aces of his long sinewy arms. And now, awaiting death, which
was already somewhere beside him, he counts his sins, judges others, and
perhaps judges himself, and says:

"Who, but the Lord, is my judge?"

"Is he afraid or not?" Foma asked himself and became pensive, stealthily
scrutinising the old man.

"Yes, my lad! Think," spoke Shchurov, shaking his head, "think, how you
are to live. The capital in your heart is small, and your habits are
great, see that you are not reduced to bankruptcy before your own self!
Ho-ho-ho!"

"How can you tell what and how much I have within my heart?" said Foma,
gloomily, offended by his laughter.

"I can see it! I know everything, because I have lived long! Oh-ho-ho!
How long I have lived! Trees have grown up and been cut down, and houses
built out of them, and even the houses have grown old. While I have seen
all this and am still alive, and when, at times, I recall my life, I
think, 'Is it possible that one man could accomplish so much? Is it
possible that I have witnessed all this?'" The old man glanced at Foma
sternly, shook his head and became silent.

It became quiet. Outside the window something was softly rustling on
the roof of the house; the rattle of wheels and the muffled sounds of
conversation were heard from below, from the street. The samovar on the
table sang a sad tune. Shchurov was fixedly staring into his glass of
tea, stroking his beard, and one could hear that something rattled in
his breast, as if some burden was turning about in it.

"It's hard for you to live without your father, isn't it?" said he.

"I am getting used to it," replied Foma.

"You are rich, and when Yakov dies, you will be richer still. He'll
leave everything to you."

"I don't need it."

"To whom else should he leave it? He has but one daughter, and you
ought to marry that daughter, and that she is your godsister and
foster-sister--no matter! That can be arranged--and then you would be
married. What good is there in the life you are now leading? I suppose
you are forever running about with the girls?"

"No."

"You don't say! Eh, eh, eh! the merchant is passing away. A certain
forester told me--I don't know whether he lied or not--that in former
days the dogs were wolves, and then degenerated into dogs. It is the
same with our calling; we will soon also be dogs. We will take up
science, put stylish hats on our heads, we'll do everything that is
necessary in order to lose our featur