Not long ago Foma appeared in the streets of the town. He is worn out, shabby and half-witted. Almost always intoxicated, he appears now gloomy, with knitted brow, and with head bent down on his breast, now smiling the pitiful and melancholy smile of a silly fanatic. Sometimes he is turbulent, but that happens rarely. He lives with his foster-sister in a little wing in the yard. His acquaintances among the merchants and citizens often ridicule him. As Foma walks along the street, suddenly someone shouts to him: “Eh, you prophet, come here!” Yet he rarely goes to those who call him; he shuns people and does not care to speak with them. But when he does approach them they say to him: “Well, tell us something about doomsday, won’t you? Ha, ha, ha! Prophet!” End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Foma Gordyeff, by Maxim Gorky