Do you
understand? Take a lesson from him! Look at him! You cannot find
another like him in a hundred; you'd have to look for one in a
thousand. What? Just bear this in mind: You cannot forge a
Mayakin from man into either devil or angel."
Stupefied by this tempestuous shock, Foma became confused and did
not know what to say in reply to the old man's noisy song of
praise. He saw that Taras, calmly smoking his cigar, was looking
at his father, and that the corners of his lips were quivering
with a smile. His face looked condescendingly contented, and all
his figure somewhat aristocratic and haughty. He seemed to be
amused by the old man's joy.
And Yakov Tarasovich tapped Foma on the chest with his finger and
said:
"I do not know him, my own son. He has not opened his soul to me.
It may be that such a difference had grown up between us that not
only an eagle, but the devil himself cannot cross it. Perhaps his
blood has overboiled; that there is not even the scent of the
father's blood in it. But he is a Mayakin! And I can feel it at
once! I feel it and say: 'Today thou forgivest Thy servant, 0h
Lord!'"
The old man was trembling with the fever of his exultation, and
fairly hopped as he stood before Foma.
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