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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Better with cognac," said Foma, shaking the lean, burning hand which was outstretched to him, and staring fixedly into the face of the little man. "Yegorovna!" cried the latter at the door, and turning to Foma, asked: "Don't you recognise me, Foma Ignatyevich?" "I remember something. It seems to me we had met somewhere before." "That meeting lasted for four years, but that was long ago! Yozhov."
At the sight of his wolf-like, angry face and his wrathful pose, the merchants again became silent for a moment. "What are you gaping at?" asked Foma, and again accompanied his question with a violent oath. "He's drunk!" said Bobrov, with a shake of the head. "And why was he invited?" whispered Reznikov, softly. "Foma Ignatyevich!" said Kononov, sedately, "you mustn't create any scandals.
"Ah! Well, then, of course. Excuse me, Foma Ignatyevich. But as you brought him, Yakov, you ought to subdue him. Otherwise it's no good." Foma maintained silence and smiled. And the merchants, too, were silent, as they looked at him. "Eh, Fomka!" began Mayakin. "Again you disgrace my old age."
Firmly and kind-heartedly shaking Ookhtishchev's hand, Foma asked him: "And what makes you think that I am modest?" "What a question! A man, who lives like a hermit, who neither drinks, nor plays, nor likes any women. By the way, do you know, Foma Ignatyevich, that peerless patroness of ours is going abroad tomorrow for the whole summer?" "Sophya Pavlovna?" asked Foma, slowly. "Of course!
We have come together to enjoy ourselves." "Come, you had better drop that, Foma Ignatyevich." "Better drink something." "Let's have a drink! Ah, Foma, you're the son of a fine father!" Foma recoiled from the table, straightened himself and continuously smiling, listened to the kind, admonitory words. Among all those sedate people he was the youngest and the handsomest.
"Foma Ignatyevich!" said Ookhtishchev in a faint, but sober voice, "look out, this is a dangerous joke. I'll make a complaint." "When you are drowned? You may complain!" answered Foma, cheerfully. "You are a murderer!" exclaimed Zvantzev, sobbing. But at this time a ringing splash of water was heard as though it groaned with fright or with astonishment.
"You'll pay for this, Foma Ignatyevich." "Will he take me to court?" "Would to God he does. He is the Vice-Governor's son-in-law." "Is that so?" said Foma, slowly, and made a long face. "Yes. To tell the truth, he is a scoundrel and a rascal. According to this fact I must admit, that he deserves a drubbing. But taking into consideration the fact that the lady you defended is also "
Eh, Foma Ignatyevich!" she exclaimed, lifting her voice louder, and reiterating the rhythm of her harmonious speech, whose accents rose and fell in unison with the melodious murmuring of the water. "Listen to me preserve your youth! There is nothing in the world better than that. There is nothing more precious than youth. With youth, as with gold, you can accomplish anything you please.
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