rstand that you exist
today only through the patience of mankind?"

"What does this mean?" exclaimed Reznikov, clasping his hands in rage
and indignation. "Ilya Yefimov, what's this? I can't bear to hear such
words."

"Gordyeeff!" cried Bobrov. "Look out, you speak improper words."

"For such words you'll get--oi, oi, oi!" said Zubov, insinuatingly.

"Silence!" roared Foma, with blood-shot eyes. "Now they're grunting."

"Gentlemen!" rang out Mayakin's calm, malicious voice, like the screech
of a smooth-file on iron. "Don't touch him! I entreat you earnestly, do
not hinder him. Let him snarl. Let him amuse himself. His words cannot
harm you."

"Well, no, I humbly thank you!" cried Yushkov. And close at Foma's side
stood Smolin and whispered in his ear:

"Stop, my dear boy! What's the matter with you? Are you out of your
wits? They'll do you--!"

"Get away!" said Foma, firmly, flashing his angry eyes at him. "You go
to Mayakin and flatter him, perhaps something will come your way!"

Smolin whistled through his teeth and stepped aside. And the merchants
began to disperse on the steamer, one by one. This irritated Foma still
more he wished he could chain them to the spot by his words, but he
could not find such powerful words.

"You have built up life!" he shouted. "Who are you? Swindlers, robbers."

A few men turned toward Foma, as if he had called them.

"Kononov! are they soon going to try you for that little girl? They'll
convict you to the galleys. Goodbye, Ilya! You are building your
steamers in vain. They'll transport you to Siberia on a government
vessel."

Kononov sank into a chair; his blood leaped to his face, and he shook
his fist in silence. Foma said hoarsely:

"Very well. Good. I shall not forget it."

Foma saw his distorted face with its trembling lips, and understood with
what weapons he could deal these men the most forcible blows.

"Ha, ha, ha! Builders of life! Gushchin, do you give alms to your little
nephews and nieces? Give them at least a copeck a day. You have stolen
sixty-seven thousand roubles from them. Bobrov! why did you lie about
that mistress of yours, saying that she had robbed you, and then send
her to prison? If you had grown tired of her, you might have given her
over to your son. Anyway he has started an intrigue with that other
mistress of yours. Didn't you know it? Eh, you fat pig, ha, ha! And you,
Lup, open again a brothel, and fleece your guests there as before. An