Yozhov's
yellow, thin little hand in his big, swarthy paw and pressed it.

"Goodbye!"

Then he nodded toward Foma and went through the door sideways.

"Have you seen?" Yozhov asked Foma, pointing his hand at the door,
behind which the heavy footsteps still resounded.

"What sort of a man is he?"

"Assistant machinist, Vaska Krasnoshchokov. Here, take an example from
him: At the age of fifteen he began to study, to read and write, and at
twenty-eight he has read the devil knows how many good books, and has
mastered two languages to perfection. Now he's going abroad."

"What for?" inquired Foma.

"To study. To see how people live there, while you languish here--what
for?"

"He spoke sensibly of the fools," said Foma, thoughtfully.

"I don't know, for I am not a fool."

"That was well said. The stupid man ought to act at once. Rush forward
and overturn."

"There, he's broken loose!" exclaimed Yozhov. "You better tell me
whether it is true that Mayakin's son has returned?"

"Yes."

"Why do you ask?"

"Nothing."

"I can see by your face that there is something."

"We know all about his son; we've heard about him."

"But I have seen him."

"Well? What sort of man is he?"

"The devil knows him! What have I to do with him?"

"Is he like his father?"

"He's stouter, plumper; there is more seriousness about him; he is so
cold."

"Which means that he will be even worse than Yashka. Well, now, my dear,
be on your guard or they will suck you dry."

"Well, let them do it!"

"They'll rob you. You'll become a pauper. That Taras fleeced his
father-in-law in Yekateringburg so cleverly."

"Let him fleece me too, if he likes. I shall not say a word to him
except 'thanks.'"

"You are still singing that same old tune?"

"Yes."

"To be set at liberty."

"Yes."

"Drop it! What do you want freedom for? What will you do with it? Don't
you know that you are not fit for anything, that you are illiterate,
that you certainly cannot even split a log of wood? Now, if I could only
free myself from the necessity of drinking vodka and eating bread!"

Yozhov jumped to his feet, and, stopping in front of Foma, began to
speak in a loud voice, as though declaiming:

"I would gather together the remains of my wounded soul, and together
with the blood of my heart I would spit them into the face of our
intelligent society, the devil take it! I would say to them:

'You insects, you are the best sap of my country! T