ut their hands toward it； the gold and silver jingles； bottles rattle； corks pop； someone sobs； and a melancholy female voice sings：
〃And so let us live while we can； And thene'en grass may cease to grow！〃
This wild picture fastened itself firmly in Foma's mind； and growing clearer； larger and more vivid with each time it arose before him； rousing in his breast something chaotic； one great indefinite feeling into which fell； like streams into a river； fear and revolt and compassion and wrath and many another thing。 All this boiled up within his breast into strained desire； which was thrusting it asunder into a desire whose power was choking him； and his eyes were filled with tears； he longed to shout； to howl like a beast； to frighten all the people； to check their senseless bustle； to pour into the tumult and vanity of their life something new； his own to tell them certain loud firm words； to guide them all into one direction； and not one against another。 He desired to seize them by their heads； to tear them apart one from another； to thrash some； to fondle others； to reproach them all； to illumine them with a certain fire。
There was nothing in him； neither the necessary words； nor the fire； all he had was the longing which was clear to him； but impossible of fulfillment。 He pictured himself above life outside of the deep valley； wherein people were bustling about； he saw himself standing firmly on his feet andspeechless。 He might have cried to the people：
〃See how you live！ Aren't you ashamed？〃
And he might have abused them。 But if they were to ask on hearing his voice：
〃And how ought we to live？〃
It was perfectly clear to him that after such a question he would have to fly down head foremost from the heights there； beneath the feet of the throng； upon the millstone。 And laughter would accompany him to his destruction。
Sometimes he was delirious under the pressure of this nightmare。 Certain meaningless and unconnected words burst from his lips； he even perspired from this painful struggle within him。 At times it occurred to him that he was going mad from intoxication； and that that was the reason why this terrible and gloomy picture was forcing itself into his mind。 With a great effort of will he brushed aside these pictures and excitements； but as soon as he was alone and not very drunk； he was again seized by his delirium and again grew faint under its weight。 And his thirst for freedom was growing more and more intense； torturing him by its force。 But tear himself away from the shackles of his wealth he could not。 Mayakin； who had Foma's full power of attorney to manage his affairs； acted now in such a way that Foma was bound to feel almost every day the burden of the obligations which rested upon him。 People were constantly applying to him for payments； proposing to him terms for the transportation of freight。 His employees overwhelmed him in person and by letter with trifles with which he had never before concerned himself； as they used to settle these trifles at their own risk。 They looked for him and found him in the taverns； questioned him as to what and how it should be done； he would tell them sometimes without at all understanding in what way this or that should be done。 He noticed their concealed contempt for him； and almost always saw that they did not do the work as he had ordered； but did it in a different and better way。 In this he felt the clever hand of his godfather； and understood that the old man was thus pressing him in order to turn him to his way。 And at the same time he noticed that he was not the master of his business； but only a component part of it； and an insignificant part at that。 This irritated him and moved him farther away from the old man； it augumented his longing to tear himself away from his business； even at the cost of his own ruin。 Infuriated； he flung money about the taverns and dives； but this did not last long。 Yakov Tarasovich closed his accounts in the banks； withdrawing all deposits。 Soon Foma began to feel that even on promissory notes； they now gave him the money not quite as willingly as before。 This stung his vanity； and his indignation was roused； and he was frightened when he learned that his godfather had circulated a rumour in the business world that he； Foma； was out of his mind； and that； perhaps； it might become necessary to appoint a guardian for him。 Foma did not know the limits of his godfather's power； and did not venture to take anyone's counsel in this matter。 He was convinced that in the business world the old man was a power； and that he could do anything he pleased。 At first it was painful for him to feel Mayakin's hand over him； but later he became reconciled to this； renounced everything； and resumed his restless； drunken life； wherein there was only one consolationthe people。 With each succeeding day he became more and more convinced that they were more irrational and altogether worse than hethat they were not the masters of life； but its slaves； and that it was turning them around； bending and breaking them at its will； while they succumbed to it unfeelingly and resignedly； and none of them but he desired freedom。 But he wanted it； and therefore proudly elevated himself above his drinking companions； not desiring to see in them anything but wrong。
One day in a tavern a certain half…intoxicated man complained to him of his life。 This was a small…sized； meagre man； with dim； frightened eyes； unshaven； in a short frock coat； and with a bright necktie。 He blinked pitifully； his ears quivered spasmodically； and his soft little voice also trembled。
〃I've struggled hard to make my way among men； I've tried everything； I've worked like a bull。 But life jostled me aside； crushed me under foot； gave me no chance。 All my patience gave way。 Eh！ and so I've taken to drink。 I feel that I'll be ruined。 Well； that's the only way open to me！〃
〃Fool！〃 said Foma with contempt。 〃Why did you want to make your way among men？ You should have kept away from them； to the right。 Standing aside； you might have seen where your place was among them； and then gone right to the point！〃
〃I don't understand your words。〃 The little man shook his close… cropped； angular head。
Foma laughed； self…satisfied。
〃Is it for you to understand it？〃〃No； do you know； I think that he whom God decreed〃
〃Not God； but man arranges life！〃 Foma blurted out； and was even himself astonished at the audacity of his words。 And the little man glancing at him askance also shrank timidly。
〃Has God given you reason？〃 asked Foma； recovering from his embarrassment。
〃Of course； that is to say； as much as is the share of a small man；〃 said Foma's interlocutor irresolutely。
〃Well； and you have no right to ask of Him a single grain more！ Make your own life by your own reason。 And God will judge you。 We are all in His service。 And in His eyes we are all of equal value。 Understand？〃
It happened very often that Foma would suddenly say something which seemed audacious even to himself； and which； at the same time； elevated him in his own eyes。 There were certain unexpected； daring thoughts and words； which suddenly flashed like sparks； as though an impression produced them from Foma's brains。 And he noticed more than once that whatever he had carefully thought out beforehand was expressed by him not quite so well； and more obscure； than that which suddenly flashed up in his heart。
Foma lived as though walking in a swamp； in danger of sinking at each step in the mire and slime； while his godfather； like a river loach； wriggled himself on a dry； firm little spot； vigilantly watching the life of his godson from afar。
After his quarrel with Foma； Yakov Tarasovich returned home； gloomy and pensive。 His eyes flashed drily； and he straightened himself like a tightly…stretched string。 His wrinkles shrank painfully； his face seemed to have become smaller and darker； and when Lubov saw him in this state it appeared to her that he was seriously ill； but that he was forcing and restraining himself。 Mutely and nervously the old man flung himself about the room； casting in reply to his daughter's questions； dry curt words； and finally shouted to her：
〃Leave me alone！ You see it has nothing to do with you。〃
She felt sorry for him when she noticed the gloomy and melancholy expression of his keen； green eyes； she made it her duty to question him as to what had happened to him； and when he seated himself at the dinner…table she suddenly approached him； placed her hands on his shoulders； and looking down into his face； asked him tenderly and anxiously：
〃Papa； are you ill？ tell me！〃
Her caresses were extremely rare； they always softened the lonely old man； and though he did not respond to them for some reason or other he nevertheless could not help appreciating them。 And now he shrugged his shoulders； thus throwing off her hands and said：
〃Go； go to your place。 How the itching curiosity of Eve gives you no rest。〃
But Lubov did not go away； persistingly looking into his eyes； she asked； with an offended tone in her voice：
〃Papa； why do you always speak to me in such a way as though I were a small child； or very stupid？〃
〃Because you are grown up and yet not very clever。 Ye