up and looked at the
efforts of the two stonemasons, who were preparing the bricks and the
lime. Mayakin and his godson wended their way toward this group. He
whispered to Foma:

"Lose no courage, these people have robbed their bellies to cover
themselves with silk."

And he greeted the governor before the bishop, in a respectfully
cheerful voice.

"How do you do, your Excellency? Give me your blessing, your Holiness!"

"Ah, Yakov Tarasovich!" exclaimed the governor with a friendly smile,
shaking and squeezing Mayakin's hand, while the old man was at the same
time kissing the bishop's hand. "How are you, deathless old man?"

"I thank you humbly, your Excellency! My respects to Sophya Pavlovna!"
Mayakin spoke fast, whirling like a peg-top amid the crowd of people.
In a minute he managed to shake hands with the presiding justice of the
court, with the prosecutor, with the mayor--in a word, with all those
people whom he considered it necessary to greet first; such as these,
however, were few. He jested, smiled and at once attracted everybody's
attention to his little figure, and Foma with downcast head stood
behind him, looking askance at these people wrapped in costly stuffs,
embroidered with gold; he envied the old man's adroitness and lost his
courage, and feeling that he was losing his courage--he grew still
more timid. But now Mayakin seized him by the hand and drew him up to
himself.

"There, your Excellency, this is my godson, Foma, the late Ignat's only
son."

"Ah!" said the governor in his basso, "I'm very pleased. I sympathise
with you in your misfortune, young man!" he said, shaking Foma's hand,
and became silent; then he added resolutely and confidently: "To lose a
father, that is a very painful misfortune."

And, having waited about two seconds for Foma's answer, he turned away
from him, addressing Mayakin approvingly:

"I am delighted with the speech you made yesterday in the city hall!
Beautiful, clever, Yakov Tarasovich. Proposing to use the money for this
public club, they do not understand the real needs of the population."

"And then, your Excellency, a small capital means that the city will
have to add its own money."

"Perfectly true! Perfectly true!"

"Temperance, I say, is good! Would to God that all were sober! I don't
drink, either, but what is the use of these performances, libraries and
all that, since the people cannot even read?"

The governor replied approvingly.

"Here, I s