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And he took different silverware and robbed a church. And cut up a man with his sword
and threw him down the steeple because he tried to sound an alarm."
"Did your aunt tell you that?" asked Ignat admiring his son's
enthusiasm.
"Yes! Why?"
"Nothing!" said Ignat, laughing. "So you thought your father was
a robber."
"And perhaps you were a robber long ago?"
Foma again returned to his theme, and it was evident on his face
that he would be very glad to hear an affirmative answer.
"I was never a robber. Let that end it."
"Never?"
"I tell you I was not! What a queer little boy you are! Is it
good to be a robber? They are all sinners, the robbers. They
don't believe in God--they rob churches. They are all cursed in
the churches. Yes. Look here, my son, you'll have to start to
study soon. It is time; you'll soon be nine years old. Start with
the help of God. You'll study during the winter and in spring
I'll take you along with me on the Volga."
"Will I go to school?" asked Foma, timidly.
"First you'll study at home with auntie.


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