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Foma was silent, his head bent on his breast.
"Don't you believe that I am an old woman?"
"I believe you; that is, I believe everything you may say; only
this is not true!" said Foma, feelingly, in a low voice.
"What is not true? What do you believe me?"
"No! not this, but that. I--excuse me! I cannot speak!" said
Foma, sadly, all aflush with confusion. "I am not cultured."
"You need not trouble yourself on this account," said Medinskaya,
patronisingly. "You are so young, and education is accessible to
everybody. But there are people to whom education is not only
unnecessary, but who can also be harmed by it. Those that are pure
of heart, sanguine, sincere, like children, and you are of those
people. You are, are you not?"
What could Foma say in answer to this question? He said sincerely:
"I thank you humbly!"
And noticing that his words called forth a gay gleam in Medinskaya's
eyes, Foma appeared ridiculous and stupid in his own eyes; he
immediately became angry at himself and said in a muffled voice:
"Yes, I am such.


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