ed it so, I do not grumble, your Excellency. That's
what you should have said, or something in this spirit. Governors, my
dear, are very fond of meekness in a man."

"Was I to look at him like a lamb?" said Foma, with a smile.

"You did look like a lamb, and that was unnecessary. You must look
neither like a lamb, nor like a wolf, but just play off before him as
though saying: 'You are our father, we are your children,' and he will
immediately soften."

"And what is this for?"

"For any event. A governor, my dear, can always be of use somewhere."

"What do you teach him, papa?" said Luba, indignantly, in a low voice.

"Well, what?"

"To dance attendance."

"You lie, you learned fool! I teach him politics, not dancing
attendance; I teach him the politics of life. You had better leave us
alone! Depart from evil, and prepare some lunch for us. Go ahead!"

Luba rose quickly and throwing the towel across the back of the chair,
left the room. Mayakin, winking his eyes, looked after her, tapped the
table with his fingers and said:

"I shall instruct you, Foma. I shall teach you the most genuine, true
knowledge and philosophy, and if you understand them, your life will be
faultless."

Foma saw how the wrinkles on the old man's forehead were twitching, and
they seemed to him like lines of Slavonic letters.

"First of all, Foma, since you live on this earth, it is your duty to
think over everything that takes place about you. Why? That you may
not suffer for your own senselessness, and may not harm others by your
folly. Now, every act of man is double-faced, Foma. One is visible to
all--this is the wrong side; the other is concealed--and that is the
real one. It is that one that you must be able to find in order to
understand the sense of the thing. Take for example the lodging-asylums,
the work-houses, the poor-houses and other similar institutions. Just
consider, what are they for?"

"What is there to consider here?" said Foma, wearily "Everybody knows
what they are for--for the poor and feeble."

"Eh, dear! Sometimes everybody knows that a certain man is a rascal and
a scoundrel, and yet all call him Ivan or Peter, and instead of abusing
him they respectfully add his father's name to his own."

"What has this to do with it?"

"It's all to the point. So you say that these houses are for the poor,
for beggars, consequently, in accordance with Christ's commandment.
Very well! But who is the beggar? The beggar