All his father's ejaculations of pleasant surprise were met with silence, or a forced smile, and when Yudushka asked, "Why did it occur to you all of a sudden?" he answered even crossly, "It just occurred to me and here I am."
"Well, thank you, thank you for remembering your father. I am glad you came. I suppose you thought of grandmother, too?"
"Yes, I thought of grandmother, too."
"Hold on! Maybe you recollected that today is the Anniversary of your brother Volodenka's death?"
"Yes, I thought of that, too."
Thus the conversation went for about half an hour, so that it was impossible to tell whether Petenka were answering or dodging the questions. So, in spite of Yudushka's tolerance of his children's indifference to him, he could not refrain from remarking:
"Well, my child, you are not affectionate. One could hardly call you an affectionate son!"
Had Petenka kept silence this time also, had he taken his father's remark meekly, or better still, had he kissed his father's hand and said, "Excuse me, father dear, you know I am tired from the journey," things would have passed off pleasantly. But Petenka behaved like an ungrateful child.
"Yes, that's what I am," he answered gruffly. "Let me alone, please."
Then Porfiry Vladimirych felt so hurt, so wounded that he could not keep quiet any longer.