Yudushka remained the fool with as many as eight cards on his hands, among them the ace, king and queen of trumps. Peals of laughter rose, Yudushka was displeased, but he affably joined in the merriment. In the midst of the general excitement, Arina Petrovna suddenly grew silent and listened attentively.
"Stop, be quiet. Somebody is coming," she said.
Yudushka and Yevpraksia listened, but heard no sound.
"I tell you, somebody is coming. Listen, listen! Someone is coming and he is not far off."
They listened again, and surely there was a faint tinkling in the distance, which the wind brought nearer one moment and carried away the next. Five minutes later the bells were distinctly heard. The sound of them was followed by voices in the court-yard.
"The young master, Piotr Porfirych, has arrived," came from the antechamber.
Yudushka rose, and remained standing, dumfounded and pale as death.
CHAPTER IV
Petenka walked in looking flabby and dispirited, kissed his father's hand, observed the same ceremony with his grandmother, then bowed to Yevpraksia, and sat down. He was about twenty-five, rather good-looking, in an army officer's travelling uniform. That was all one could say about him. Even Yudushka knew scarcely more. The relations of father and son were not of the kind one could call strained. There simply were no relations, you might say. Yudushka knew Petenka to be a man who in the eyes of the law was his son and to whom he had to send a certain allowance determined by Yudushka himself, in consideration of which he was entitled to homage and obedience. Petenka, on the other hand, knew that he had a father who could make things unpleasant for him at any time he wished. He made trips to Golovliovo quite willingly, especially since he had become a commissioned officer, not because he greatly enjoyed his father's company, but simply because every man who is not clearly conscious of his aim in life instinctively gravitates to his native place. But now, apparently, he had come because he had been obliged to come, and consequently manifested not a single sign of the joyous perplexity with which every prodigal son of the gentry celebrates his arrival home. Petenka was not talkative.