"Wait for the owners," he told the people gathered in the hallway to see him off. "If they come, they'll be welcome; if they don't—just as they please. For my part, I did all I could. I straightened out the guardianship accounts and hid nothing. Everything was done in plain view, in front of everybody. The money that mother left belongs to me legally. The coach and the two cows that I sent to Golovliovo are mine by law. Maybe some of my property is left here. However, I won't insist on it. God Himself commands us to give to orphans. I am sorry to have lost mother, she was a good old woman, a kindly soul. Oh, mother dear, it was not right of you, darling, to have left us poor orphans. But if it had pleased God to take you, it befits us to submit to His holy will. May, at least, your soul rejoice in heaven, and as for us—well, we are not to be considered."
The first death was soon followed by another.
Yudushka's attitude toward his son's fate was quite puzzling. Since he did not receive newspapers and was not in correspondence with anybody, he could not learn anything of the trial in which Petenka figured. And he hardly wished to. Above all things, he shunned disturbance of every kind. He was buried up to his ears in a swamp of petty details, all centering around the welfare and preservation of his precious self. There are many such people in this world. They live apart from the rest of humanity, having neither the desire nor the knowledge to identify themselves with a "cause," and bursting in the end like so many soap bubbles. They have no ties of friendship, for friendship presupposes the existence of common interests; nor do they have any business connections. For thirty years at a stretch Porfiry Vladimirych had marked time in a government office. Then, one fine day he disappeared, and no one noticed the fact.
He learned of his son's fate after his domestics had. But even then he feigned ignorance, so that when Yevpraksia once tried to mention Petenka, he waved her off and said:
"No, no, no! I don't know, I did not hear anything, and I don't want to hear anything. I don't want to know a thing about his dirty affairs."
But finally he did learn about Petenka. He received a letter from him saying he was about to leave for one of the remote provinces and asking his father to continue to send him an allowance in his new position. The whole of the next day Porfiry Vladimirych was in a state of visible perplexity. He darted from room to room, peeped into the oratory, crossed himself, and sighed. But toward evening he plucked up courage and wrote the following letter:
"My criminal son Piotr:
"As a faithful and law-abiding subject I should not even answer your letter. But as a father given to human weaknesses, I cannot, from a sense of compassion, refuse good advice to a child who, through his own fault, plunged himself into a whirlpool of evil.
"Here, in short, is my opinion on the subject. The punishment that has been meted out to you is severe, but you quite deserve it. That is the first and most important consideration that should always accompany you in your new life from now on. All your other vagaries and even the memory thereof you must forget, for in your present situation all this will only tend to irritate you and urge you on to impious complaint. You have already tasted of the bitter fruits of haughtiness of spirit. Try now to taste of the fruits of humility, all the more so since there is nothing else left for you in the future. Do not complain of the punishment, for the authorities do not even punish you, but only provide means for your correction. To be grateful for this, and to endeavor to make amends for what you did—that is what you must incessantly bear in mind, and not the luxurious frittering away of time, which I myself, by the way, never did, although I was never under indictment. So follow this prudent advice of mine and turn over a new leaf, satisfied with what the authorities, in their kindness, will deem it necessary to allot to you. I, for my part, will pray the Giver of all things good to grant you firmness and humility. Even on the very day on which I write these lines I have been to church and offered up fervent prayers for you. And now, I bless you for the new journey and remain, your indignant but still loving father, Porfiry Golovliov."
It is uncertain whether the letter ever reached Petenka, but no more than a month after it was sent, Porfiry Vladimirych was officially notified that his son, while on his way to the place of exile, had fallen ill and died in a hospital.
Yudushka remained alone, but at first did not realize that this new loss had made his life an absolute void. The realization came soon after the death of Arina Petrovna, when he was all absorbed in reckoning and figuring. He read every paper of the deceased, took into account every kopek, traced the relation of this kopek to the kopeks of the guardianship, not wishing, as he put it, either to acquire another's, or to lose his own. Amidst this bustle the question never once arose in his mind: To what end was he doing all this, and who was to enjoy the fruits of his busy hoarding?
From morning to night he bent over his desk musing and criticizing the arrangements of the deceased. Engrossed in these cares he began little by little to neglect the bookkeeping of his own estate.