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Updated: June 5, 2025
MAYAKIN lived in an enormous two-story house near a big palisade, where sturdy, old spreading linden trees were growing magnificently.
"Oh!" exclaimed Mayakin. "Well, you are young folks, you can have books in your hands." "And do you not take interest in any of the societies?" Smolin asked Lubov. "You have so many different societies here." "Yes," said Lubov with a sigh, "but I live rather apart from everything." "Housekeeping!" interposed the father.
Mayakin looked into his face with regret, smacked his lips and said: "A wise man would never ask such a question. A wise man knows for himself that if it is a river, it must be flowing somewhere, and if it were standing in one place, it would be a swamp." "You're simply mocking me at random," said Foma, sternly. "The sea is not flowing anywhere."
Then his godfather's trotter passed him. Foma saw in the carriage the small figure of Yakov Mayakin, but even that aroused no feeling in him. A lamplighter ran past Foma, overtook him, placed his ladder against the lamp post and went up. The ladder suddenly slipped under his weight, and he, clasping the lamp post, cursed loudly and angrily.
"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."
And then, we don't live for the sake of Sweden, and Sweden cannot put us to test. We have to make our lip according to our own last. Isn't it so?" And the archdeacon droned, his head thrown back: "Eternal me-emo-ory to the founder of this ho-ouse!" Foma shuddered, but Mayakin was already by his side, and pulling him by the sleeve, asked: "Are you going to the dinner?"
The water under the sledge-runners was splashing, the muddy snow was kicked up by the hoofs of the horses. "How foolish man is in his youth!" exclaimed Mayakin, in a low voice. Foma did not look at him. "Before him stands the stump of a tree, and yet he sees the snout of a beast that's how he frightens himself. Oh, oh!" "Speak more plainly," said Foma, sternly. "What is there to say?
When her husband took her visiting she went and behaved there just as queerly as at home; when guests came to her house, she zealously served them refreshments, taking no interest whatever in what was said, and showing preference toward none. Only Mayakin, a witty, droll man, at times called forth on her face a smile, as vague as a shadow. He used to say of her: "It's a tree not a woman!
Just see what a practical newspaper is published here. By the way, we intend to purchase it." "Whom do you mean by You?" asked Mayakin. "I, Urvantzov, Shchukin " "That's praiseworthy!" said the old man, rapping the table with his hand. "That's very practical! It is time to stop their mouths, it was high time long ago! Particularly that Yozhov; he's like a sharp-toothed saw.
'Everything, he says, 'is done by machinery, and thus are men spoiled." "He is out of his wits!" Mayakin waved his hand disdainfully. "I am surprised, what an appetite you have for all sorts of nonsense! What does it come from?" "Isn't that true, either?" asked Foma, breaking into stern laughter. "What true thing can he know? A machine!
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