Beside the piano stood a sailor made of bronze, whose hand was lifted, ready to throw the life-saving ring; on this ring were ropes of wire, and these always pulled Foma by the hair.
All this provoked laughter among Sophya Pavlovna and her admirers, and Foma suffered greatly, changing from heat to cold.
But he felt no less uncomfortable even when alone with her.

Greeting him with a kindly smile, she would take a seat beside him in one of the cosy corners of her drawing-room and would usually start her conversation by complaining to him of everybody: "You wouldn't believe how glad I am to see you!" Bending like a cat, she would gaze into his eyes with her dark glance, in which something avidious would now flash up.
"I love to speak to you," she said, musically drawling her words.

"I've grown tired of all the rest of them.

They're all so boring, ordinary and worn-out, while you are fresh, sincere.

You don't like those people either, do you ?" "I can't bear them!" replied Foma, firmly.
"And me ?" she asked softly.
Foma turned his eyes away from her and said, with a sigh: "How many times have you asked me that ?" "Is it hard for you to tell me ?" "It isn't hard, but what for ?" "I must know it." "You are making sport of me," said Foma, sternly.