With a convulsive movement of the hand, Foma began to shake the man's head and his big, solid body; lifting up his left hand, he spoke in a dull voice, keeping time to the punishment: "Don't abuse a person--in his absence.

Abuse him--right in his face--straight in his eyes." He experienced a burning delight, seeing how comically the stout arms were swinging in the air, and how the legs of the man, whom he was shaking, were bending under him, scraping against the floor.

His gold watch fell out of the pocket and dangled on the chain, over his round paunch.

Intoxicated with his own strength and with the degradation of the sedate man, filled with the burning feeling of malignancy, trembling with the happiness of revenge, Foma dragged him along the floor and in a dull voice, growled wickedly, in wild joy.

In these moments he experienced a great feeling--the feeling of emancipation from the wearisome burden which had long oppressed his heart with grief and morbidness.