“That’s your affair. But nevertheless, what wrong have I done to you?” “You? “I.” “Understand me, I am suffocating! It is close here. Is this life? Is this the way how to live? What am I? I am a hanger-on in my father’s house. They keep me here as a housekeeper. Then they’ll marry me! Again housekeeping. It’s a swamp. I am drowning, suffocating.” “And what have I to do with it?” asked Foma. “You are no better than the others.” “And therefore I am guilty before you?” “Yes, guilty! You must desire to be better.” “But do I not wish it?” exclaimed Foma. The girl was about to tell him something, but at this time the bell began to ring somewhere, and she said in a low voice, leaning back in her chair: “It’s father.” “I would not feel sorry if he stayed away a little longer,” said Foma. “I wish I could listen to you some more. You speak so very oddly.” “Ah! my children, my doves!” exclaimed Yakov Tarasovich, appearing in the doorway. “You’re drinking tea? Pour out some tea for me, Lugava!” Sweetly smiling, and rubbing his hands, he sat down near Foma and asked, playfully jostling him in the side: “What have you been cooing about?” “So--about different trifles,” answered Luba. “I haven’t asked you, have I?” said her father to her, with a grimace. “You just sit there, hold your tongue, and mind your woman’s affairs.” “I’ve been telling her about the dinner,” Foma interrupted his godfather’s words. “Aha! So-o-o. Well, then, I’ll also speak about the dinner. I have been watching you of late. You don’t behave yourself sensibly!” “What do you mean?” asked Foma, knitting his brow, ill pleased. “I just mean that your behaviour is preposterous, and that’s all. When the governor, for instance, speaks to you, you keep quiet.” “What should I tell him? He says that it is a misfortune to lose a father. Well, I know it. What could I tell him?” “But as the Lord willed it so, I do not grumble, your Excellency. That’s what you should have said, or something in this spirit. Governors, my dear, are very fond of meekness in a man.” “Was I to look at him like a lamb?” said Foma, with a smile. “You did look like a lamb, and that was unnecessary. You must look neither like a lamb, nor like a wolf, but just play off before him as though saying: ‘You are our father, we are your children,’ and he will immediately soften.” “And what is this for?” “For any event. A governor, my dear, can always be of use somewhere.” “What do you teach him, papa?” said Luba, indignantly, in a low voice. “Well, what?” “To dance attendance.” “You lie, you learned fool! I teach him politics, not dancing attendance; I teach him the politics of life. You had better leave us alone! Depart from evil, and prepare some lunch for us. Go ahead!” Luba rose quickly and throwing the towel across the back of the chair, left the room. Mayakin, winking his eyes, looked after her, tapped the table with his fingers and said: