All these inevitable scenes of the future floated before Arina Petrovna's mental vision. In her ears rang Yudushka's shrill, unctuous voice as he said: "Do you remember, mother dear, the little golden shirt studs that brother had? They were so pretty. He used to wear them on holidays. I simply can't imagine where those studs could have gone to."
[Footnote A: A gruel made of rice or wheat or barley, boiled with raisins and mead. It is eaten after the mass for the dead and, in the South, on Christmas Eve.--_Translator's Note._]
No sooner did Arina Petrovna come downstairs, than a carriage drawn by a team of four horses made its appearance on a hill near the church. In it, in the place of honor, was seated Porfiry Golovliov, who had removed his hat and was crossing himself at the sight of the church. Opposite him sat his two sons, Petenka and Volodenka. The very blood froze in Arina Petrovna's veins as the thought flashed through her mind, "Speak of the devil and he's sure to appear." The girls also lost courage, and timidly clung closer to their grandmother. The house hitherto peaceful was suddenly filled with alarm. Doors banged, people ran about crying, "The master is coming, the master is coming!" and all the occupants of the house rushed out on the porch. Some made the sign of the cross, some stood in silent expectation, all apparently conscious of the fact that the existing order in Dubrovino had been only temporary, and that now the real management was to begin with a real master at the head. Under the former master some of the old, deserving serfs had enjoyed the privilege of a monthly allowance of provisions. Many of them fed their cattle on the master's hay, had kitchen gardens of their own, and altogether lived "freely." Everyone, of course, was now vitally interested to know whether the new master would permit the old order of things, or whether he would introduce a new one, similar to that which prevailed at Golovliovo.
Yudushka drove up to the house. From the reception accorded to him he concluded that affairs at Dubrovino were fast coming to a head. Without a sign of haste, he descended from the carriage, waved his hand to the servants who rushed forward to kiss it, then put his palms together, and began to climb the steps slowly, whispering a prayer. His face expressed a feeling of mingled grief, firmness, and resignation. As a man he grieved; as a Christian he did not dare to complain. He prayed to God to cure his brother, but above all he put his trust in the Lord and bowed before His will. His sons walked side by side behind him, Volodenka mimicking his father, clasping his hands, rolling his eyes heavenward and mumbling his lips. Petenka revelled in his brother's performance. Behind them, in silent procession, followed the servants.