In a word, in spite of all of Foka's protestations, Porfiry Vladimirych arranges the bargain to suit himself. But that is not enough. At the very moment that Foka consents to the terms of the loan, a thought flashes through Yudushka's mind. A certain Shelepikha meadow appears on the scene. It doesn't amount to much, hardly a desyatin to mow.
"You see, I am doing you a favor, so you do me one in turn," says Porfiry Vladimirych. "This is not interest, but just a favor. God does favors to us all, and we've got to do likewise to one another. You will mow this desyatin in no time, and I'll be much obliged to you. You see, brother, I am a plain man. You'll do me a ruble's worth of service, and I——"
Porfiry Vladimirych rises, faces the church, and makes the sign of the cross to show that the transaction is at an end. Foka also rises and makes the sign of the cross.
Foka has disappeared. Porfiry Vladimirych produces a sheet of paper, arms himself with the counting-board, and the beads begin jumping fast under his skilful fingers. Little by little an orgy of numbers commences. The whole world becomes enwrapped in mist. With feverish haste Yudushka passes from the paper to the counting-board and from the counting-board to the paper. The rows of figures keep growing larger and larger.
[BOOK VII]
THE SETTLEMENT
CHAPTER I
It is the middle of December. The country stretches still and benumbed, covered with a mantle of snow as far as the eye can reach. The horses, though pulling empty carts, wade with difficulty through the snow-drifts that the wind has driven during the night. There is not the trace of a path to the Golovliovo estate.