The strings trembled and wept under the touch of her fingers, and it seemed to Foma that their sounds and the soft voice of the woman were touching his heart gently and caressingly. But, still firm in his decision, he listened to her words and, not knowing their meaning, thought: “You may speak! And I won’t believe anything you may say.” This thought irritated him. And he felt sorry that he could not listen to her words as attentively and trustfully as before. “Are you thinking of how it is necessary to live?” asked the woman. “Sometimes I think of it, and then I forget again. I have no time for it!” said Foma and smiled. “And then, what is there to think of? It is simple. You see how others live. Well, consequently, you must imitate them.” “Ah, don’t do this! Spare yourself. You are so good! There is something peculiar in you; what--I do not know. But it can be felt. And it seems to me, it will be very hard for you to get along in life. I am sure, you will not go along the usual way of the people of your circle. No! You cannot be pleased with a life which is wholly devoted to gain, to hunts after the rouble, to this business of yours. Oh, no! I know, you will have a desire for something else, will you not?” She spoke quickly, with a look of alarm in her eyes. Looking at her, Foma thought: “What is she driving at?” And he answered her slowly: “Perhaps I will have a desire for something else. Perhaps I have it already.” Drawing up closer to him, she looked into his face and spoke convincingly: “Listen! Do not live like all other people! Arrange your life somehow differently. You are strong, young. You are good!” “And if I am good then there must be good for me!” exclaimed Foma, feeling that he was seized with agitation, and that his heart was beginning to beat with anxiety. “Ah, but that is not the case! Here on earth it is worse for the good people than for the bad ones!” said Medinskaya, sadly. And again the trembling notes of music began to dance at the touch of her fingers. Foma felt that if he did not start to say at once what was necessary, he would tell her nothing later. “God bless me!” he said to himself, and in a lowered voice, strengthening his heart, began: “Sophya Pavlovna! Enough! I have something to say. I have come to tell you: ‘Enough!’ We must deal fairly, openly. At first you have attracted me to yourself, and now you are fencing away from me. I cannot understand what you say. My mind is dull, but I can feel that you wish to hide yourself. I can see it--do you understand now what brought me here?” His eyes began to flash and with each word his voice became warmer and louder. She moved her body forward and said with alarm: “Oh, cease.” “No, I won’t, I will speak!” “I know what you want to say.” “You don’t know it all!” said Foma, threateningly, rising to his feet. “But I know everything about you--everything.” “Yes? Then the better it is for me,” said Medinskaya, calmly.