. Things are managed there now--it’s first-rate. Volodka’.… Here he faltered for a second. ‘Our Volodka’s a good hand at everything. He’s a fine fellow! yes, indeed, and a fine scoundrel too!’ I did not know what to say; Martin Petrovitch spoke very tranquilly. ‘And you go and see my daughters. You remember, I daresay, I had daughters. They’re managers too … clever ones. But I’m growing old, my lad; I’m on the shelf. Time to repose, you know.…’ ‘Nice sort of repose!’ I thought, glancing round. ‘Martin Petrovitch!’ I uttered aloud, ‘you really must come and see us.’ Harlov looked at me. ‘Go along, my lad, I tell you.’ ‘Don’t hurt mamma’s feelings; come and see us.’ ‘Go away, my lad, go away,’ persisted Harlov. ‘What do you want to talk to me for?’ ‘If you have no carriage, mamma will send you hers.’ ‘Go along!’ ‘But, really and truly, Martin Petrovitch!’ Harlov looked down again, and I fancied that his cheeks, dingy as though covered with earth, faintly flushed. ‘Really, do come,’ I went on. ‘What’s the use of your sitting here? of your making yourself miserable?’ ‘Making myself miserable?’ he commented hesitatingly. ‘Yes, to be sure--making yourself miserable!’ I repeated. Harlov said nothing, and seemed lost in musing. Emboldened by his silence, I determined to be open, to act straightforwardly, bluntly. (Do not forget, I was only fifteen then.) ‘Martin Petrovitch!’ I began, seating myself beside him. ‘I know everything, you see, positively everything. I know how your son-in-law is treating you--doubtless with the consent of your daughters. And now you are in such a position.… But why lose heart?’ Harlov still remained silent, and simply dropped in his line; while I--what a sensible fellow, what a sage I felt! ‘Doubtless,’ I began again, ‘you acted imprudently in giving up everything to your daughters. It was most generous on your part, and I am not going to blame you. In our days it is a quality only too rare! But since your daughters are so ungrateful, you ought to show a contempt--yes, a contempt--for them … and not fret----’ ‘Stop!’ muttered Harlov suddenly, gnashing his teeth, and his eyes, staring at the pond, glittered wrathfully.… ‘Go away!’ ‘But, Martin Petrovitch----’ ‘Go away, I tell you, … or I’ll kill you!’ I had come quite close to him; but at the last words I instinctively jumped up. ‘What did you say, Martin Petrovitch?’