Foma told him all about it.

"Hm! Well, that's all right!" Ignat approved. "That's to show what stuff
we are made of. That's clear enough--for the father's honour--for the
honour of the firm. And there is no loss either, because that gives a
good reputation. And that, my dear, is the very best signboard for a
business. Well, what else?"

"And then, I somehow spent more."

"Speak frankly. It's not the money that I am asking you about--I just
want to know how you lived there," insisted Ignat, regarding his son
attentively and sternly.

"I was eating, drinking." Foma did not give in, bending his head
morosely and confusedly.

"Drinking vodka?"

"Vodka, too."

"Ah! So. Isn't it rather too soon?"

"Ask Yefim whether I ever drank enough to be intoxicated."

"Why should I ask Yefim? You must tell me everything yourself. So you
are drinking? I don't like it."

"But I can get along without drinking."

"Come, come! Do you want some cognac?"

Foma looked at his father and smiled broadly. And his father answered
him with a kindly smile:

"Eh, you. Devil! Drink, but look out--know your business. What can
you do? A drunkard will sleep himself sober, a fool--never. Let us
understand this much at least, for our own consolation. And did you have
a good time with girls, too? Be frank! Are you afraid that I will beat
you, or what?"

"Yes. There was one on the steamer. I had her there from Perm to Kazan."

"So," Ignat sighed heavily and said, frowning: "You've become defiled
rather too soon."

"I am twenty years old. And you yourself told me that in your days
fellows married at the age of fifteen," replied Foma, confused.

"Then they married. Very well, then, let us drop the subject.
Well, you've had dealings with a woman. What of it? A woman is like
vaccination, you cannot pass your life without her. As for myself, I
cannot play the hypocrite. I began to go around with women when I was
younger than you are now. But you must be on your guard with them."

Ignat became pensive and was silent for a long time, sitting motionless,
his head bent low on his breast.

"Listen, Foma," he started again, sternly and firmly. "I shall die
before long. I am old. Something oppresses my breast. I breathe with
difficulty. I'll die. Then all my affairs will fall on your shoulders.
At first your godfather will assist you--mind him! You started quite
well; you attended to everything properly; you held the reins firmly
in your hands.