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es, and there will be nothing by which to distinguish us from other people. It has become a custom to make Gymnasium students of all children. The merchants, the nobles, the commoners--all are adjusted to match the same colour. They dress them in gray and teach them all the same subjects. They grow man even as they grow a tree. Why do they do it? No one knows. Even a log could be told from another by its knot at least, while here they want to plane the people over so that all of them should look alike. The coffin is already waiting for us old people. Ye-es! It may be that about fifty years hence, no one will believe that I lived in this world. I, Anany, the son of Savva, by the surname of Shchurov. So! And that I, Anany, feared no one, save God. And that in my youth I was a peasant, that all the land I possessed then was two desyatins and a quarter; while toward my old age I have hoarded up eleven thousand desyatins, all forests, and perhaps two millions in cash." "There, they always speak of money!" said Foma, with dissatisfaction. "What joy does man derive from money?" "Mm," bellowed Shchurov. "You will make a poor merchant, if you do not understand the power of money." "Who does understand it?" asked Foma. "I!" said Shchurov, with confidence. "And every clever man. Yashka understands it. Money? That is a great deal, my lad! Just spread it out before you and think, 'What does it contain?' Then will you know that all this is human strength, human mind. Thousands of people have put their life into your money and thousands more will do it. And you can throw it all into the fire and see how the money is burning, and at that moment you will consider yourself master." "But nobody does this." "Because fools have no money. Money is invested in business. Business gives bread to the masses. And you are master over all those masses. Wherefore did God create man? That man should pray to Him. He was alone and He felt lonesome, so He began to desire power, and as man was created in the image of the Lord, man also desires power. And what, save money, can give power? That's the way. Well, and you--have you brought me money?" "No," answered Foma. From the words of the old man Foma's head was heavy and troubled, and he was glad that the conversation had, at last, turned to business matters. "That isn't right," said Shchurov, sternly knitting his brow. "It is overdue--you must pay. "You'll get a half of it tomorrow."
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