'D ear B rother-in-law, Piotr Ivanitch^—Do you remeriflSerhow seventeen years ago we were preparing for your departure from us ? Now it has pleased God to send my own son on the same long journey. You will be delighted with him; he will remind you of our dear lamented Fedor Ivanitch. Sashenka is his father over again. God alone knows what my mother's heart has suffered in letting him go away to strange parts. I send him, my dear brother-in-law, straight to you; I was not willing he should lodge anywhere except with you '
Adouev again shook his head.
' Silly old woman !' he muttered and read on : ' He might, in his inexperience, I daresay, have put up at the inn, but I knew that his uncle might feel hurt by that, and I bade him go straight to you. How delighted you will be when you see him! Don't let him want for advice, brother-in-law, and take him under your wing; I give him into your hands.'
Piotr Ivanitch paused again.
u Of course you are all he has [he went on reading]. Look after him, don't spoil him too much, and don't be too severe with him; he is sure to get severity from some one, and strangers will be hard upon him, but he has no one to pet him, except his kinsman; and he is such an affectionate boy: you have only to see him and then you will not part with him. And tell the chief, in whose office he will be, to take care of my Sashenka and to treat him tenderly before all things; he has been tenderly cared for with me. Keep him from wine and cards. At night— you will no doubt sleep in the same room—Sashenka has a way of lying on his back; from this he is apt, dear heart, to toss and groan in his sleep; you must rouse him gently and turn him over, he will go off again at once; but in summer cover his mouth with a handkerchief, he is apt to sleep with it open and the tiresome flies are so troublesome in the morning; and don't let him want, either, in the matter of money.'
Adouev frowned, but his face quickly brightened again, when he read further.
'But I am sending what is needful, and I have just put into his hands a thousand roubles, only don't let him waste it on trifles, and don't let sharpers get hold of him, to be sure one hears there are so many rascals and unscrupulous creatures of every sort in your metropolis. And, in conclusion, excuse all shortcomings, dear brother- in-law— I have quite got out of the habit of letter-writing.
' I remain, ' Your respectful and affectionate sister-in-law,
' A. Adouev.'
' P.S.—I send with this some presents from the country— some raspberries from our garden, some white honey, as clear as teardrops, some linen for two dozen shirts and some household preserves. Eat and wear them, and may they do you good, and when they are done, I will send more. And keep an eye over Yevsay : he is a quiet fellow and sober, but I daresay in time he will be spoiled, if he is you must let him have a whipping.'
Piotr Ivanitch laid the letter deliberately on the table, still more deliberately took up a cigar, and after rolling it in his hands, began to smoke. He deliberated a long while on the trick, as he mentally called it, which his sister- in-law was playing upon him. He began to analyse closely what they were doing with him and what he ought to do himself.
He resolved the whole incident into the following propositions. His nephew he knew nothing of, and consequently cared nothing about, and therefore his heart imposed on him no obligations of any kind to him; the matter must be judged simply by the light of reason and common justice. /His brother had married, he had entered upon married life for his own pleasure—why should he, Piotr Ivanitch, be burdened with the responsibility of his brother's son, he who had enjoyed none of the advantages • of matrimony ? There was obviously no reason, i But a point presented itself on the other side. The mother had packed her son straight off to him, to his protection, not knowing whether he was willing to undertake this responsibility, not even knowing whether he was in a position to do anything for his nephew. Granted this
was absurd; still if the deed was done and his nephew Jin Petersburg, without assistance, without acquaintance, J without even letters of recommendation, young and quite inexperienced .... would he be doing right to leave him uncared for, to throw him on the world without advice and warnings, and if anything should go wrong with him, jvguld he not feel answerable to his conscience ?
At this point Adouev chanced to recall how seventeen years ago, his dead brother and Anna Pavlovna had despatched him to Petersburg. They certainly had not been able to do anything for him in Petersburg, he had made his own way .... but he remembered her tears at the leave-taking, her blessing, quite maternal, her fond caresses, her pies, and last of all her parting words: ' Ah, when our Sashenka—then a child of three—is grown up, perhaps you, brother, will be good to him.' Here Piotr Ivanitch stood up and went with quick steps into the hall.
f' ' Vassili!' he said, ' when my nephew comes, don't send 1 him away. But go and find out whether the apartment above here has beenfake^ that was tQ.fetnot long ago^ and ifiTlias riot'Beeh let yet, say that I will retain it for myself. Ah, these are the presents ! ' Well,' what are we to 'do with them ? '
u The man from our shop saw them just now, as they brought them upstairs; he inquired if we could let him have the honey. ' I will give you a good price,' said he,' and the raspberries should he take . . . .''
' Good ! give them to him. Well, and where are we to put the linen ? Wouldn't it do for chair covers ? Put away the linen then and put away the jam, we could eat that— it looks good.'
Piotr Ivanitch had just settled himself to shave when Alexandr Fedoritch appeared. He was just going to throw himself on his uncle's neck, but the latter, holding his soft youthful hand in his powerful one, kept him at some distance from him, ostensibly to get a good look at him, but apparently more with a view of preventing this demonstration and confining him to shaking hands.
' Your mother writes truly,' he said, ' you are the living image of my late brother; I should have known you in the street. But you are better looking. Well I will go on
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shaving without ceremony, and you sit here opposite me, so that I can see you, and let us have a talk.'
So saying Piotr Ivanitch continued what he was doing as though none were present, and began to soap his cheeks, stretching them with his tongue, first one, and then the other. Alexandr was overwhelmed with confusion at this reception and did not know how to begin the conversation. He attributed his uncle's coolness to the fact that he had not taken up his quarters with him at once.
'Well, how is your mother? Is she quite well? I suppose she begins to feel her age?' asked his uncle, making various grimaces before the glass.
' Mamma is well thank God, Auntie Maria Pavlovna desires to be remembered to you,' said Alexandr timidly.
' Auntie charged me to embrace you for ' He got up
and went up to his uncle, to give him a kiss on the cheek, or the head, or the shoulder, or whatever part of him he could get at.
' It's time your aunt had more sense at her age, but I see she is just as foolish as she was twenty years ago.'
Alexandr went back to his seat in bewilderment.
' You received a letter, uncle ? ' he said.
'Yes, I did.'
' Vassili Tihovitch Zayeshaloff,' began Alexandr, ' earnestly begs you to examine his affair and interest yourself in it'
' Yes, he writes so to me. Such lunatics are not extinct among you yet then ? '
Alexandr did not know what to think—he was completely dumbfoundered by these remarks.
' Forgive me, uncle,' he began at last in trepidation
' What ? ' ' '' Forgive me for not having come straight to you; for having put up at the Diligence Hotel. I did not know your rooms.'
— ' What is there to apologise for ? You did very properly. Your good mother—heaven knows what she is thinking of. How could you have come to me without knowing whether I could put you up, or not ? Mine are bachelor's quarters, as you can see, for one only; a hall, a drawing-room, a dining-room, a smoking-room and a study, a wardrobe-room and a dressing-room—there isn't a room to spare. I
