Others bend their backs over their work all their lives, and yet they have not even a grosh. And the difference in people is very insignificant. There are some that have not even any trousers and yet they reason as though they were attired in silks."Carried away by his thoughts, Foma would have continued to give them utterance, but Taras moved his armchair away from the table, rose and said softly, with a sigh:
"No, thank you! I don't want any more."
Foma broke off his speech abruptly, shrugged his shoulders and looked at Lubov with a smile.
"Where have you picked up such philosophy?" she asked, suspiciously and drily.
"That is not philosophy. That is simply torture!" said Foma in an undertone. "Open your eyes and look at everything. Then you will think so yourself.""By the way, Luba, turn your attention to the fact," began Taras, standing with his back toward the table and scrutinizing the clock, "that pessimism is perfectly foreign to the Anglo-Saxon race. That which they call pessimism in Swift and in Byron is only a burning, sharp protest against the imperfection of life and man. But you cannot find among them the cold, well weighed and passive pessimism."Then, as though suddenly recalling Foma, he turned to him, clasping his hands behind his back, and, wriggling his thigh, said:
"You raise very important questions, and if you are seriously interested in them you must read books. In them will you find many very valuable opinions as to the meaning of life. How about you--do you read books?""No!" replied Foma, briefly.
"Ah!"
"I don't like them."
"Aha! But they might nevertheless be of some help to you," said Taras, and a smile passed across his lips.
"Books? Since men cannot help me in my thoughts books can certainly do nothing for me," ejaculated Foma, morosely.
He began to feel awkward and weary with this indifferent man. He felt like going away, but at the same time he wished to tell Lubov something insulting about her brother, and he waited till Taras would leave the room. Lubov washed the dishes; her face was concentrated and thoughtful; her hands moved lazily. Taras was pacing the room, now and then he stopped short before the sideboard on which was the silverware, whistled, tapped his fingers against the window-panes and examined the articles with his eyes half shut. The pendulum of the clock flashed beneath the glass door of the case like some broad, grinning face, and monotonously told the seconds. When Foma noticed that Lubov glanced at him a few times questioningly, with expectant and hostile looks, he understood that he was in her way and that she was impatiently expecting him to leave.
"I am going to stay here over night," said he, with a smile. "Imust speak with my godfather. And then it is rather lonesome in my house alone.""Then go and tell Marfusha to make the bed for you in the corner room," Lubov hastened to advise him.
"I shall."
He arose and went out of the dining-room. And he soon heard that Taras asked his sister about something in a low voice.
"About me!" he thought. Suddenly this wicked thought flashed through his mind: "It were but right to listen and hear what wise people have to say."He laughed softly, and, stepping on tiptoe, went noiselessly into the other room, also adjoining the dining-room. There was no light there, and only a thin band of light from the dining-room, passing through the unclosed door, lay on the dark floor. Softly, with sinking heart and malicious smile, Foma walked up close to the door and stopped.
"He's a clumsy fellow," said Taras.
Then came Lubov's lowered and hasty speech:
"He was carousing here all the time. He carried on dreadfully! It all started somehow of a sudden. The first thing he did was to thrash the son-in-law of the Vice-Governor at the Club. Papa had to take the greatest pains to hush up the scandal, and it was a good thing that the Vice-Governor's son-in-law is a man of very bad reputation. He is a card-sharper and in general a shady personality, yet it cost father more than two thousand roubles.
And while papa was busying himself about that scandal Foma came near drowning a whole company on the Volga.""Ha-ha! How monstrous! And that same man busies himself with investigating as to the meaning of life.""On another occasion he was carousing on a steamer with a company of people like himself. Suddenly he said to them: 'Pray to God!
I'll fling every one of you overboard!' He is frightfully strong.
They screamed, while he said: 'I want to serve my country. I want to clear the earth of base people.'""Really? That's clever!"
"He's a terrible man! How many wild pranks he has perpetrated during these years! How much money he has squandered!""And, tell me, on what conditions does father manage his affairs for him? Do you know?""No, I don't. He has a full power of attorney. Why do you ask?""Simply so. It's a solid business. Of course it is conducted in purely Russian fashion; in other words, it is conducted abominably. But it is a splendid business, nevertheless. If it were managed properly it would be a most profitable gold mine.""Foma does absolutely nothing. Everything is in father's hands.""Yes? That's fine."
"Do you know, sometimes it occurs to me that his thoughtful frame of mind--that these words of his are sincere, and that he can be very decent. But I cannot reconcile his scandalous life with his words and arguments. I cannot do it under any circumstances!""It isn't even worthwhile to bother about it. The stripling and lazy bones seeks to justify his laziness.""No. You see, at times he is like a child. He was particularly so before.""Well, that's what I have said: he's a stripling. Is it worth while talking about an ignoramus and a savage, who wishes to remain an ignoramus and a savage, and does not conceal the fact?
You see: he reasons as the bear in the fable bent the shafts.""You are very harsh."
