"
"I play so that either the head is smashed to pieces, or the wall
broken in half," said Foma, hotly, and struck the table with his
fist.
"Haven't you recovered from your drunkenness yet?" asked Mayakin
with a smile.
Foma seated himself more firmly in his chair, and, his face
distorted with wrathful agitation, he said:
"Godfather, you are a sensible man. I respect you for your common
sense."
"Thank you, my son!" and Mayakin bowed, rising slightly, and
leaning his hands against the table.
"Don't mention it. I want to tell you that I am no longer twenty.
I am not a child any longer."
"Of course not!" assented Mayakin. "You've lived a good while,
that goes without saying! If a mosquito had lived as long it
might have grown as big as a hen."
"Stop your joking!" Foma warned him, and he did it so calmly that
Mayakin started back, and the wrinkles on his face quivered with
alarm.
"What did you come here for?" asked Foma.
"Ah! you've done some nasty work here. So I want to find out
whether there's much damage in it! You see, I am a relative of
yours.
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