Yudushka came early the next morning. Arina Petrovna was considerably worse. He put the servants through a cross-examination as to what mother had eaten and whether she had not overeaten. But Arina Petrovna had eaten almost nothing for a whole month, and had refused all food the previous day. Yudushka expressed his grief, waved his hands, and like a good son, warmed himself at the oven in the maids' room so that he would not bring the cold into the patient's room. At the same time he began to give orders and make arrangements. He had an extraordinary keenness for scenting death. He made inquiries as to whether the priest was home and arranged that in case of emergency he should be sent for at once. He informed himself where mother's chest with her papers was, whether it was locked, and having satisfied himself concerning the state of things, he called in the cook and ordered dinner for himself.
"I need but little," he said. "Have you got a chicken? Well, prepare some chicken soup. If you have some cured beef, get a bit of cured beef ready. Then something fried, and I'll have enough."
Arina Petrovna lay prostrate on her back with her mouth open, breathing heavily. Her eyes were staring wide. One hand projected from under the quilt of hare's fur and hung stiff. She was evidently alive to the commotion incident upon her son's arrival, and perhaps his orders even reached her ears. The lowered window-shades put the room in twilight. The wicks were flickering their last at the bottom of the ikon lamps and sputtered audibly at contact with the water. The air was close and fetid, unbearably suffocating from the overheated stoves, the sickening smell of the ikon lamps, and the breath of illness. Porfiry Vladimirych, in his felt boots, glided to his mother's bed like a snake. His tall, lean figure wrapped in twilight swayed uncannily. Arina Petrovna with a look half of surprise and half of fright followed his movements and huddled under her quilt.
"It is I, mother dear," he said. "What's the matter with you? You are all out of gear today. My, my, my! No wonder I could not sleep all night. Something seemed to urge me on. 'Let's go and see,' I thought, 'how our Pogorelka friends are getting along.' I got up in the morning, hitched a couple of horses to the pony cart, and here I am!"
Porfiry Vladimirych tittered affably, but Arina Petrovna did not answer, and drew herself together in a closer coil under her quilt.
"Well, God is merciful, mother dear," continued Yudushka. "The main thing is to stand up for yourself. Don't put any stock in the ailment. Get up and take a walk through the room, like a sound, hale person. You see, just like this."
Porfiry Vladimirych rose from his seat and demonstrated how sound, hale persons walk.
"Oh, just a moment. I'll raise the window-shade and take a good look at you. Oh, but you are first rate, my darling. Just pluck up some courage, say your prayers, doll up, get into your Sunday best, and you'll be ready for a dance. There, I have brought you some jolly good holy water, just taste some."
Porfiry Vladimirych took a flask out of his pocket, found a wine glass on the table, filled it and gave it to the patient. Arina Petrovna made an effort to lift her head, but in vain.
"I wish the orphans were here," she moaned.