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Updated: June 25, 2025
From the words of the old man Foma's head was heavy and troubled, and he was glad that the conversation had, at last, turned to business matters. "That isn't right," said Shchurov, sternly knitting his brow. "It is overdue you must pay. "You'll get a half of it tomorrow." "Why a half? Why not all?" "We are badly in need of money now." "And haven't you any? But I also need it." "Wait a little."
Foma smiled sheepishly and stared in confusion at the whiskered man, Ookhtishchev's interlocutor. That man was stroking his moustache with an air of importance, and deep, heavy, repulsive words fell from his lips on Foma's ears. "Because, you see, there will be one co-cot-te less in town." "Shame, Martin Nikitich!" said Ookhtishchev, reproachfully, knitting his brow.
Why shall I lie to you since I have observed that same policy perhaps a hundred times? Just charge me to have dealings with her. Eh? I'll make you acquainted with her in a moment." "Very well," said Foma, feeling that he could hardly breathe and that something was choking his throat. "Well, then, I'll bring her up in the evening." And Yefim smiled approvingly into Foma's face and walked off.
When Kononov sank heavily in the chair, as though he were unable to withstand the weight of Foma's harsh words, Foma noticed that bitter and malicious smiles crossed the faces of some of the merchants. He heard some one's whisper of astonishment and approval: "That's well aimed!"
"Hush," Mayakin remarked with fright and hastily turned to look around with a kind smile on his face. But it was too late; his smile was of no avail. Foma's words had been overheard, the noise and the talk was subsiding, some of the guests began to bustle about hurriedly, others, offended, frowned, put down their forks and knives and walked away from the table, all looking at Foma askance.
All his face, tanned from wind and sunburn, brightened up with inward joy, was radiant with tranquil joy; he touched Foma's knee with his hand and said in a sincere tone: "Cast aside from you all that is worldly, for there is no sweetness in it. I am telling you the right word turn away from evil.
The gentleman with the side whiskers sat beside a young, plump, buxom girl, who constantly giggled in a ringing voice at something which he whispered in her ear as he leaned over her shoulder. And Foma's lady was a stately brunette, clad all in black.
Foma's voice broke down; he raised his hand and concluded in a dull voice: "Goodbye!" "Goodbye!" said Medinskaya, softly. He did not give her his hand, but, turning abruptly, he walked away from her. But already at the door he felt that he was sorry for her, and he glanced at her across his shoulder. There, in the corner, she stood alone, her head bent, her hands hanging motionless.
"I congratulate you on a successful result, Foma Ignatyich!" the contractor congratulated him and the wrinkles quivered on his face in cheerful beams. "Thank God! You must be quite tired now?" Cold wind blew in Foma's face.
Shchurov also rose from his chair and, without lowering his eyes at Foma's sarcastic look, said, calmly scratching his chest: "That's all right." "Thank you for your kindness." "That's nothing! You don't give me a chance, or I would have shown you my kindness!" said the old man lazily, showing his teeth. "Yes! If one should fall into your hands " "He'd find it warm "
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