During the past two days he had been drinking heavily with Yozhov, and now he had a terrible headache.

He felt ill at ease in the sedate and yet jolly company; the humming of the voices, the thundering of the music and the clamour of the steamer, all these irritated him.
He felt a pressing need to doze off, and he could find no rest from the thought as to why his godfather was so kind to him today, and why he brought him hither into the company of the foremost merchants of the town.

Why had he urged so persuasively, and even entreated him to attend Kononov's mass and banquet?
"Don't be foolish, come!" Foma recalled his godfather's admonitions.
"Why do you fight shy of people?
Man gets his character from nature, and in riches you are lower than very few.

You must keep yourself on an equal footing with the others.

Come!" "But when are you going to speak seriously with me, papa ?" Foma had asked, watching the play of his godfather's face and green eyes.
"You mean about setting you free from the business?
Ha, ha! We'll talk it over, we'll talk it over, my friend! What a queer fellow you are.
Well?
Will you enter a monastery when you have thrown away your wealth?
After the example of the saints?
Eh ?" "I'll see then!" Foma had answered.
"So.