oma thought:

"He speaks sensibly. It's evident he can reason well."

The lack of attention shown to Foma somewhat offended him and aroused in
him at the same time a feeling of respect for these men with dark faces
impregnated with lead-dust. Almost all of them were engaged in practical
serious conversation, and their remarks were studded with certain
peculiar words. None of them fawned upon him, none bothered him with
love, with his back to the fire, and he saw before him a row of brightly
illuminated, cheerful and simple faces. They were all excited from
drinking, but were not yet intoxicated; they laughed, jested, tried to
sing, drank, and ate cucumbers, white bread and sausages. All this had
for Foma a particularly pleasant flavour; he grew bolder, seized by
the general good feeling, and he longed to say something good to these
people, to please them all in some way or other. Yozhov, sitting by
his side, moved about on the ground, jostled him with his shoulder and,
shaking his head, muttered something indistinctly.

"Brethren!" shouted the stout fellow. "Let's strike up the student song.
Well, one, two!"

"Swift as the waves,"

Someone roared in his bass voice:

"Are the days of our life."

"Friends!" said Yozhov, rising to his feet, a glass in his hand. He
staggered, and leaned his other hand against Foma's head. The started
song was broken off, and all turned their heads toward him.

"Working men! Permit me to say a few words, words from the heart. I am
happy in your company! I feel well in your midst. That is because you
are men of toil, men whose right to happiness is not subject to doubt,
although it is not recognised. In your ennobling midst, Oh honest
people, the lonely man, who is poisoned by life, breathes so easily, so
freely."

Yozhov's voice quivered and quaked, and his head began to shake. Foma
felt that something warm trickled down on his hand, and he looked up at
the wrinkled face of Yozhov, who went on speaking, trembling in every
limb:

"I am not the only one. There are many like myself, intimidated by fate,
broken and suffering. We are more unfortunate than you are, because
we are weaker both in body and in soul, but we are stronger than you
because we are armed with knowledge, which we have no opportunity to
apply. We are gladly ready to come to you and resign ourselves to you
and help you to live. There is nothing else for us to do! Without you
we are without ground to stan