All sorts of articles and wares were carried and carted in every direction; people moved about hastily, care-worn, spurring on their horses excitedly, shouting at one another, filling the street with unintelligible bustle and deafening noise of hurried work.

They busied themselves on a narrow strip of ground, paved with stone, built up on one side with tall houses, and the other side cut off by a steep ravine at the river, and their seething bustle made upon Foma an impression as though they had all prepared themselves to flee from this toil amid filth and narrowness and tumult--prepared themselves to flee and were now hastening to complete the sooner the unfinished work which would not release them.

Huge steamers, standing by the shore and emitting columns of smoke from their funnels, were already awaiting them.

The troubled water of the river, closely obstructed with vessels, was softly and plaintively splashing against the shore, as though imploring for a minute of rest and repose.
"Your Honour!" a hoarse cry rang out near Foma's ears, "contribute some brandy in honour of the building!" Foma glanced at the petitioner indifferently; he was a huge, bearded fellow, barefooted, with a torn shirt and a bruised, swollen face.
"Get away!" muttered Foma, and turned away from him.
"Merchant! When you die you can't take your money with you.

Give me for one glass of brandy, or are you too lazy to put your hand into your pocket ?" Foma again looked at the petitioner; the latter stood before him, covered more with mud than with clothes, and, trembling with intoxication, waited obstinately, staring at Foma with blood-shot, swollen eyes.
"Is that the way to ask ?" inquired Foma.
"How else?
Would you want me to go down on my knees before you for a ten-copeck piece ?" asked the bare-footed man, boldly.
"There!" and Foma gave him a coin.
"Thanks! Fifteen copecks.