ay, you better use this money for a technical institution. If
it should be established on a small plan, this money alone will suffice,
and in case it shouldn't, we can ask for more in St. Petersburg--they'll
give it to us. Then the city wouldn't have to add of its own money, and
the whole affair would be more sensible."

"Precisely! I fully agree with you! But how the liberals began to cry at
you! Eh? Ha, ha!"

"That has always been their business, to cry."

The deep cough of the archdeacon of the cathedral announced the
beginning of the divine service.

Sophya Pavlovna came up to Foma, greeted him and said in a sad, low
voice:

"I looked at your face on the day of the funeral, and my heart saddened.
My God, I thought, how he must suffer!"

And Foma listened to her and felt as though he was drinking honey.

"These cries of yours, they shook my soul, my poor child! I may speak to
you this way, for I am an old woman already."

"You!" exclaimed Foma, softly.

"Isn't that so?" she asked, naively looking into his face.

Foma was silent, his head bent on his breast.

"Don't you believe that I am an old woman?"

"I believe you; that is, I believe everything you may say; only this is
not true!" said Foma, feelingly, in a low voice.

"What is not true? What do you believe me?"

"No! not this, but that. I--excuse me! I cannot speak!" said Foma,
sadly, all aflush with confusion. "I am not cultured."

"You need not trouble yourself on this account," said Medinskaya,
patronisingly. "You are so young, and education is accessible
to everybody. But there are people to whom education is not only
unnecessary, but who can also be harmed by it. Those that are pure of
heart, sanguine, sincere, like children, and you are of those people.
You are, are you not?"

What could Foma say in answer to this question? He said sincerely:

"I thank you humbly!"

And noticing that his words called forth a gay gleam in Medinskaya's
eyes, Foma appeared ridiculous and stupid in his own eyes; he
immediately became angry at himself and said in a muffled voice:

"Yes, I am such. I always speak my mind. I cannot deceive. If I see
something to laugh at, I laugh openly. I am stupid!"

"What makes you speak that way?" said the woman, reproachfully, and
adjusting her dress, she accidentally stroked Foma's hand, in which he
held his hat. This made him look at his wrist and smile joyously and
confusedly.

"You will surely be present at the