the man who was afraid-第52节
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〃You are the rotten disease of your father； who； though he was a plunderer； was nevertheless a worthy man in comparison with you。〃
Because of the unexpectedness of this； and because of his wrath； Foma's heart shrank。 He fiercely opened his eyes wide and kept silent； finding no words to reply to this insolence。 And the man； standing before him； went on hoarsely； with animation； beastlike rolling his large； but dim and swollen； eyes：
〃You demand of us respect for you； you fool！ How have you merited it？ Who are you？ A drunkard； drinking away the fortune of your father。 You savage！ You ought to be proud that I； a renowned artist； a disinterested and faithful worshipper at the shrine of art； drink from the same bottle with you！ This bottle contains sandal and molasses； infused with snuff…tobacco； while you think it is port wine。 It is your license for the name of savage and ass。〃
〃Eh； you jailbird！〃 roared Foma； rushing toward the artist。 But he was seized and held back。 Struggling in the arms of those that seized him； he was compelled to listen without replying； to the thundering； deep and heavy bass of the man who resembled a swab。
〃You have thrown to men a few copecks out of the stolen roubles； and you consider yourself a hero！ You are twice a thief。 You have stolen the roubles and now you are stealing gratitude for your few copecks！ But I shall not give it to you！ I； who have devoted all my life to the condemnation of vice； I stand before you and say openly： 'You are a fool and a beggar because you are too rich！ Here lies the wisdom： all the rich are beggars。' That's how the famous coupletist； Rimsky…Kannibalsky； serves Truth！〃
Foma was now standing meekly among the people that had closely surrounded him； and he eagerly listened to the coupletist's thundering words； which now aroused in him a sensation as though somebody was scratching a sore spot； and thus soothing the acute itching of the pain。 The people were excited； some attempted to check the coupletist's flow of eloquence； others wanted to lead Foma away somewhere。 Without saying a word he pushed them aside and listened； more and more absorbed by the intense pleasure of humiliation which he felt in the presence of these people。 The pain irritated by the words of the coupletist； caressed Foma's soul more and more passionately； and the coupletist went on thundering； intoxicated with the impurity of his accusation：
〃You think that you are the master of life？ You are the low slave of the rouble。〃
Someone in the crowd hiccoughed； and； evidently displeased with himself for this； cursed each time he hiccoughed：
〃0h devil。〃
And a certain； unshaven； fat…faced man took pity on Foma； or； perhaps； became tired of witnessing that scene； and； waving his
hands； he drawled out plaintively：
〃Gentlemen； drop that！ It isn't good！ For we are all sinners！ Decidedly all； believe me！〃
〃Well； speak on！〃 muttered Foma。 〃Say everything！ I won't touch you。〃
The mirrors on the walls reflected this drunken confusion； and the people； as reflected in the mirrors； seemed more disgusting and hideous than they were in reality。
〃I do not want to speak！ 〃exclaimed the coupletist； 〃I do not want to cast the pearls of truth and of my wrath before you。〃
He rushed forward； and raising his head majestically； turned toward the door with tragic footsteps。
〃You lie！〃 said Foma； attempting to follow him。 〃Hold on！ you have made me agitated； now calm me。〃
They seized him； surrounded him and shouted something to him while he was rushing forward； overturning everybody。 When he met tactile obstacles on his way the struggle with them gave him ease； uniting all his riotous feelings into one yearning to overthrow that which hindered him。 And now； after he had jostled them all aside and rushed out into the street； he was already less agitated。 Standing on the sidewalk he looked about the street and thought with shame：
〃How could I permit that swab to mock me and abuse my father as a thief？〃
It was dark and quiet about him； the moon was shining brightly； and a light refreshing breeze was blowing。 Foma held his face to the cool breeze as he walked against the wind with rapid strides； timidly looking about on all sides； and wishing that none of the company from the tavern would follow him。 He understood that he had lowered himself in the eyes of all these people。 As he walked he thought of what he had come to： a sharper had publicly abused him in disgraceful terms； while he； the son of a well…known merchant； had not been able to repay him for his mocking。
〃It serves me right！〃 thought Foma； sadly and bitterly。 〃That serves me right！ Don't lose your head； understand。 And then again； I wanted it myself。 I interfered with everybody； so now； take your share！〃 These thoughts made him feel painfully sorry for himself。 Seized and sobered by them he kept on strolling along the streets； and searching for something strong and firm in himself。 But everything within him was confused； it merely oppressed his heart； without assuming any definite forms。 As in a painful dream he reached the river； seated himself on the beams by the shore； and began to look at the calm dark water； which was covered with tiny ripples。 Calmly and almost noiselessly flowed on the broad； mighty river； carrying enormous weights upon its bosom。 The river was all covered with black vessels； the signal lights and the stars were reflected in its water； the tiny ripples； murmuring softly； were gently breaking against the shore at the very feet of Foma。 Sadness was breathed down from the sky； the feeling of loneliness oppressed Foma。
〃0h Lord Jesus Christ！〃 thought he； sadly gazing at the sky。 〃What a failure I am。 There is nothing in me。 God has put nothing into me。 Of what use am I？ Oh Lord Jesus！〃
At the recollection of Christ Foma felt somewhat betterhis loneliness seemed alleviated； and heaving a deep sigh； he began to address God in silence：
〃0h Lord Jesus Christ！ Other people do not understand anything either； but they think that all is known to them； and therefore it is easier for them to live。 While II have no justification。 Here it is night； and I am alone； I have no place to go； I am unable to say anything to anybody。 I love no oneonly my godfather； and he is soulless。 If Thou hadst but punished him somehow！ He thinks there is none cleverer and better on earth than himself。 While Thou sufferest it。 And the same with me。 If some misfortune were but sent to me。 If some illness were to overtake me。 But here I am as strong as iron。 I am drinking； leading a gay life。 I live in filth； but the body does not even rust； and only my soul aches。 Oh Lord！ To what purpose is such a life？〃
Vague thoughts of protest flashed one after another through the mind of the lonely； straying man； while the silence about him was growing deeper； and night ever darker and darker。 Not far from the shore lay a boat at anchor； it rocked from side to side； and something was creaking in it as though moaning。
〃How am I to free myself from such a life as this？〃 reflected Foma； staring at the boat。 〃And what occupation is destined to be mine？ Everybody is working。〃
And suddenly he was struck by a thought which appeared great to him：
〃And hard work is cheaper than easy work！ Some man will give himself up entire to his work for a rouble； while another takes a thousand with one finger。〃
He was pleasantly roused by this thought。 It seemed to him that he discovered another falsehood in the life of man； another fraud which they conceal。 He recalled one of his stokers； the old man Ilya； who； for ten copecks； used to be on watch at the fireplace out of his turn； working for a comrade eight hours in succession； amid suffocating heat。 One day； when he had fallen sick on account of overwork； he was lying on the bow of the steamer； and when Foma asked him why he was thus ruining himself； Ilya replied roughly and sternly：
〃Because every copeck is more necessary to me than a hundred roubles to you。 That's why！〃
And； saying this； the old man turned his body； which was burning with pain； with its back to Foma。
Reflecting on the stoker his thoughts suddenly and without any effort； embraced all those petty people that were doing hard work。 He wondered； Why do they live？ What pleasure is it for them to live on earth？ They constantly do but their dirty； hard work； they eat poorly； are poorly clad； they drink。 One man is sixty years old； and yet he keeps on toiling side by side with the young fellows。 And they all appeared to Foma as a huge pile of worms； which battled about on earth just to get something to eat。 In his memory sprang up his meetings with these people； one after anothertheir remarks about lifenow sarcastic and mournful； now hopelessly gloomy remarkstheir wailing songs。 And now he also recalled how one day in the office Yefim had said to the clerk who hired the sailors：
〃Some Lopukhin peasants have come here to hire themselves out； so don't give them more than ten roubles a month。 Their place was burned down to ashes last summer； and they are now in dire need they'll work for ten roubles。〃
Sitting on the beams； Foma rocked his whole body to and fro； and out of the darkness； from the river； various human figures a
