You never say anything to me! And you
are also lonely; life is difficult for you too, I can see it. You
find it very hard to live, but you alone are to blame for it! You
alone!
"Now Balaam's she-ass has also started to talk!" said the old
man, laughing. "Well! what will be next?"
"You are very proud of your wisdom, papa."
"And what else?"
"That isn't good; and it pains me greatly. Why do you repulse me?
You know that, save you, I have no one."
Tears leaped to her eyes; her father noticed them, and his face
quivered.
"If you were not a girl!" he exclaimed. "If you had as much
brains as Marfa Poosadnitza, for instance. Eh, Lubov? Then I'd
laugh at everybody, and at Foma. Come now, don't cry!"
She wiped her eyes and asked:
"What about Foma?"
"He's rebellious. Ha! ha! he says: 'Take away my property, give
me freedom!' He wants to save his soul in the kabak. That's what
entered Foma's head."
"Well, what is this?" asked Lubov, irresolutely. She wanted to
say that Foma's desire was good, that it was a noble desire if it
were earnest, but she feared to irritate her father with her
words, and she only gazed at him questioningly.
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