She could not finish. Tears began to fall from her eyes.
Alexandr jumped up from his place. "Mamma," he said.
" There, sit down, sit down !" she replied, hastily wiping away her tears. " I have still a great deal more to talk to you about. What was I going to say? It's gone out of my head. You see what a memory I have. Ah! keep the fasts, my dear. That is a great thing ! On Wednesdays and Fridays, God will pardon it, but Lent—God forbid ! Look at Mikhailo Mikhailitch, he thought himself an enlightened man, but what happened to him ? Festival and fast alike— he eat as greedily as ever. It positively makes my hair stand on end. He gave to the poor to be sure, but was his charity acceptable to the Lord ? They say he once gave a sovereign to an old man; he took it to be sure, but turned his back and spat. All bowed to him, and God knows what they said to his face, but behind his back they crossed themselves when they thought of him, as though he were a devil."
Alexandr listened with some impatience and gazed from time to time out of window at the distant road.
She was silent for a minute.
" Take care of your health before all things," she continued. " If you are seriously ill—which God forbid !— write. I will make a great effort and come to you. Who would look after you in Petersburg ? Why they would even seize the opportunity to rob you in your sickness. Don't go into the streets after dark; keep away from ferocious-looking people. Take care of your money—save it for a rainy day. S pend it reasonably. From money—the acqursed thing—comes_every thi ng go o(f a"nft""gvrt'.~" DonX be^Ttraragaht: "don 't w aste Tt on_ needless. whims t "*You will receive from me, without fail, two thousand five hundred roubles a year. Two thousand five hundred roubles is no small matter. Don't spend it on any kind of luxury, nothing of that sort, only don't deny yourself anything you can have; if you want any dainty, don't grudge the money. Don't give way to wine; ah, it is the greatest enemy of mankind! And," here she dropped her voice, " beware of women L J kno w them. There are creatures so s &ame-less, that thejL^iU throw themselves o n yo ur ne ck wh en they see such a——" She Tooked lovingly at her son.
" That's enough, mamma; isn't it time I had my breakfast?" he asked almost with vexation.
"Directly—directly—now one word more. Don't set y our heart on the wife of anot h er/' she went on hurrie dly. * "t hat is a great sin ! ' Jjo not covet your neighbour's wife* is written, in irjgjicriptujes. If any woman there tries to giThold of you—to marry you—God forbid!—don't dare to think of it! They will be ready to entrap you, when they see you have money and are good-looking. I daresay at your chiefs or at some other distinguished and wealthy grandee's, they will set their caps at you and try to make a match for their daughters. Well, then, it might be, only write to me. I will come somehow and will see that they are not palming off just any girl on you, simply to get rid of her, some old maid or poor creature. Every one will try to make up to a match like you. But if you yourself fall in love, and she proves to be a good girl—well then," here she lowered her voice, "Sonushka need not be considered." (The old woman in her love for her son was ready even to act against her conscience.) " After all, what was Maria Karpovna thinking about ? Her ) daughter is no match for you. A country girl! There » are others besides her who would be glad to get hold of you."
" Sophia—no, mamma—I shall never forget her," said ( Alexandr.
"Well, well, my dear, never mind, I only mentioned it. Work a little in your situation, come home here and then, as God sees fit—there are always plenty of girls. If you don't forget her—well, then. But if "
She wanted to say more, but had not the heart; and bending to his ear she asked softly, " And will you remember—your mother ? "
" See what you've worked yourself up to," he interrupted, " please let them serve what you have, omelet or whatever it is. Forget you; how could you imagine such a thing ? May God punish me!"
"Hush, hush, Sasha," she broke in quickly; "why are you calling down such things on your head ? No, no, whatever happens, if such a thing comes to pass, let me suffer alone. You are young, you are only beginning life, you will have friends, you will marry—a young woman will
f
fill the place of your mother and of every one for you. No, may God bless you as I bless you !"
She kissed him on the forehead and so ended her sermon
" But why is it nobody comes ? " she said. " Not Maria Karpovna, nor Anton Ivanitch nor the priest are come. The mass must be over by now, I should think. Ah, here is some one coming! Anton Ivanitch, I fancy—yes, it is he; speak of the devil "
Who does not know Anton Ivanit ch ? He is a Wandering Jew. He has existed always, everywhere, from "the niSst ancient times, and has never become extinct. He was present at the Greek and Roman symposiums, and certainly tasted the fatted calf killed by the happy father on the return of the Prodigal Son.
Among us in Russia he takes various forms. The one in question had twelve serfs mortgaged over and over again; he lived almost in a hut, a kind of queer building resembling a loghouse—the entrance somewhere behind over some timber, close up to the hedge; but for twelve years he had been continually declaring that in the following spring he would start building a new house. He kept no housekeeper in his house. There was not a man of his acquaintance who had dined, supped or drunk a cup of tea in his house, but also there was not a man with whom he had not dined, supped or drunk tea fifty times a year. In days gone by Anton Ivanitch used to walk about in loose pantaloons and a full skirted overcoat, now he wears on weekdays a surtout and trousers, on holidays, a frock-coat—of what sort of cut God only knows. In figure he is fat, because he has no sorrows, no cares, no emotions, though he pretends that he spends his whole life in the sorrows and cares of others; but it is well-known that the sorrows and cares of others do not make us thin; that is a fact admitted on all hands.
In reality Anton Ivanitch was never of use to any one, yet without him not a single ceremony took place, not a wedding, nor a funeral. He was at all the formal dinners and evening parties and at all family gatherings; no one would stir a step without him. You may imagine perhaps that he was very useful, giving good advice here, arranging some difficulty there. Not a bit of it! No-one had ever
entrusted him with anything of the kind; he understood nothing, could do nothing; could not manage a matter in the law courts, could not act as go-between or mediator, could do absolutely nothing.
But yet they did commission him sometimes to call in and take a polite message from such a one to such a one, and he takes it without fail and seizes the opportunity to get a breakfast there ; or to inform such a one that certain papers have been received, but their exact nature they would not confide to him; or to take somewhere a little jar of honey or a handful of seeds with the precept " not to spill and not to spoil; " or to carry congratulations on some one's birthday. And they employ Anton Ivanitch, too, in such matters as they consider it unsuitable to leave to a servant. "We can't send Petrushka, he would be sure to make a mistake about it. 'No, better let Anton Ivanitch go with it! It would never do to send a man ; so and so would be offended, better get Anton Ivanitch to go!"