dilapidated table, and near it a deep armchair,
covered with oilcloth, in which Mayakin sat all day long, sipping
tea and always reading the same "Moskovskiya Vedomosty," to which he
subscribed, year in and year out, all his life. Among merchants he
enjoyed the respect and reputation of a "brainy" man, and he was very
fond of boasting of the antiquity of his race, saying in a hoarse voice:

"We, the Mayakins, were merchants during the reign of 'Mother'
Catherine, consequently I am a pure-blooded man."

In this family Ignat Gordyeeff's son lived for six years. By the time
he was seven years old Foma was a big-headed, broad-shouldered boy,
seemingly older that his years, both in his size and in the serious look
of his dark, almond-shaped eyes. Quiet, silent and persistent in his
childish desires, he spent all his days over his playthings, with
Mayakin's daughter, Luba, quietly looked after by one of the kinswomen,
a stout, pock-marked old maid, who was, for some reason or other,
nicknamed "Buzya." She was a dull, somewhat timid creature; and even to
the children she spoke in a low voice, in words of monosyllables. Having
devoted her time to learning prayers, she had no stories to tell Foma.

Foma was on friendly terms with the little girl, but when she angered
or teased him he turned pale, his nostrils became distended, his eyes
stared comically and he beat her audaciously. She cried, ran to her
mother and complained to her, but Antonina loved Foma and she paid but
little attention to her daughter's complaints, which strengthened the
friendship between the children still more. Foma's day was long and
uniform. Getting out of bed and washing himself, he used to place
himself before the image, and under the whispering of the pock-marked
Buzya he recited long prayers. Then they drank tea and ate many
biscuits, cakes and pies. After tea--during the summer--the children
went to the big palisade, which ran down to a ravine, whose bottom
always looked dark and damp, filling them with terror. The children were
not allowed to go even to the edge of the ravine, and this inspired in
them a fear of it. In winter, from tea time to dinner, they played in
the house when it was very cold outside, or went out in the yard to
slide down the big ice hill.

They had dinner at noon, "in Russian style," as Mayakin said. At first a
big bowl of fat, sour cabbage soup was served with rye biscuits in,
but without meat, then the same soup was eat