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Pelageya waved her handkerchief and smiled, but he knew that she was crying, shedding many painful tears. From her tears the entire front of Foma's shirt was wet, and from her tears, his heart, full of gloomy alarm, was sad and cold.
Foma's heart contracted nervously, and a few hours later, gloomy and pale, his teeth set together, he stood on the deck of the steamer, which was leaving the harbour, and clinging to the rail with his hands, he stared motionlessly into the face of his love, who was floating far away from him together with the harbour and the shore.
She had been standing in the doorway for quite a long while, and, folding her hands, lovingly admired the enormous figure of her brother, who bent over Foma with such friendliness, and the pensive pose of the boy, who clung to his father's shoulder. Thus day by day Foma's life developed slowly a quiet, peaceful life, not at all brimful of emotions.
Foma's approbation, his eyes burning with satisfaction, and his excited face gave Yozhov still more inspiration, and he cried and roared ever louder and louder, now falling on the lounge from exhaustion, now jumping up again and rushing toward Foma. "Come, now, read about me!" exclaimed Foma, longing to hear it.
Foma laughed drily and said: "I wish I were like this and had no desires for anything." Then the woman raised her head from the pillow, looked into Foma's face and lay down again, saying: "You are musing too much. Look out no good will come of it to you. I cannot tell you anything about yourself. It is impossible to say anything true about a man. Who can understand him? Man does not know himself.
These two questions seemed to strike Foma's heart and called forth in him a dull perplexity. He looked at the movement of the working people and kept on thinking: What did he regret? What did he fear? "Alone, with my own strength, I shall evidently never come out anywhere. Like a fool I shall keep on tramping about among people, mocked and offended by all.
For the first time in his life he experienced such a powerful, spiritualizing sensation, and he drank it with all the strength of a hungry, thirsty soul; he was intoxicated by it and he gave vent to his joy in loud, exulting cries in unison with the workers: "It goes it goes it goes." "Hold on! Fasten! Hold on, boys!" Something dashed against Foma's chest, and he was hurled backward.
The sun of my life is setting. And, perhaps, of yours as well?" Ookhtishchev made a comical, sly grimace and looked into Foma's face. And Foma stood before him, feeling that his head was lowering on his breast, and that he was unable to hinder it. "Yes, the radiant Aurora." "Is Medinskaya going away?" a deep bass voice asked. "That's fine! I am glad." "May I know why?" exclaimed Ookhtishchev.
A dull, tavern noise smote the air, some people went past them, they greeted Mayakin, but he saw nothing, staring fixedly at the agitated face of his godson, who smiled distractedly, both joyously and pitifully. "Eh, my sour blackberry!" said Mayakin, with a sigh, interrupting Foma's speech. "I see you've lost your way. And you're prating nonsense.
Spring came, and, fulfilling his promise, Ignat took his son along on one of his steamers, and here a new life, abounding in impressions, was opened before Foma's eyes.
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