y successor!"

And auntie answered him in a crying and reproachful voice:

"Go on. You better go to sleep, you cursed devil! Drunk again, eh? You
are gray already?"

"Anfisa! May I see my son, with one eye?" Foma knew that Anfisa would
not let him in, and he again fell asleep in spite of the noise of
their voices. But when Ignat came home intoxicated during the day he
immediately seized his son with his enormous paws and carried him about
the rooms, asking him with an intoxicated, happy laughter:

"Fomka! What do you wish? Speak! Presents? Playthings? Ask! Because you
must know there's nothing in this world that I wouldn't buy for you. I
have a million! Ha, ha, ha! And I'll have still more! Understand? All's
yours! Ha, ha!"

And suddenly his enthusiasm was extinguished like a candle put out by
a violent puff of the wind. His flushed face began to shake, his eyes,
burning red, filled with tears, and his lips expanded into a sad and
frightened smile.

"Anfisa, in case he should die, what am I to do then?"

And immediately after these words he was seized with fury.

"I'd burn everything!" he roared, staring wildly into some dark corner
of the room. "I'd destroy everything! I'd blow it up with dynamite!"

"Enough, you ugly brute! Do you wish to frighten the child? Or do you
want him to take sick?" interposed Anfisa, and that was sufficient for
Ignat to rush off hastily, muttering:

"Well, well, well! I am going, I am going, but don't cry! Don't make any
noise. Don't frighten him."

And when Foma was somewhat sick, his father, casting everything aside,
did not leave the house for a moment, but bothered his sister and his
son with stupid questions and advice; gloomy, sighing, and with fear in
his eyes, he walked about the house quite out of sorts.

"Why do you vex the Lord?" said Anfisa. "Beware, your grumblings will
reach Him, and He will punish you for your complaints against His
graces."

"Eh, sister!" sighed Ignat. "And if it should happen? My entire life is
crumbling away! Wherefore have I lived? No one knows."

Similar scenes and the striking transitions of his father from one mood
to another frightened the child at first, but he soon became accustomed
to all this, and when he noticed through the window that his father,
on coming home, was hardly able to get out of the sledge, Foma said
indifferently:

"Auntie, papa came home drunk again."

.............................

Spring came, and, fulfillin