"What, they will say. Have you grown tired, gentlemen? What, they
will say, your spleens cannot stand a real fire, can they? So--
"and, raising his voice, the old man concluded his speech in an
authoritative tone:
"Well, then, now, you rabble, hold your tongues, and don't
squeak! Or we'll shake you off the earth, like worms from a tree!
Silence, dear fellows! Ha, ha, ha! That's how it's going to
happen, Lubavka! He, he, he!"
The old man was in a merry mood. His wrinkles quivered, and
carried away by his words, he trembled, closed his eyes now and
then, and smacked his lips as though tasting his own wisdom.
"And then those who will take the upper hand in the confusion
will arrange life wisely, after their own fashion. Then things
won't go at random, but as if by rote. It's a pity that we shall
not live to see it!"
The old man's words fell one after another upon Lubov like meshes
of a big strong net--they fell and enmeshed her, and the girl,
unable to free herself from them, maintained silence, dizzied by
her father's words.
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