cause!" mocked the father. "Well, if you did it you ought to be
able to explain to yourself and to others the reason for so doing. Come
here!"

Foma walked up to his father, who was sitting on a chair, and placed
himself between his knees. Ignat put his hand on the boy's shoulders,
and, smiling, looked into his eyes.

"Are you ashamed?"

"I am ashamed," sighed Foma.

"There you have it, fool! You have disgraced me and yourself."

Pressing his son's head to his breast, he stroked his hair and asked
again:

"Why should you do such a thing--stealing other people's apples?"

"I--I don't know," said Foma, confusedly. "Perhaps because it is so
lonesome. I play and play the same thing day after day. I am growing
tired of it! While this is dangerous."

"Exciting?" asked the father, smiling.

"Yes."

"Mm, perhaps it is so. But, nevertheless, Foma, look out--drop this, or
I shall deal with you severely."

"I'll never climb anywhere again," said the boy with confidence.

"And that you take all the blame on yourself--that is good. What will
become of you in the future, only God knows, but meanwhile--it is pretty
good. It is not a trifle if a man is willing to pay for his deeds with
his own skin. Someone else in your place would have blamed his friends,
while you say: 'I did it myself.' That's the proper way, Foma. You
commit the sin, but you also account for it. Didn't Chumakov strike
you?" asked Ignat, pausing as he spoke.

"I would have struck him back," declared Foma, calmly.

"Mm," roared his father, significantly.

"I told him that he was afraid of you. That is why he complained.
Otherwise he was not going to say anything to you about it."

"Is that so?"

"'By God! Present my respects to your father,' he said."

"Did he?"

"Yes."

"Ah! the dog! See what kind of people there are; he is robbed and yet he
makes a bow and presents his respects! Ha, ha! It is true it might have
been worth no more than a kopeck, but a kopeck is to him what a rouble
is to me. And it isn't the kopeck, but since it is mine, no one dares
touch it unless I throw it away myself. Eh! The devil take them! Well,
tell me--where have you been, what have you seen?"

The boy sat down beside his father and told him in detail all the
impressions of that day. Ignat listened, fixedly watching the animated
face of his son, and the eyebrows of the big man contracted pensively.

"You are still but floating on the surface, dear. You are stil