Arina Petrovna shook with indignation.
"The coach is—mine!" she cried in a voice so full of pain that everyone felt embarrassed and ashamed. "It's mine! Mine! My coach! I—I have testimony—witnesses. And you—may you——No, I'll wait——We shall see what becomes of you. Children, are you ready?"
"For mercy's sake, mother dear! I have no grievance against you. Even if the coach belonged to this estate——"
"It is my coach—mine! It does not belong to Dubrovino, it belongs to me! Don't you dare to say it—do you hear me?"
"Yes, mother dear. Don't forget us, dear heart. Simply, you know, without ceremony. We will come to you, you will come to us, as becomes good kinsfolk."
"Are you seated, children? Coachman, go on!" cried Arina Petrovna, hardly able to restrain herself.
The coach quivered and rolled off quickly down the road. Yudushka stood on the porch waving his handkerchief and calling until the coach had entirely disappeared from view:
"As becomes good kinsfolk! We will come to you, and you to us—as becomes good kinsfolk!"