And Foma went toward him, and spoke convincingly, with intense
sorrow:
"Speak! speak to me! I shall carry away your words to the proper
place. I understand them. And, ah! how I will scorch the people!
Just wait! My opportunity will come."
"Go away!" screamed Yozhov, hysterically, squeezing his back to
the wall, under Foma's pressure. Perplexed, crushed, and
infuriated he stood and waved off Foma's arms outstretched toward
him. And at this time the door of the room opened, and on the
threshold appeared a woman all in black. Her face was angry-
looking and excited, her cheek was tied up with a kerchief. She
tossed her head back, stretched out her hand toward Yozhov and
said, in ahissing and shrill voice:
"Nikolay Matveyich! Excuse me, but this is impossible! Such
beast-like howling and roaring. Guests everyday. The police are
coming. No, I can't bear it any longer! I am nervous. Please
vacate the lodgings to-morrow. You are not living in a desert,
there are people about you here. And an educated man at that! A
writer! All people require rest.
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