y should he resist them?

"It isn't for everyone to philosophize," said Ookhtishchev, swinging
his cane in the air, and somewhat carried away by his wisdom. "For if
everybody were to philosophize, who would live? And we live but once!
And therefore it were best to make haste to live. By God! That's true!
But what's the use of talking? Would you permit me to give you a shaking
up? Let's go immediately to a pleasure-house I know. Two sisters live
there. Ah, how they live! You will come?"

"Well, I'll go," said Foma, calmly, and yawned. "Isn't it rather late?"
he asked, looking up at the sky which was covered with clouds.

"It's never too late to go to see them!" exclaimed Ookhtishchev,
merrily.

CHAPTER VIII

ON the third day after the scene in the club, Foma found himself
about seven versts from the town, on the timber-wharf of the merchant
Zvantzev, in the company of the merchant's son of Ookhtishchev--a
sedate, bald-headed and red-nosed gentleman with side whiskers--and four
ladies. The young Zvantzev wore eyeglasses, was thin and pale, and when
he stood, the calves of his legs were forever trembling as though they
were disgusted at supporting the feeble body, clad in a long, checked
top-coat with a cape, in whose folds a small head in a jockey cap was
comically shaking. The gentleman with the side whiskers called him Jean
and pronounced this name as though he was suffering from an inveterate
cold. Jean's lady was a tall, stout woman with a showy bust. Her
head was compressed on the sides, her low forehead receded, her long,
sharp-pointed nose gave her face an expression somewhat bird-like. And
this ugly face was perfectly motionless, and the eyes alone, small,
round and cold, were forever smiling a penetrating and cunning smile.
Ookhtishchev's lady's name was Vera; she was a tall, pale woman with red
hair. She had so much hair, that it seemed as though the woman had put
on her head an enormous cap which was coming down over her ears, her
cheeks and her high forehead, from under which her large blue eyes
looked forth calmly and lazily.

The gentleman with the side whiskers sat beside a young, plump, buxom
girl, who constantly giggled in a ringing voice at something which he
whispered in her ear as he leaned over her shoulder.

And Foma's lady was a stately brunette, clad all in black.
Dark-complexioned, with wavy locks, she kept her head so erect and high
and looked at everything about her with such condesc