mare. Oh!"

And he threatened Foma with his fist. Then he filled the glass with more
brandy, and emptied it again.

A few minutes later Foma lay undressed on the lounge, and, with
half-shut eyes, followed Yozhov who sat by the table in an awkward
pose. He stared at the floor, and his lips were quietly moving. Foma was
astonished, he could not make out why Yozhov had become angry at him.
It could not be because he had been ordered to move out. For it was he
himself who had been shouting.

"Oh devil!" whispered Yozhov, and gnashed his teeth.

Foma quietly lifted his head from the pillow. Yozhov deeply and noisily
sighing, again stretched out his hand toward the bottle. Then Foma said
to him softly:

"Let's go to some hotel. It isn't late yet."

Yozhov looked at him, and, rubbing his head with his hands, began to
laugh strangely. Then he rose from his chair and said to Foma curtly:

"Dress yourself!"

And seeing how clumsily and slowly he turned on the lounge, Yozhov
shouted with anger and impatience:

"Well, be quicker! You personification of stupidity. You symbolical
cart-shaft."

"Don't curse!" said Foma, with a peaceable smile. "Is it worthwhile to
be angry because a woman has cackled?"

Yozhov glanced at him, spat and burst into harsh laughter.

CHAPTER XIII

"ARE all here?" asked Ilya Yefimovich Kononov, standing on the bow of
his new steamer, and surveying the crowd of guests with beaming eyes.

"It seems to be all!"

And raising upward his stout, red, happy-looking face, he shouted to
the captain, who was already standing on the bridge, beside the
speaking-tube:

"Cast off, Petrukha!"

"Yes, sir!"

The captain bared his huge, bald head, made the sign of the cross,
glancing up at the sky, passed his hand over his wide, black beard,
cleared his throat, and gave the command:

"Back!"

The guests watched the movements of the captain silently and
attentively, and, emulating his example, they also began to cross
themselves, at which performance their caps and high hats flashed
through the air like a flock of black birds.

"Give us Thy blessing, Oh Lord!" exclaimed Kononov with emotion.

"Let go astern! Forward!" ordered the captain. The massive "Ilya
Murometz," heaving a mighty sigh, emitted a thick column of white steam
toward the side of the landing-bridge, and started upstream easily, like
a swan.

"How it started off," enthusiastically exclaimed commercial counsellor
Lup Grigoryev