ation of
the sedate man, filled with the burning feeling of malignancy, trembling
with the happiness of revenge, Foma dragged him along the floor and in
a dull voice, growled wickedly, in wild joy. In these moments he
experienced a great feeling--the feeling of emancipation from the
wearisome burden which had long oppressed his heart with grief and
morbidness. He felt that he was seized by the waist and shoulders from
behind, that someone seized his hand and bent it, trying to break it;
that someone was crushing his toes; but he saw nothing, following with
his bloodshot eyes the dark, heavy mass moaning and wriggling in his
hand. Finally, they tore him away and downed him, and, as through a
reddish mist, he noticed before him on the floor, at his feet, the man
he had thrashed. Dishevelled, he was moving his legs over the floor,
attempting to rise; two dark men were holding him by the arms, his hands
were dangling in the air like broken wings, and, in a voice that was
choking with sobs, he cried to Foma:

"You mustn't beat me! You mustn't! I have an...

"Order. You rascal! Oh, rascal! I have children.

"Everybody knows me! Scoundrel! Savage, O--O--O! You may expect a duel!"

And Ookhtishchev spoke loudly in Foma's ear:

"Come, my dear boy, for God's sake!"

"Wait, I'll give him a kick in the face," begged Foma. But he was
dragged off. There was a buzzing in his ears, his heart beat fast, but
he felt relieved and well. At the entrance of the club he heaved a deep
sigh of relief and said to Ookhtishchev, with a good-natured smile:

"I gave him a sound drubbing, didn't I?"

"Listen!" exclaimed the gay secretary, indignantly. "You must pardon me
but that was the act of a savage! The devil take it. I never witnessed
such a thing before!"

"My dear man!" said Foma, friendly, "did he not deserve the drubbing? Is
he not a scoundrel? How can he speak like that behind a person's back?
No! Let him go to her and tell it plainly to her alone."

"Excuse me. The devil take you! But it wasn't for her alone that you
gave him the drubbing?"

"That is, what do you mea,--not for her alone? For whom then?" asked
Foma, amazed.

"For whom? I don't know. Evidently you had old accounts to settle! Oh
Lord! That was a scene! I shall not forget it in all my life!"

"He--that man--who is he?" asked Foma, and suddenly burst out laughing.
"How he roared, the fool!"

Ookhtishchev looked fixedly into his face and asked:

"Tell me, is