Then
fate pulls up the rod--and the man is struggling, flopping on the
ground, and then you see his heart is broken. That's how it is,
my dear man."
Foma closed his eyes, as if a ray of the sun had fallen full on
them, and shaking his head, he said aloud:
"True! That is true!"
The companions looked at him fixedly: the old man, with a fine,
wise smile; the large-eyed man, unfriendly, askance. This confused
Foma; he blushed and walked away, thinking of Fate and wondering
why it had first treated him kindly by giving him a woman, and then
took back the gift from him, so simply and abusively? And he now
understood that the vague, caustic feeling which he carried within
him was a grudge against Fate for thus sporting with him. He had been
too much spoiled by life, to regard more plainly the first drop of
poison from the cup which was just started, and he passed all the time
of the journey without sleep, pondering over the old man's words and
fondling his grudge. This grudge, however, did not awaken in him
despondency and sorrow, but rather a feeling of anger and revenge.
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