blended with the crimson stuff
of the armchair, while her wavy, golden hair and her pale face shone
against the dark background. Sitting there in the corner, beneath the
green leaves, she looked at once like a flower, and like an ikon.

"See, Sophya Pavlovna, how he is staring at you. An eagle, eh?" said
Ignat.

Her eyes became narrower, a faint blush leaped to her cheeks, and she
burst into laughter. It sounded like the tinkling of a little silver
bell. And she immediately arose, saying:

"I wouldn't disturb you. Good-bye!"

When she went past Foma noiselessly, the scent of perfume came to him,
and he noticed that her eyes were dark blue, and her eyebrows almost
black.

"The sly rogue glided away," said Mayakin in a low voice, angrily
looking after her.

"Well, tell us how was the trip? Have you squandered much money?" roared
Ignat, pushing his son into the same armchair where Medinskaya had been
sitting awhile before. Foma looked at him askance and seated himself in
another chair.

"Isn't she a beautiful young woman, eh?" said Mayakin, smiling, feeling
Foma with his cunning eyes. "If you keep on gaping at her she will eat
away all your insides."

Foma shuddered for some reason or other, and, saying nothing in reply,
began to tell his father about the journey in a matter-of-fact tone. But
Ignat interrupted him:

"Wait, I'll ask for some cognac."

"And you are keeping on drinking all the time, they say," said Foma,
disapprovingly.

Ignat glanced at his son with surprise and curiosity, and asked:

"Is this the way to speak to your father?"

Foma became confused and lowered his head.

"That's it!" said Ignat, kind-heartedly, and ordered cognac to be
brought to him.

Mayakin, winking his eyes, looked at the Gordyeeffs, sighed, bid them
good-bye, and, after inviting them to have tea with him in his raspberry
garden in the evening, went away.

"Where is Aunt Anfisa?" asked Foma, feeling that now, being alone with
his father, he was somewhat ill at ease.

"She went to the cloister. Well, tell me, and I will have some cognac."

Foma told his father all about his affairs in a few minutes and he
concluded his story with a frank confession:

"I have spent much money on myself."

"How much?"

"About six hundred roubles."

"In six weeks! That's a good deal. I see as a clerk you're too expensive
for me. Where have you squandered it all?"

"I gave away three hundred puds of grain."

"To whom? How?"