Let someone send for a carriage.

We'll take him straight to the asylum." "And where am I to rest ?" Foma muttered again.

"Whither shall I fling myself ?" And he remained as though petrified in a broken, uncomfortable attitude, all distorted, with an expression of pain on his face.
Mayakin rose from his seat and went to the cabin, saying softly: "Keep an eye on him, he might fling himself overboard." "I am sorry for the fellow," said Bobrov, looking at Yakov Tarasovich as he departed.
"No one is to blame for his madness," replied Reznikov, morosely.
"And Yakov," whispered Zubov, nodding his head in the direction of Mayakin.
"What about Yakov?
He loses nothing through it." "Yes, now he'll, ha, ha!" "He'll be his guardian, ha, ha, ha!" Their quiet laughter and whisper mingled with the groaning of the engine did not seem to reach Foma's ear.

Motionlessly he stared into the distance before him with a dim look, and only his lips were slightly quivering.
"His son has returned," whispered Bobrov.
"I know his son," said Yashchurov.

"I met him in Perm." "What sort of a man is he ?" "A business-like, clever fellow." "Is that so ?" "He manages a big business in Oosolye." "Consequently Yakov does not need this one.Yes.So that's it." "Look, he's weeping!" "Oh ?" Foma was sitting leaning against the back of the chair, and drooping his head on the shoulder.