Pavel Vladimirych lay motionless, coughing softly. He did not betray by a single movement whether or not he was listening. Apparently his mother was boring him.
"The capital may go from hand to hand during life," said Arina Petrovna, as though passing a trivial remark and resuming the inspection of her hands.
The patient shuddered slightly, but Arina Petrovna did not notice it and continued:
"The law, my friend, expressly permits the free transfer of capital. Money is something one acquires. Yesterday you had it. To-day it is gone. And nobody can call you to account for it. You can give it to whomever you choose."
Pavel Vladimirych suddenly laughed viciously.
"You probably remember the story about Polochkin," he hissed. "He gave his capital to his wife 'from hand to hand' and she ran off with her lover."
"You may rest assured, my child, I have no lover."
"Then you'll run off without a lover—with the money."
"How well you understand my motives!"
"I don't understand you at all. You gave me the reputation of a fool. Well, I am a fool. Let me be a fool. What wonderful tricks they have invented—to pass my money from hand to hand! And where do I come in? I suppose you'll order me to go to a monastery for my salvation, and from there watch how you manage my money?"