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Updated: June 25, 2025
From the distance came a dull sound, like a deep groan, and immediately after it the signal whistle of the steamer drawled out as in a frightened manner over Foma's and his guest's heads. From the distance came a more distant reply, and the whistle overhead again gave out abrupt, timorous sounds. Foma opened the window.
And close at Foma's side stood Smolin and whispered in his ear: "Stop, my dear boy! What's the matter with you? Are you out of your wits? They'll do you !" "Get away!" said Foma, firmly, flashing his angry eyes at him. "You go to Mayakin and flatter him, perhaps something will come your way!" Smolin whistled through his teeth and stepped aside.
"What difference does it make to you?" asked the girl. "It's interesting to know. How cleverly the rascal described Foma's behaviour. Evidently he must have been with him and witnessed all the indecency himself." "Oh, no, he wouldn't go with Foma on a spree! said Lubov, confidently, and blushed deeply at her father's searching look. "So!
It took root within his heart, but did not fill it up, for Foma's relations toward Medinskaya assumed that character, which they were bound to assume. He longed for her, he always yearned to see her; while in her presence he became timid, awkward and stupid; he knew it and suffered on this account.
What's the matter with you?" cried Yozhov, pushing him away, amazed and shifted from his position by Foma's unexpected outburst and strange words. "Oh, brother!" said Foma, lowering his voice, which thus sounded deeper, more persuasive. "Oh, living soul, why do you sink to ruin?" "Who? I? I sink? You lie!" "My dear boy! You will not say anything to anybody! There is no one to speak to!
And Foma's soul was dry, dark; it was filled with a painful feeling of orphanhood. But this feeling gave birth to the question: "How shall I live now that I am alone?" The rain drenched his clothes, and when he felt that he was shivering with cold he arose and went into the house.
"Let's strike up the student song. Well, one, two!" "Swift as the waves," Someone roared in his bass voice: "Are the days of our life." "Friends!" said Yozhov, rising to his feet, a glass in his hand. He staggered, and leaned his other hand against Foma's head. The started song was broken off, and all turned their heads toward him. "Working men! Permit me to say a few words, words from the heart.
He looked in silence, and softly tapped his fingers on the edge of the table. Lubov was uneasily moving about in her chair. The pendulum of the clock told the seconds with a dull, sighing sound. And Foma's heart throbbed slowly and painfully, as though conscious that here no one would respond with a warm word to its painful perplexity.
They'll take him out somewhere and bury him." "And will a fish devour him?" "Fish do not eat human bodies. Crabs eat them. They like them." Foma's fright was melting, from the heat of his father's body, but before his eyes the terrible sneering face was still rocking in the black water. "And who is he?" "God knows! Say to God about him: 'Oh Lord, rest his soul!
Yozhov imitated Foma's slow way of speaking. "How many pigeons do you have?" "I have none." "Eh, you! Rich, and yet you have no pigeons. Even I have three. If my father had been rich I would have had a hundred pigeons and chased them all day long. Smolin has pigeons, too, fine ones! Fourteen. He made me a present of one. Only, he is greedy. All the rich are greedy. And you, are you greedy, too?"
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