And though you did squander a big sum of money, it is
evident that you did not lose your head. God grant the same in the
future. You should know this: business is a living, strong beast; you
must manage it ably; you must put a strong bridle on it or it will
conquer you. Try to stand above your business. Place yourself so that it
will all be under your feet; that each little tack shall be visible to
you."

Foma looked at his father's broad chest, heard his heavy voice and
thought to himself:

"Oh, but you won't die so soon!"

This thought pleased him and awakened in him a kind, warm feeling for
his father.

"Rely upon your godfather. He has enough common sense in his head to
supply the whole town with it. All he lacks is courage, or he would have
risen high. Yes, I tell you my days on earth are numbered. Indeed, it
is high time to prepare myself for death; to cast everything aside; to
fast, and see to it that people bear me good-will."

"They will!" said Foma with confidence.

"If there were but a reason why they should."

"And the lodging-house?"

Ignat looked at his son and began to laugh.

"Yakov has had time to tell it to you already! The old miser. He must
have abused me?"

"A little." Foma smiled.

"Of course! Don't I know him?"

"He spoke of it as though it were his own money."

Ignat leaned back in his chair and burst into still louder laughter.

"The old raven, eh? That's quite true. Whether it be his own money or
mine, it is all the same to him. There he is trembling now. He has an
aim in view, the bald-headed fellow. Can you tell me what it is?"

Foma thought awhile and said:

"I don't know."

"Eh, you're stupid. He wants to tell our fortunes."

"How is that?"

"Come now, guess!"

Foma looked at his father and--guessed it. His face became gloomy, he
slightly raised himself from the armchair and said resolutely:

"No, I don't want to. I shall not marry her!"

"Oh? Why so? She is a strong girl; she is not foolish; she's his only
child."

"And Taras? The lost one? But I--I don't want to at all!"

"The lost one is gone, consequently it is not worthwhile speaking of
him. There is a will, dear, which says: 'All my movable and real estates
shall go to my daughter, Lubov.' And as to the fact that she is your
godfather's daughter, we'll set this right."

"It is all the same," said Foma, firmly. "I shall not marry her!"

"Well, it is rather early to speak of it now! But why do you dis