All those that left the steamer looked equally indistinct, and they all quickly disappeared from sight, as though they had melted in the gray dampness.
One could see neither the shore nor anything else solid; the landing bridge rocked from the commotion caused by the steamer; above it the yellow spot of the lantern was swaying; the noise of the footsteps and the bustle of the people were dull.
The steamer put off and slowly moved along into the clouds.

The pilgrim, the harbour, the turmoil of people's voices--all suddenly disappeared like a dream, and again there remained only the dense gloom and the steamer heavily turning about in it.

Foma stared before him into the dead sea of fog and thought of the blue, cloudless and caressingly warm sky--where was it?
On the next day, about noon, he sat In Yozhov's small room and listened to the local news from the mouth of his friend.

Yozhov had climbed on the table, which was piled with newspapers, and, swinging his feet, narrated: "The election campaign has begun.

The merchants are putting your godfather up as mayor--that old devil! Like the devil, he is immortal, although he must be upwards of a hundred and fifty years old already.
He marries his daughter to Smolin.