His beard shook, his bald crown flashed, and his
small eye pierced Foma like borers.
"What a vulture!" muttered Foma, raising his cap and nodding his
head to his godfather.
His bow evidently afforded great pleasure to Mayakin. The old man
somehow coiled himself up, stamped his feet, and his face seemed
beaming with a malicious smile.
"The little boy will get money for nuts, it seems!" Sasha teased
Foma. Her words together with his godfather's smile seemed to
have kindled a fire in Foma's breast.
"We shall see what is going to happen," hissed Foma, and suddenly
he became as petrified in malicious calm. The steamer made fast,
and the people rushed in a wave to the landing-place. Pressed by
the crowd, Mayakin disappeared for awhile from the sight of his
godson and appeared again with a maliciously triumphant smile.
Foma stared at him fixedly, with knitted brow, and came toward
him slowly pacing the gang planks. They jostled him in the back,
they leaned on him, they squeezed him, and this provoked Foma
still more. Now he came face to face with the old man, and the
latter greeted him with a polite bow, and asked:
"Whither are you travelling, Foma Ignatyich?"
"About my affairs," replied Foma, firmly, without greeting his
godfather.
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