"Granny, I meant to borrow it from you. I'll pay good interest."
Arina Petrovna became thoroughly frightened.
"Oh no, no!" she protested. "I have only enough money for my coffin and memorial prayers. It's my granddaughters that keep me a-going, and my son, too. No, no, no! You'd better let me alone. Let me see—why not ask your papa?"
"Oh, well, you can't squeeze blood out of an onion. All my hope was in you, granny."
"Just think of what you are saying. I would gladly do it, but where am I to get the money from? I have no money at all. But suppose you ask father, you know, affectionately, respectfully. 'Here, father dear, such is the case. I know I am guilty, I am young and I made a blunder.' You know, with a smile and a laugh. Kiss his hand and fall on your knees, and cry a bit. He likes it. Then maybe father will untie his purse for his sonny dear."
"So you really think it's worth trying? Just a moment. See here, granny, suppose you say to him, 'If you don't give him the money I'll lay a curse on you!' He has always been afraid of your curse, you know."
"No, why curse? You can ask right out. Do ask him, my dear. There is no harm if you bow before your father once too many. He will understand your position, you know. Do it. Be sure to do it."
Petenka, his arms akimbo, walked back and forth as if deliberating. Finally he halted and said:
"No, I won't. He is not likely to give it—it's no use. No matter what I do, even if I smash my head in bowing—he won't do it. But you see, if you threatened him with your curse. What am I to do, granny?"
"I don't know, really. Try and perhaps you'll soften him a bit. How did you come to take such liberties? To lose crown money is no small matter. Did anybody inveigle you into it?"