Zubov was soon joined by Reznikov. Then one after another the
others began to draw near. Bobrov, Kononov and several others
preceded by Yakov Mayakin went to the cabin, anxiously discussing
something in low tones.
The steamer was sailing toward the town at full speed. The
bottles on the tables trembled and rattled from the vibration of
the steamer, and Foma heard this jarring, plaintive sound above
everything else. Near him stood a throng of people, saying
malicious, offensive things.
But Foma saw them as though through a fog, and their words did
not touch him to the quick. A vast, bitter feeling was now
springing up within him, from the depth of his soul; he followed
its growth and though he did not yet understand it, he already
experienced something melancholy and degrading.
"Just think, you charlatan! What have you done to yourself?" said
Reznikov. "What sort of a life is now possible to you? Do you
know that now no one of us would care even as much as to spit on
you?"
"What have I done?" Foma tried to understand. The merchants stood
around him in a dense, dark mass.
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