No, wait! I'll lift you up to the proper point!" The old man was choking with agitation and with flashing eyes looked at his daughter so furiously as though Foma were sitting in her place.

His agitation frightened Lubov, but she lacked the courage to interrupt her father, and she looked at his stern and gloomy face in silence.
"The road has been paved by our fathers, and you must walk on it.

I have worked for fifty years to what purpose?
That my children may resume it after I am gone.

My children! Where are my children ?" The old man drooped his head mournfully, his voice broke down, and he said sadly, as if he were speaking unto himself: "One is a convict, utterly ruined; the other, a drunkard.

I have little hope in him.