And Lup Reznikov, waving his hands, hopped about awkwardly and, short of breath, said: "Be my witnesses.

What's this! No-o! I will not forgive this! I'll go to court.

What's that ?" and suddenly he screamed in a shrill voice, out-stretching his hand toward Foma: "Bind him!" Foma was laughing.
"You cannot bind the truth, you can't do it! Even bound, truth will not grow dumb!" "Go-o-od!" drawled out Kononov in a dull, broken voice.
"See here, gentlemen of the merchant class!" rang out Mayakin's voice.
"I ask! you to admire him, that's the kind of a fellow he is!" One after another the merchants moved toward Foma, and on their faces he saw wrath, curiosity, a malicious feeling of satisfaction, fear.

Some one of those modest people among whom Foma was sitting, whispered to him: "Give it to them.

God bless you.