Physically healthy, but not sensual, Foma bought them, the dear ones and the cheap ones, the beautiful and the ugly, gave them large sums of money, changed them almost every week, and in general, he treated the women better than the men.

He laughed at them, said to them disgraceful and offensive words, but he could never, even when half-drunk, rid himself of a certain bashfulness in their presence.

They all, even the most brazen-faced, the strongest and the most shameless, seemed to him weak and defenseless, like small children.
Always ready to thrash any man, he never laid a hand on women, although when irritated by something he sometimes abused them indecently.

He felt that he was immeasurably stronger than any woman, and every woman seemed to him immeasurably more miserable than he was.

Those of the women who led their dissolute lives audaciously, boasting of their depravity, called forth in Foma a feeling of bashfulness, which made him timid and awkward.