“What’s the use of that? If they had given each of us a glass of vodka instead--that would be a just favour. For the grain is not for us--but for the country Council.” “Eh! They do not understand!” exclaimed the receiver, confused. “I’ll go down and explain it to them.” And he disappeared. But the peasants’ regard for his gift did not interest Foma. He saw that the black eyes of the rosy-cheeked woman were looking at him so strangely and pleasingly. They seemed to thank him and caressingly beckoned him, and besides those eyes he saw nothing. The woman was dressed like the city women. She wore shoes, a calico waist, and over her black hair she had a peculiar kerchief. Tall and supple, seated on a pile of wood, she repaired sacks, quickly moving her hands, which were bare up to the elbows, and she smiled at Foma all the time. “Foma Ignatyich!” he heard Yefim’s reproachful voice, “you’ve showed off too much. Well, if it were only about fifty puds! But why so much? Look out that we don’t get a good scolding for this.” “Leave me alone!” said Foma, shortly. “What is it to me? I’ll keep quiet. But as you are so young, and as I was told to keep an eye on you, I may get a rap on the snout for being heedless.” “I’ll tell my father all about it. Keep quiet!” said Foma. “As for me--let it be so--so that you are master here.” “Very well.” “I have said this, Foma Ignatyich, for your own sake--because you are so young and simple-minded.” “Leave me alone, Yefim!” Yefim heaved a sigh and became silent, while Foma stared at the woman and thought: “I wish they would bring such a woman for sale to me.” His heart beat rapidly. Though as yet physically pure, he already knew from conversations the mysteries of intimate relations between men and women. He knew by rude and shameful names, and these names kindled in him an unpleasant, burning curiosity and shame; his imagination worked obstinately, for he could not picture it to himself in intelligible images. And in his soul he did not believe that those relations were really so simple and rude, as he had been told. When they had laughed at him and assured him that they were such, and, indeed, could not be otherwise, he smiled stupidly and confusedly, but thought nevertheless that the relations with women did not have to be in such a shameful form for everyone, and that, in all probability, there was something purer, less rude and abusive to a human being. Now looking at the dark-eyed working woman with admiration, Foma distinctly felt just that rude inclination toward her, and he was ashamed and afraid of something. And Yefim, standing beside him, said admonitively: “There you are staring at the woman, so that I cannot keep silence any longer. You do not know her, but when she winks at you, you may, because of your youth--and with a nature like yours--you may do such a thing that we’ll have to go home on foot by the shore. And we’ll have to thank God if our trousers at least remain with us.”