ar kerchief. Tall and supple,
seated on a pile of wood, she repaired sacks, quickly moving her hands,
which were bare up to the elbows, and she smiled at Foma all the time.

"Foma Ignatyich!" he heard Yefim's reproachful voice, "you've showed off
too much. Well, if it were only about fifty puds! But why so much? Look
out that we don't get a good scolding for this."

"Leave me alone!" said Foma, shortly.

"What is it to me? I'll keep quiet. But as you are so young, and as I
was told to keep an eye on you, I may get a rap on the snout for being
heedless."

"I'll tell my father all about it. Keep quiet!" said Foma.

"As for me--let it be so--so that you are master here."

"Very well."

"I have said this, Foma Ignatyich, for your own sake--because you are so
young and simple-minded."

"Leave me alone, Yefim!"

Yefim heaved a sigh and became silent, while Foma stared at the woman
and thought:

"I wish they would bring such a woman for sale to me."

His heart beat rapidly. Though as yet physically pure, he already knew
from conversations the mysteries of intimate relations between men and
women. He knew by rude and shameful names, and these names kindled in
him an unpleasant, burning curiosity and shame; his imagination worked
obstinately, for he could not picture it to himself in intelligible
images. And in his soul he did not believe that those relations were
really so simple and rude, as he had been told. When they had laughed
at him and assured him that they were such, and, indeed, could not be
otherwise, he smiled stupidly and confusedly, but thought nevertheless
that the relations with women did not have to be in such a shameful form
for everyone, and that, in all probability, there was something purer,
less rude and abusive to a human being.

Now looking at the dark-eyed working woman with admiration, Foma
distinctly felt just that rude inclination toward her, and he was
ashamed and afraid of something. And Yefim, standing beside him, said
admonitively:

"There you are staring at the woman, so that I cannot keep silence any
longer. You do not know her, but when she winks at you, you may, because
of your youth--and with a nature like yours--you may do such a thing
that we'll have to go home on foot by the shore. And we'll have to thank
God if our trousers at least remain with us."

"What do you want?" asked Foma, red with confusion.

"I want nothing. And you had better mind me. In regard to affairs wi