Absorbed in his reflections on Taras, slightly offended by the lack of attention shown him, and by the fact that since the handshake at the introduction Taras had not given him a single glance, Foma ceased for awhile to follow the conversation of the Mayakins, and suddenly he felt that someone seized him by the shoulder.

He trembled and sprang to his feet, almost felling his godfather, who stood before him with excited face: "There--look! That is a man! That's what a Mayakin is! They have seven times boiled him in lye; they have squeezed oil out of him, and yet he lives! Understand?
Without any aid--alone--he made his way and found his place and--he is proud! That means Mayakin! A Mayakin means a man who holds his fate in his own hands.

Do you understand?
Take a lesson from him! Look at him! You cannot find another like him in a hundred; you'd have to look for one in a thousand.

What?
Just bear this in mind: You cannot forge a Mayakin from man into either devil or angel." Stupefied by this tempestuous shock, Foma became confused and did not know what to say in reply to the old man's noisy song of praise.

He saw that Taras, calmly smoking his cigar, was looking at his father, and that the corners of his lips were quivering with a smile.