They stood in solemn silence; their faces had an expression of
devout concentration; they prayed with fervour, deeply sighing,
bowing low, devoutly lifting their eyes heavenward. And Foma
looked now at one, now at another, and recalled what he knew
about them.
There was Lup Reznikov; he had begun his career as a brothel-
keeper, and had become rich all of a sudden. They said he had
strangled one of his guests, a rich Siberian. Zubov's business in
his youth had been to purchase thread from the peasants. He had
failed twice. Kononov had been tried twenty years ago for arson,
and even now he was indicted for the seduction of a minor.
Together with him, for the second time already, on a similar
charge, Zakhar Kirillov Robustov had been dragged to court.
Robustov was a stout, short merchant with a round face and
cheerful blue eyes. Among these people there was hardly one about
whom Foma did not know something disgraceful.
And he knew that they were all surely envying the successful
Kononov, who was constantly increasing the number of his steamers
from year to year.
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