She produced an old pocketbook and took out two yellow bills.
"And here is all my property," she added, pointing to a small trunk. "Here's everything, both my inheritance and my own acquisitions. I am cold, Yevpraksia, very cold. I am quite sick, there's not a bone in my body that doesn't ache, and here as if to spite me, it is so cold. As I was riding, I thought of only one thing, to get to Golovliovo, and die there, at least in warmth. I'd like to have some vodka. Have you any?"
"You had better have some tea, madam. The samovar will soon be ready."
"No, I shall have tea later. Now I'd like to have some vodka. However, don't tell uncle about the vodka yet. It will all come out later."
While they set the table for tea in the dining-room Porfiry Vladimirych appeared. Now Anninka in her turn was completely surprised at her uncle's emaciation and wild, faded looks. Porfiry received Anninka in a strange manner, not coldly, but as if altogether indifferent. He spoke little, as if under compulsion, like an actor trying to recall sentences of parts acted in days gone by, and was absent-minded, as though his mind were absorbed in some grave, urgent business from which he had been torn away to attend to trifles.
"So you have arrived?" he said. "What will you have, tea, coffee? Order the servants to fetch it."
In former days, at family meetings, Yudushka always played the sentimental part. This time it was Anninka who was filled with emotions, genuine emotions. The claw of sorrow must have sunk deep into her being, for she threw herself on Porfiry Vladimirych's breast and embraced him ardently.
"Uncle, I have come to you!" she cried, and burst into tears.
"Well, you are welcome. I have enough rooms. Live here."
"I am sick, uncle, very, very sick."