oma and smiled. "And then, what is there to think of? It is
simple. You see how others live. Well, consequently, you must imitate
them."

"Ah, don't do this! Spare yourself. You are so good! There is something
peculiar in you; what--I do not know. But it can be felt. And it seems
to me, it will be very hard for you to get along in life. I am sure, you
will not go along the usual way of the people of your circle. No! You
cannot be pleased with a life which is wholly devoted to gain, to hunts
after the rouble, to this business of yours. Oh, no! I know, you will
have a desire for something else, will you not?"

She spoke quickly, with a look of alarm in her eyes. Looking at her,
Foma thought:

"What is she driving at?"

And he answered her slowly:

"Perhaps I will have a desire for something else. Perhaps I have it
already."

Drawing up closer to him, she looked into his face and spoke
convincingly:

"Listen! Do not live like all other people! Arrange your life somehow
differently. You are strong, young. You are good!"

"And if I am good then there must be good for me!" exclaimed Foma,
feeling that he was seized with agitation, and that his heart was
beginning to beat with anxiety.

"Ah, but that is not the case! Here on earth it is worse for the good
people than for the bad ones!" said Medinskaya, sadly.

And again the trembling notes of music began to dance at the touch of
her fingers. Foma felt that if he did not start to say at once what was
necessary, he would tell her nothing later.

"God bless me!" he said to himself, and in a lowered voice,
strengthening his heart, began:

"Sophya Pavlovna! Enough! I have something to say. I have come to tell
you: 'Enough!' We must deal fairly, openly. At first you have attracted
me to yourself, and now you are fencing away from me. I cannot
understand what you say. My mind is dull, but I can feel that you wish
to hide yourself. I can see it--do you understand now what brought me
here?"

His eyes began to flash and with each word his voice became warmer and
louder. She moved her body forward and said with alarm:

"Oh, cease."

"No, I won't, I will speak!"

"I know what you want to say."

"You don't know it all!" said Foma, threateningly, rising to his feet.
"But I know everything about you--everything."

"Yes? Then the better it is for me," said Medinskaya, calmly.

She also arose from the couch, as though about to go away somewhere, but
after a few secon