"So she has led you by the nose all winter long! What a nose! What a beast she is!" The old man was agitated; in his voice rang vexation, anger, even tears Foma had never before seen him in such a state, and looking at him, he was involuntarily silent.
"She will ruin you! Oh Lord! The Babylonian prostitute!" Mayakin's eyes were blinking, his lips were trembling, and in rude, cynical words he began to speak of Medinskaya, irritated, with a wrathful jar in his voice.
Foma felt that the old man spoke the truth.

He now began to breathe with difficulty and he felt that his mouth had a dry, bitter taste.
"Very well, father, enough," he begged softly and sadly, turning aside from Mayakin.
"Eh, you ought to get married as soon as possible!" exclaimed the old man with alarm.
"For Christ's sake, do not speak," uttered Foma in a dull voice.
Mayakin glanced at his godson and became silent.

Foma's face looked drawn; he grew pale, and there was a great deal of painful, bitter stupor in his half-open lips and in his sad look.

On the right and on the left of the road a field stretched itself, covered here and there with patches of winter-raiment.

Rooks were hopping busily about over the black spots, where the snow had melted.