When he is sober he is
silent most of the time, and walks around thoughtfully, but when
he wets his springs with wine--then he breaks loose. Then he is
not master of himself and of his business--but their wild enemy--
you must excuse me! And I want to leave, Yakov Tarasovich! I am
not used to being without a master, I cannot live without a
master!"
"Keep quiet!" said Mayakin, sternly. "Where's Foma?"
"There; at the same place. Immediately after the accident, he
came to himself and at once sent for workmen. They'll lift the
barge. They may have started by this time."
"Is he there alone?" asked Mayakin, lowering his head.
"Not quite," replied Yefim, softly, glancing stealthily at Lubov.
"Really?"
"There's a lady with him. A dark one."
"So."
"It looks as though the woman is out of her wits," said Yefim,
with a sigh. "She's forever singing. She sings very well. It's
very captivating."
"I am not asking you about her!" cried Mayakin, angrily. The
wrinkles of his face were painfully quivering, and it seemed to
Lubov that her father was about to weep.
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