"
"That's because his father would not listen to him," Taras
reminded him.
"It's all right now. Never mind the past. Only God knows which of
us is to blame. He, the upright one, He'll tell it to you--wait!
I shall keep silence. This is not the time for us to discuss that
matter. You better tell me-- what have you been doing all these
years? How did you come to that soda factory? How have you made
your way?"
"That's a long story," said Taras with a sigh; and emitting from
his mouth a great puff of smoke, he began slowly: "When I
acquired the possibility to live at liberty, I entered the office
of the superintendent of the gold mines of the Remezovs."
"I know; they're very rich. Three brothers. I know them all. One
is a cripple, the other a fool, and the third a miser. Go on!"
"I served under him for two years. And then I married his
daughter," narrated Mayakin in a hoarse voice.
"The superintendent's? That wasn't foolish at all." Taras became
thoughtful and was silent awhile. The old man looked at his sad
face and understood his son.
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