And Foma found what he needed.
One day, irritated by the lack of attention for him, he cried to
his drinking-companions:
"You boys, keep quiet, every one of you! Who gives you to drink
and to eat? Have you forgotten it? I'll bring you in order! I'll
show you how to respect me! Convicts! When I speak you must all
keep quiet!"
And, indeed, all became silent; either for fear lest they might
lose his good will, or, perhaps, afraid that he, that healthy and
strong beast, might beat them. They sat in silence about a
minute, concealing their anger at him, bending over the plates
and attempting to hide from him their fright and embarrassment.
Foma measured them with a self-satisfied look, and gratified by
their slavish submissiveness, said boastfully:
"Ah! You've grown dumb now, that's the way! I am strict! I--"
"You sluggard!" came some one's calm, loud exclamation.
"Wha-at?" roared Foma, jumping up from his chair. "Who said
that?"
Then a certain, strange, shabby-looking man arose at the end of
the table; he was tall, in a long frock-coat, with a heap of
grayish hair on his large head.
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