e now, don't cry!"

She wiped her eyes and asked:

"What about Foma?"

"He's rebellious. Ha! ha! he says: 'Take away my property, give me
freedom!' He wants to save his soul in the kabak. That's what entered
Foma's head."

"Well, what is this?" asked Lubov, irresolutely. She wanted to say that
Foma's desire was good, that it was a noble desire if it were earnest,
but she feared to irritate her father with her words, and she only gazed
at him questioningly.

"What is it?" said Mayakin, excitedly, trembling. "That either comes to
him from excessive drinking, or else--Heaven forbid--from his mother,
the orthodox spirit. And if this heathenish leaven is going to rise in
him I'll have to struggle hard with him! There will be a great conflict
between us. He has come out, breast foremost, against me; he has at once
displayed great audacity. He's young--there's not much cunning in him
as yet. He says: 'I'll drink away everything, everything will go up in
smoke! I'll show you how to drink!'"

Mayakin lifted his hand over his head, and, clenching his fist,
threatened furiously.

"How dare you? Who established the business? Who built it up? You? Your
father. Forty years of labour were put into it, and you wish to destroy
it? We must all go to our places here all together as one man, there
cautiously, one by one. We merchants, tradesmen, have for centuries
carried Russia on our shoulders, and we are still carrying it. Peter the
Great was a Czar of divine wisdom, he knew our value. How he supported
us! He had printed books for the express purpose of teaching us
business. There I have a book which was printed at his order by Polidor
Virgily Oorbansky, about inventory, printed in 1720. Yes, one must
understand this. He understood it, and cleared the way for us. And now
we stand on our own feet, and we feel our place. Clear the way for us!
We have laid the foundation of life, instead of bricks we have laid
ourselves in the earth. Now we must build the stories. Give us freedom
of action! That's where we must hold our course. That's where the
problem lies; but Foma does not comprehend this. But he must understand
it, must resume the work. He has his father's means. When I die mine
will be added to his. Work, you puppy! And he is raving. No, wait! I'll
lift you up to the proper point!"

The old man was choking with agitation and with flashing eyes looked at
his daughter so furiously as though Foma were sitting in her place. His