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The old man was not at home, and in the dining-room sat Lubov with her brother, drinking tea. On reaching the door Foma heard the hoarse voice of Taras: "What makes father bother himself about him?" At the sight of Foma he stopped short, staring at his face with a serious, searching look.
"If the deceased Ignat could read in the newspapers of the indecent life his son is leading, he would have killed Foma!" said Mayakin, striking the table with his fists. "How they have written it up! It's a disgrace!" "He deserves it," said Lubov. "I don't say it was done at random! They've barked at him, as was necessary. And who was it that got into such a fit of anger?"
He's a man with old-fashioned views and, pardon me, he's rather hard-hearted!" Lubov shuddered, and, casting at the red-headed man a grateful look, said: "It isn't easy, but I have grown accustomed to it. He also has his good qualities." "Oh, undoubtedly! But to you who are so young, beautiful and educated, to you with your views... You see, I have heard something about you."
All that evening she spoke only in disjointed fragments of this kind fragments which had no connection either with the point or with one another; yet I had such faith in Dimitri, and he so often kept looking from her to me with an expression which mutely asked me, "Now, what do you think of that?" that, though I entirely failed to persuade myself that in Lubov Sergievna there was anything to speak of, I could not bear to express the thought, even to myself.
That foolish girl! What a sermon he read to me! A regular judge. And she she was kind toward me." But all these thoughts stirred in him no feelings neither hatred toward Taras nor sympathy for Lubov.
And yet you believe them. But I know that my face on the samovar is distorted. No one can tell the real truth; man's throat is too delicate for this. And then, the real truth is known to nobody." "Papa!" exclaimed Lubov, sadly, "But in books and in newspapers they defend the general interests of all the people."
They don't want anything all they strive for is justice truth! They're not mosquitoes." Lubov grew excited as she lauded her beloved people; her face was flushed, and her eyes looked at her father with so much feeling, as though imploring him to believe her, being unable to convince him. "Eh, you!" said the old man, with a sigh, interrupting her. "You've read too much! You've been poisoned!
"What difference does it make to you?" asked the girl. "It's interesting to know. How cleverly the rascal described Foma's behaviour. Evidently he must have been with him and witnessed all the indecency himself." "Oh, no, he wouldn't go with Foma on a spree! said Lubov, confidently, and blushed deeply at her father's searching look. "So!
"Let it be wrong!" said Foma, with a wave of the hand. "Is it my fault that the truth can be learned by eavesdropping only?" "Go away, Foma, please!" entreated Lubov, pressing close to her brother. "Perhaps you have something to say to me?" asked Taras, calmly. "I?" exclaimed Foma. "What can I say? I cannot say anything. It is you who you, I believe, know everything."
Maslova got up and stood, with her chest expanded, looking at the president with that peculiar expression of readiness in her smiling black eyes. "What is your name?" "Lubov," she said. Nekhludoff had put on his pince-nez, looking at the prisoners while they were being questioned. "No, it is impossible," he thought, not taking his eyes off the prisoner. "Lubov!
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