And everyone looked now at him, now at Mayakin, who had seated himself opposite him.

The old man did not give Foma the vodka at once.

First he surveyed him fixedly, then he slowly poured out a wine glassful, and finally, without saying a word, raised it to Foma's lips.
Foma drank the vodka, and asked: "Some more!" "That's enough!" replied Mayakin.
And immediately after this there fell a minute of perfect, painful silence.

People were coming up to the table noiselessly, on tiptoe, and when they were near they stretched their necks to see Foma.
"Well, Fomka, do you understand now what you have done ?" asked Mayakin.
He spoke softly, but all heard his question.
Foma nodded his head and maintained silence.
"There's no forgiveness for you!" Mayakin went on firmly, and raising his voice.

"Though we are all Christians, yet you will receive no forgiveness at our hands.