"You might forget about it at such a moment. You must set old grudges aside."
"I have forgotten it all long ago. I only mentioned it in passing. My brother disliked me, for what reason, I know not. I tried one way and another, directly and indirectly. I called him 'dear' and 'kind brother,' but he drew back and that was the end of it."
"I asked you please not to bring all that up. The man is lying at the point of death."
"Yes, mother dear, death is a great mystery. 'For ye know neither the day nor the hour.' That's the kind of mystery it is. There he was making plans, thinking he was exalted so high, so high as to be beyond mortal reach. But in one instant with one blow God undid all his dreams. Perhaps he would be glad now to cover up his sins. But they are already recorded in the Book of Life. And whatever is written in that book, mother dear, won't be scraped off in a hurry."
"But does not the Lord accept the sinner's repentance?"
"That's just what I wish for him from the bottom of my heart. I know he hated me, still I wish him forgiveness. I wish the best for everybody—for those that hate me, those that insult me—everybody. He was unfair to me and now God sends him an ailment—not I, but God. Does he suffer much, mother dear?"
"Well, not very much. The doctor was here and even gave us hopes." So lied Arina Petrovna.
"What splendid news! Don't you worry, dear mother, he'll pull through yet. Here we are eating our hearts away and grumbling at the Creator, and perhaps he is sitting quietly on his bed thanking the Lord for his recovery."
The idea delighted Yudushka so immensely that he even giggled softly to himself.
"Do you know, mother dear, that I have come to stay here a while?" he went on, for all the world as if he were giving his mother a pleasant surprise. "It's among good kinsmen, you know. In case something happens—you understand, as a brother—I may console, advise, make arrangements. You will permit me, will you not?"