He
was angry at Foma, and considered himself offended for nothing,
but at the same time he began to feel over himself the real, firm
hand of a master. For years accustomed to being subordinate, he
rather liked this manifestation of power over him, and, entering
the cabin of the old pilot, he related to him the scene between
himself and his master, with a shade of satisfaction in his voice.
"See?" he concluded his story. "A pup coming from a good breed is
an excellent dog at the very first chase. From his exterior he is
so-so. A man of rather heavy mind as yet. Well, never mind, let
him have his fun. It seems now as though nothing wrong will come
out of this. With a character like his, no. How he bawled at me!
A regular trumpet, I tell you! And he appointed himself master at
once. As though he had sipped power and strictness out of a ladle."
Yefim spoke the truth: during these few days Foma underwent a
striking transformation. The passion now kindled in him made him
master of the soul and body of a woman; he eagerly absorbed the
fiery sweetness of this power, and this burned out all that was
awkward in him, all that gave him the appearance of a somewhat
stupid, gloomy fellow, and, destroying it, filled his heart with
youthful pride, with the consciousness of his human personality.
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