She looked at him with a
guilty expression in her eyes, smiled confusedly, and in her
heart grew a greater and greater respect for the live old man who
was so steadfast in his desires.
.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And Foma went on straying and raving, passing his days and nights
in taverns and dens, and mastering more and more firmly his
contemptuously-hateful bearing toward the people that surrounded
him. At times they awakened in him a sad yearning to find among
them some sort of resistance to his wicked feeling, to meet a
worthy and courageous man who would cause him to blush with shame
by his burning reproach. This yearning became clearer--each time
it sprang up in him it was a longing for assistance on the part
of a man who felt that he had lost his way and was perishing.
"Brethren!" he cried one day, sitting by the table in a tavern,
half-intoxicated, and surrounded by certain obscure and greedy
people, who ate and drank as though they had not had a piece of
bread in their mouths for many a long day before.
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