ore, they were land-owners, now their land was snatched away from
them--and they started out in service. Very well! But who are the most
powerful people today? The merchant is the supreme power in an empire,
because he has the millions on his side! Isn't that so?"

"True!" assented Foma, eager to hear the sooner that which was to
follow, and which was already sparkling in the eyes of his godfather.

"Just mark this," the old man went on distinctly and impressively. "We
merchants had no hand in the arrangement of life, nor do we have a voice
or a hand in it today. Life was arranged by others, and it is they that
multiplied all sorts of scabs in life--idlers and poor unfortunates;
and since by multiplying them they obstructed life and spoilt it--it is,
justly judging, now their duty to purify it. But we are purifying it,
we contribute money for the poor, we look after them--we, judge it for
yourself, why should we mend another's rags, since we did not tear them?
Why should we repair a house, since others have lived in it and since
it belongs to others? Were it not wiser for us to step aside and watch
until a certain time how rottenness is multiplying and choking those
that are strangers to us? They cannot conquer it, they have not the
means to do it. Then they will turn to us and say: 'Pray, help us,
gentlemen!' and we'll tell them: 'Let us have room for our work! Rank us
among the builders of this same life!' And as soon as they do this we,
too, will have to clear life at one sweep of all sorts of filth and
chaff. Then the Emperor will see with his clear eyes who are really his
faithful servants, and how much wisdom they have saved up while their
hands were idle. Do you understand?"

"Of course, I do!" exclaimed Foma.

When his godfather spoke of the functionaries, Foma reminded himself
of the people that were present at the dinner; he recalled the brisk
secretary, and a thought flashed through his mind that this stout little
man has in all probability an income of no more than a thousand roubles
a year, while he, Foma, has a million. But that man lives so easily and
freely, while he, Foma, does not know how to live, is indeed abashed to
live. This comparison and his godfather's speech roused in him a whirl
of thoughts, but he had time to grasp and express only one of them:

"Indeed, do we work for the sake of money only? What's the use of money
if it can give us no power?"

"Aha!" said Mayakin, winking his eyes.