"Whither can I go from Thy spirit and whither can I flee from Thy face? Should I rise to Heaven, there wouldst Thou be, should I descend to Hell, there wouldst Thou be."
"I wish you would have answered like that. You would have epaulets by this time. And how about you, Volodya, what are you going to do?"
Volodya flushed and remained silent.
"Apparently, you go no further than your brother with his 'Spirit—Holy Spirit,' Ah, children, children! You seem to be so bright and yet somehow you can't master your studies at all. I might understand if you had a father who spoiled you. Tell me, how does he treat you now?"
"Still the same old way, granny."
"Does he beat you? Didn't I hear he stopped thrashing you?"
"A little bit, but—the worst is, he pesters us to death."
"I must say, I don't understand. How can a father pester his children?"
"He does though, grandma, awfully. We can't go out without permission, we can't take a thing. It couldn't be worse."
"Well, then, ask permission. Your tongue wouldn't fall out in the effort, I imagine."