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I do everything well," said Smolin, calmly. The bell began to bang as though it had been frightened and was hastily running somewhere. Sitting in school, Foma began to feel somewhat freer, and compared his friends with the rest of the boys.
"I said, co-cot-te," pronounced the whiskered man, moving his lips as if he tasted the word. "And if you don't understand it, I can explain it to you." "You had better explain it," said Foma, with a deep sigh, not lifting his eyes off the man. Ookhtishchev clasped his hands and rushed aside.
It floated and rocked in the water, its teeth seemed to stare at Foma as though saying, with a smile: "Eh, boy, boy, it is cold. Goodbye!" The boat-hooks shook, were lifted in the air, were lowered again into the water and carefully began to push something there. "Shove him! Shove! Look out, he may be thrown under the wheel." "Shove him yourself then."
Vasily adjusted himself slowly, rose from the lounge, took Yozhov's yellow, thin little hand in his big, swarthy paw and pressed it. "Goodbye!" Then he nodded toward Foma and went through the door sideways. "Have you seen?" Yozhov asked Foma, pointing his hand at the door, behind which the heavy footsteps still resounded. "What sort of a man is he?" "Assistant machinist, Vaska Krasnoshchokov.
Roar on, Gordyeeff! Roar at everything!" And again he clutched at Foma's shoulders, flung himself on his breast, raising to Foma's face his round, black, closely-cropped head, which was ceaselessly turning about on his shoulders on all sides, so that Foma was unable to see his face, and he was angry at him for this, and kept on pushing him aside, crying excitedly: "Get away! Where is your face?
"Ignat was a terrible sinner, and he died without repentance, taken unawares. He was a great sinner!" "He was not more sinful than others," replied Foma, angrily, offended in his father's behalf. "Than who, for instance?" demanded Shchurov, strictly. "Are there not plenty of sinners?"
"And will he soon fall into your hands?" inquired Foma, naively. "It is hard to tell. Being far from stupid, he will probably never be caught, and to the end of his days he will live with you and me in the same degree of equality before the law. Oh God, what I am telling you!" said Ookhtishchev, with a comical sigh. "Betraying secrets?" grinned Foma.
Foma glanced thither and turned away. He did not feel like going to town with these people, neither did he care to stay here with them. And they were still pacing the raft with uneven steps, shaking from side to side and muttering disconnected words.
It was pregnant with possibilities. Yet it was not finished, was not decisive. She left him to go with the son of a rich vodka-maker. And all that was best in Sofya Medynsky was quickened when she looked upon Foma with the look of the Mother-Woman. She might have been a power for good in his life, she might have shed light into it and lifted him up to safety and honour and understanding.
Foma was now standing meekly among the people that had closely surrounded him, and he eagerly listened to the coupletist's thundering words, which now aroused in him a sensation as though somebody was scratching a sore spot, and thus soothing the acute itching of the pain.
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