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Updated: May 2, 2025
Foma blushed, and, bending his head, began to speak to her in a heavy voice, as though he was lifting every word from the ground and as though each word weighed a few puds. "You see a woman who has given birth to children such a woman has altogether different eyes." "So? What kind are they then?" "Shameless!" Foma blurted out.
Tall and supple, seated on a pile of wood, she repaired sacks, quickly moving her hands, which were bare up to the elbows, and she smiled at Foma all the time. "Foma Ignatyich!" he heard Yefim's reproachful voice, "you've showed off too much. Well, if it were only about fifty puds! But why so much? Look out that we don't get a good scolding for this." "Leave me alone!" said Foma, shortly.
Still, the increase in quantity more than counterbalanced the fall in price. For example: in 1881 the average price of grain per pud was 119, and in 1894 it had sunk to 59; but the amount exported during that time rose from 203 to 617 million puds, and the sum received for it had risen from 242 to 369 millions of roubles.
We provided ourselves also with six or eight puds of Circassian leaf tobacco to be used instead of money; divided equally our little store of beads, pipes, knives, and trading-goods, purchased new suits of furs throughout, and made every preparation for three or four months of camp life in an arctic climate.
He smiled in embarrassment: the excitement within him had not yet calmed down and this hindered him from understanding what had happened and why all those who surrounded him were so merry and contented. "We've raised a hundred and seventy thousand puds as if we plucked a radish from a garden-bed!" said some one. "We ought to get a vedro of whisky from our master."
Foma told his father all about his affairs in a few minutes and he concluded his story with a frank confession: "I have spent much money on myself." "How much?" "About six hundred roubles." "In six weeks! That's a good deal. I see as a clerk you're too expensive for me. Where have you squandered it all?" "I gave away three hundred puds of grain." "To whom? How?" Foma told him all about it. "Hm!
"The people who don't get on, are those that pick and choose upon false principles. They generally attempt what they are unfit for, and deserve their failures. Are you willing to teach little puds and little tongues?" "Certainly." "Tell me what you are able to do?" "I would rather not. You might think differently when you came to know me. But you can ask me any questions you please.
MRS. G. Mafflin didn't at all like his watch being broken, though he was too polite to say so. It was entirely his fault for giving it to the child. Dem little puds are werry, werry feeble, aren't dey, my Jack-in-de-box? G. Regimental shop as usual. MRS. G. The Regiment! Always the Regiment. On my word, I sometimes feel jealous of Mafflin. I don't think you need.
"Oh, Wio-wani, were you there all the while?" cried Tiki-pu ecstatically, leaping up and clutching with his smeary little puds the hand which the old man extended to him. "I was there," said Wio-wani, "looking at you out of my little window. Come along in!"
And he shouted down: "Eh, boys! The master is giving away two hundred puds." "Three hundred!" interposed Foma. "Three hundred puds. Oh! Thank you! Three hundred puds of grain, boys!" But their response was weak. The peasants lifted up their heads and mutely lowered them again, resuming their work. A few voices said irresolutely and as though unwillingly: "Thanks. May God give you.
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