our
godfather up as mayor--that old devil! Like the devil, he is immortal,
although he must be upwards of a hundred and fifty years old already.
He marries his daughter to Smolin. You remember that red-headed fellow.
They say that he is a decent man, but nowadays they even call clever
scoundrels decent men, because there are no men. Now Africashka plays
the enlightened man; he has already managed to get into intelligent
society, donated something to some enterprise or another and thus at
once came to the front. Judging from his face, he is a sharper of the
highest degree, but he will play a prominent part, for he knows how
to adapt himself. Yes, friend, Africashka is a liberal. And a liberal
merchant is a mixture of a wolf and a pig with a toad and a snake."

"The devil take them all!" said Foma, waving his hand indifferently.
"What have I to do with them? How about yourself--do you still keep on
drinking?"

"I do! Why shouldn't I drink?"

Half-clad and dishevelled, Yozhov looked like a plucked bird, which had
just had a fight and had not yet recovered from the excitement of the
conflict.

"I drink because, from time to time, I must quench the fire of my
wounded heart. And you, you damp stump, you are smouldering little by
little?"

"I have to go to the old man," said Foma, wrinkling his face.

"Chance it!"

"I don't feel like going. He'll start to lecture me."

"Then don't go!"

"But I must."

"Then go!"

"Why do you always play the buffoon?" said Foma, with displeasure, "as
though you were indeed merry."

"By God, I feel merry!" exclaimed Yozhov, jumping down from the table.
"What a fine roasting I gave a certain gentleman in the paper yesterday!
And then--I've heard a clever anecdote: A company was sitting on the
sea-shore philosophizing at length upon life. And a Jew said to them:
'Gentlemen, why do you employ so many different words? I'll tell it to
you all at once: Our life is not worth a single copeck, even as this
stormy sea! '"

"Eh, the devil take you!" said Foma. "Good-bye. I am going."

"Go ahead! I am in a fine frame of mind to-day and I will not moan with
you. All the more so considering you don't moan, but grunt."

Foma went away, leaving Yozhov singing at the top of his voice:

"Beat the drum and fear not."

"Drum? You are a drum yourself;" thought Foma, with irritation, as he
slowly came out on the street.

At the Mayakins he was met by Luba. Agitated and animated, she suddenly