imace and were
quivering, and from his small eyes frequent tears were running over the
now contracted wrinkles of his face. He looked so pitiful and so unlike
himself, that Foma stopped short, pressed him close to his body with the
tenderness of a strong man and cried with alarm:

"Don't cry, father--darling! Don't cry."

"There you have it!" said Mayakin, faintly, and, heaving a deep sigh, he
suddenly turned again into a firm and clever old man.

"You must not cry," said he, mysteriously, seating himself in the
carriage beside his godson. "You are now the commander-in-chief in the
war and you must command your soldiers bravely. Your soldiers are the
roubles, and you have a great army of these. Make war incessantly!"

Surprised at the quickness of his transformation, Foma listened to his
words and for some reason or other they reminded him of those clods of
earth, which the people threw into Ignat's grave upon his coffin.

"On whom am I to make war?" said Foma with a sigh.

"I'll teach you that! Did your father tell you that I was a clever old
man and that you should mind me?"

"He did."

"Then do mind me! If my mind should be added to your youthful strength,
a good victory might be won. Your father was a great man, but he did not
look far before him and he could not take my advice. He gained success
in life not with his mind, but more with his head. Oh, what will become
of you? You had better move into my house, for you will feel lonesome in
yours."

"Aunt is there."

"Aunt? She is sick. She will not live long."

"Do not speak of it," begged Foma in a low voice.

"And I will speak of it. You need not fear death--you are not an old
woman on the oven. Live fearlessly and do what you were appointed to
do. Man is appointed for the organisation of life on earth. Man is
capital--like a rouble, he is made up of trashy copper groshes and
copecks. From the dust of the earth, as it is said; and even as he
has intercourse with the world, he absorbs grease and oil, sweat and
tears--a soul and a mind form themselves in him. And from this he starts
to grow upward and downward. Now, you see his price is a grosh, now a
fifteen copeck silver piece, now a hundred roubles, and sometimes he is
above any price. He is put into circulation and he must bring interests
to life. Life knows the value of each of us and will not check our
course before time. Nobody, dear, works to his own detriment, if he is
wise. And life has saved