"Well, what's to be done? I can't compel her. Select some one else. If you can't find one at home, go to another village. I will pay for her, only she must come of her own free will. It is impossible to marry her by force. There's no law allows that; that would be a great sin." "_E-e-kh!_ benefactor! Is it possible that any one would come to us of her own accord, seeing our way of life, our wretchedness? Not even the wife of a soldier would like to undergo such want. What peasant would let us have his daughter?[39] It is not to be expected. You see we're in the very depths of poverty. They will say, 'Since you starved one to death, it will be the same with my daughter.' Who is to give her?" she added, shaking her head dubiously. "Give us your advice, excellency." [Footnote 39: _dyevka_, marriageable girl.] "Well, what can I do?" "Think of some one for us, kind sir," repeated Arína urgently. "What are we to do?" "How can I think of any one? I can't do any thing at all for you as things are." "Who will help us if you do not?" said Arína, drooping her head, and spreading her palms with an expression of melancholy discontent. "Here you ask for grain, and so I will give orders for some to be delivered to you," said the prince after a short silence, during which Arína sighed, and Davidka imitated her. "But I cannot do any thing more." Nekhliudof went into the entry. Mother and son with low bows followed the prince. XII. "O-okh! alas for my wretchedness!" exclaimed Arína, sighing deeply. She paused, and looked angrily at her son. Davidka immediately turned around, and, clumsily lifting his stout leg incased in a huge dirty boot over the threshold, took refuge in the opposite door. "What shall I do with him, father?" continued Arína, turning to the prince. "You yourself see what he is. He is not a bad man;[40] doesn't get drunk, and is peaceable; wouldn't hurt a little child. It's a sin to say hard things of him. There's nothing bad about him, and God knows what has taken place in him to make him so bad to himself. You see he himself does not like it. Would you believe it, father,[41] my heart bleeds when I look at him, and see what suffering he undergoes. You see, whatever he is, he is my son. I pity him. Oh, how I pity him!... You see, it isn't as though he had done any thing against me or his father or the authorities. But, no: he's a bashful man, almost like a child. How can he bear to be a widower? Help us out, benefactor," she said once more, evidently desirous of removing the unfavorable impression which her bitter words might have left upon the prince. "Father, your excellency, I"--She went on to say in a confidential whisper, "My wit does not go far enough to explain him. It seems as though bad men had spoiled him." [Footnote 40: _muzhík._] [Footnote 41: _bátiushka._] She paused for a moment. "If we could find the men, we might cure him." "What nonsense you talk, Arína! How can he be spoiled?"