"Can't you see ?" "What ?" asked Foma, sarcastically.
"What's the trouble with you ?" said Lubov, looking at him uneasily.
"Eh, you!" drawled out Foma, with contemptuous pity.

"Can your father, can the merchant class beget anything good?
Can you expect a radish to bring forth raspberries?
And you lied to me.

Taras is this, Taras is that.

What is in him?
A merchant, like the other merchants, and his paunch is also that of the real merchant.

He-he!" He was satisfied, seeing that the girl, confused by his words, was biting her lips, now flushing, now turning pale.
"You--you, Foma," she began, in a choking voice, and suddenly stamping her foot, she cried: "Don't you dare to speak to me!" On reaching the threshold of the room, she turned her angry face to him, and ejaculated in a low voice, emphatically: "Oh, you malicious man!" Foma burst into laughter.