"It's very hard. I lack steadfastness. Of a sudden I could
perhaps do something. I understand very well that life is
difficult and narrow for every one of us. I know that my
godfather sees that, too! But he profits by this narrowness. He
feels well in it; he is sharp as a needle, and he'll make his way
wherever he pleases. But I am a big, heavy man, that's why I am
suffocating! That's why I live in fetters. I could free myself
from everything with a single effort: just to move my body with
all my strength, and then all the fetters will burst!"
"And what then?" asked Yozhov.
"Then?" Foma became pensive, and, after a moment's thought, waved
his hand. "I don't know what will be then. I shall see!"
"We shall see!" assented Yozhov.
He was given to drink, this little man who was scalded by life.
His day began thus: in the morning at his tea he looked over the
local newspapers and drew from the news notices material for his
feuilleton, which he wrote right then and there on the corner of
the table. Then he ran to the editorial office, where he made up
"Provincial Pictures" out of clippings from country newspapers.
Pages:
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