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Updated: June 25, 2025
The barges were led by Gordyeeff's steamer "Philezhny," under the command of Foma's old acquaintance, the former sailor Yefim now, Yefim Ilyich, a squarely built man of about thirty with lynx-like eyes a sober-minded, steady and very strict captain. They sailed fast and cheerfully, because all were contented. At first Foma was proud of the responsible commission with which he had been charged.
I sympathise with you in your misfortune, young man!" he said, shaking Foma's hand, and became silent; then he added resolutely and confidently: "To lose a father, that is a very painful misfortune." And, having waited about two seconds for Foma's answer, he turned away from him, addressing Mayakin approvingly: "I am delighted with the speech you made yesterday in the city hall!
He still lived in the world of fairy-tales, but the invisible and pitiless hand of reality was already at work tearing the beautiful, fine web of the wonderful, through which the boy had looked at everything about him. The incident with the machinist and the pilot directed his attention to his surroundings; Foma's eyes became more sharp-sighted.
With the gesture of a tragic actor the man stretched out to Foma his hand, with its long, pliant fingers like those of a juggler, and he said in a deep hoarse basso: "You are the rotten disease of your father, who, though he was a plunderer, was nevertheless a worthy man in comparison with you." Because of the unexpectedness of this, and because of his wrath, Foma's heart shrank.
Foma laughed gaily at the sound of her voice, lifted her into his arms and quickly, almost running, dashed across the rafts to the shore. She was wet and cold, but her breathing was hot, it burned Foma's cheek and filled his breast with wild joy. "You wanted to drown me?" said she, firmly, pressing close to him. "It was rather too early. Wait!"
I consider her good, therefore she is good." There was great emotion in Foma's voice. Ookhtishchev looked at him and said thoughtfully: "You are a queer man, I must confess." "I am a simple man a savage. I have given him a thrashing and now I feel jolly, and as to the result, let come what will. "I am afraid that it will result in something bad.
"What makes you speak that way?" said the woman, reproachfully, and adjusting her dress, she accidentally stroked Foma's hand, in which he held his hat. This made him look at his wrist and smile joyously and confusedly. "You will surely be present at the dinner, won't you?" asked Medinskaya. "Yes." "And tomorrow at the meeting in my house?" "Without fail!"
It happened very often that Foma would suddenly say something which seemed audacious even to himself, and which, at the same time, elevated him in his own eyes. There were certain unexpected, daring thoughts and words, which suddenly flashed like sparks, as though an impression produced them from Foma's brains.
One of Foma's neighbours, a fidgety little boy with black little mouse-eyes, jumped up from his seat and passed through the aisle, striking against everything and turning his head on all sides. At the blackboard he seized the chalk, and, standing up on the toes of his boots, noisily began to mark the board with the chalk, creaking and filling with chalk dust, dashing off small, illegible marks.
She stopped as though petrified, holding a tray in her outstretched hands and listened to everything her brother said about the punishment inflicted upon him. She listened, and slowly walked away, without catching Foma's astonished and sarcastic glance.
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