the radiant Aurora."

"Is Medinskaya going away?" a deep bass voice asked. "That's fine! I am
glad."

"May I know why?" exclaimed Ookhtishchev. Foma smiled sheepishly and
stared in confusion at the whiskered man, Ookhtishchev's interlocutor.

That man was stroking his moustache with an air of importance, and deep,
heavy, repulsive words fell from his lips on Foma's ears.

"Because, you see, there will be one co-cot-te less in town."

"Shame, Martin Nikitich!" said Ookhtishchev, reproachfully, knitting his
brow.

"How do you know that she is a coquette?" asked Foma, sternly, coming
closer to the whiskered man. The man measured him with a scornful look,
turned aside and moving his thigh, drawled out:

"I didn't say--coquette."

"Martin Nikitich, you mustn't speak that way about a woman who--" began
Ookhtishchev in a convincing tone, but Foma interrupted him:

"Excuse me, just a moment! I wish to ask the gentleman, what is the
meaning of the word he said?"

And as he articulated this firmly and calmly, Foma thrust his hands deep
into his trousers-pockets, threw his chest forward, which at once gave
his figure an attitude of defiance. The whiskered gentleman again eyed
Foma with a sarcastic smile.

"Gentlemen!" exclaimed Ookhtishchev, softly.

"I said, co-cot-te," pronounced the whiskered man, moving his lips as if
he tasted the word. "And if you don't understand it, I can explain it to
you."

"You had better explain it," said Foma, with a deep sigh, not lifting
his eyes off the man.

Ookhtishchev clasped his hands and rushed aside.

"A cocotte, if you want to know it, is a prostitute," said the whiskered
man in a low voice, moving his big, fat face closer to Foma.

Foma gave a soft growl and, before the whiskered man had time to move
away, he clutched with his right hand his curly, grayish hair. With a
convulsive movement of the hand, Foma began to shake the man's head and
his big, solid body; lifting up his left hand, he spoke in a dull voice,
keeping time to the punishment:

"Don't abuse a person--in his absence. Abuse him--right in his
face--straight in his eyes."

He experienced a burning delight, seeing how comically the stout arms
were swinging in the air, and how the legs of the man, whom he was
shaking, were bending under him, scraping against the floor. His gold
watch fell out of the pocket and dangled on the chain, over his round
paunch. Intoxicated with his own strength and with the degrad