irritated; his speech, usually fluent, was now
interrupted; he was swearing and expectorating as he spoke, and it was
with difficulty that Foma learned what the matter was. Sophya Pavlovna
Medinskaya, the wealthy architect's wife, who was well known in the city
for her tireless efforts in the line of arranging various charitable
projects, persuaded Ignat to endow seventy-five thousand roubles for the
erection of a lodging-house in the city and of a public library with
a reading-room. Ignat had given the money, and already the newspapers
lauded him for his generosity. Foma had seen the woman more than once
on the streets; she was short; he knew that she was considered as one of
the most beautiful women in the city, and that bad rumours were afoot as
to her behaviour.

"Is that all?" exclaimed Foma, when his godfather concluded the story.
"And I thought God knows what!"

"You? You thought?" cried Mayakin, suddenly grown angry. "You thought
nothing, you beardless youngster!"

"Why do you abuse me?" Foma said.

"Tell me, in your opinion, is seventy-five thousand roubles a big sum or
not?"

"Yes, a big sum," said Foma, after a moment's thought.

"Ah, ha!"

"But my father has much money. Why do you make such a fuss about it?"

Yakov Tarasovich was taken aback. He looked into the youth's face with
contempt and asked him in a faint voice:

"And you speak like this?"

"I? Who then?"

"You lie! It is your young foolishness that speaks. Yes! And my old
foolishness--brought to test a million times by life--says that you are
a young dog as yet, and it is too early for you to bark in a basso."

Foma hearing this, had often been quite provoked by his godfather's too
picturesque language.

Mayakin always spoke to him more roughly than his father, but now the
youth felt very much offended by the old man and said to him reservedly,
but firmly:

"You had better not abuse me without reflection, for I am no longer a
small child."

"Come, come!" exclaimed Mayakin, mockingly lifting his eyebrows and
squinting.

This roused Foma's indignation. He looked full into the old man's eyes
and articulated with emphasis:

"And I am telling you that I don't want to hear any more of that
undeserved abuse of yours. Enough!"

"Mm! So-o! Pardon me."

Yakov Tarasovich closed his eyes, chewed a little with his lips, and,
turning aside from his godson, kept silent for awhile. The carriage
turned into a narrow street, and, noticing f