The boy's soul was as yet but a calm lake--a lake hidden from the stormy winds of life, and all that touched the surface of the lake either sank to the bottom, stirring the placid water for a moment, or gliding over the smooth surface, swam apart in big circles and disappeared.
Having stayed at the district school for five years, Foma passed four classes tolerably well and came out a brave, dark-haired fellow, with a swarthy face, heavy eyebrows and dark down on the upper lip.

His big dark eyes had a naive and pensive look, and his lips were like a child's, half-open; but when meeting with opposition to his desires or when irritated by something else, the pupils of his eyes would grow wide, his lips press tight, and his whole face assume a stubborn and resolute expression.

His godfather, smiling sceptically, would often say to him: "To women, Foma, you'll be sweeter than honey, but as yet not much common sense can be seen in you." Ignat would heave a sigh at these words.
"You had better start out your son as soon as possible." "There's time yet, wait." "Why wait?
He'll go about the Volga for two or three years and then we'll have him married.

There's my Lubov." Lubov Mayakina was now studying in the fifth class of some boarding school.

Foma often met her on the street at which meeting she always bowed condescendingly, her fair head in a fashionable cap.