All
this had for Foma a particularly pleasant flavour; he grew
bolder, seized by the general good feeling, and he longed to say
something good to these people, to please them all in some way or
other. Yozhov, sitting by his side, moved about on the ground,
jostled him with his shoulder and, shaking his head, muttered
something indistinctly.
Brethren!" shouted the stout fellow. "Let's strike up the student
song. Well, one, two!"
"Swift as the waves,"
Someone roared in his bass voice:
"Are the days of our life."
"Friends!" said Yozhov, rising to his feet, a glass in his hand.
He staggered, and leaned his other hand against Foma's head. The
started song was broken off, and all turned their heads toward
him.
"Working men! Permit me to say a few words, words from the heart.
I am happy in your company! I feel well in your midst. That is
because you are men of toil, men whose right to happiness is not
subject to doubt, although it is not recognised. In your
ennobling midst, 0h honest people, the lonely man, who is
poisoned by life, breathes so easily, so freely.
Pages:
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486