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〃How do you do； papa？〃
〃How are you； Taras Yakovlich； how are you？〃 said the old man； bowing； smiling distractedly； and still clinging to the door posts。
Foma stepped aside in confusion； seated himself in an armchair； and； petrified with curiosity； wide…eyed； began to watch the meeting of father and son。
The father； standing in the doorway； swayed his feeble body； leaning his hands against the door posts； and； with his head bent on one side and eyes half shut； stared at his son in silence。 The son stood about three steps away from him； his head already gray； was lifted high； he knitted his brow and gazed at his father with large dark eyes。 His small； black； pointed beard and his small moustache quivered on his meagre face； with its gristly nose； like that of his father。 And the hat； also； quivered in his hand。 From behind his shoulder Foma saw the pale； frightened and joyous face of Lubashe looked at her father with beseeching eyes and it seemed she was on the point of crying out。 For a few moments all were silent and motionless； crushed as they were by the immensity of their emotions。 The silence was broken by the low； but dull and quivering voice of Yakov Tarasovich：
〃You have grown old； Taras。〃
The son laughed in his father's face silently； and； with a swift glance； surveyed him from head to foot。
The father tearing his hands from the door posts； made a step toward his son and suddenly stopped short with a frown。 Then Taras Mayakin； with one huge step； came up to his father and gave him his hand。
〃Well； let us kiss each other；〃 suggested the father； softly。
The two old men convulsively clasped each other in their arms； exchanged warm kisses and then stepped apart。 The wrinkles of the older man quivered； the lean face of the younger was immobile； almost stern。 The kisses had changed nothing in the external side of this scene； only Lubov burst into a sob of joy； and Foma awkwardly moved about in his seat； feeling as though his breath were failing him。
〃Eh； children； you are wounds to the heartyou are not its joy；〃 complained Yakov Tarasovich in a ringing voice； and he evidently invested a great deal in these words； for immediately after he had pronounced them he became radiant； more courageous； and he said briskly； addressing himself to his daughter：
〃Well； have you melted with joy？ You had better go and prepare something for ustea and so forth。 We'll entertain the prodigal son。 You must have forgotten； my little old man； what sort of a man your father is？〃
Taras Mayakin scrutinized his parent with a meditative look of his large eyes and he smiled； speechless； clad in black； wherefore the gray hair on his head and in his beard told more strikingly。
〃Well； be seated。 Tell mehow have you lived； what have you done？ What are you looking at？ Ah！ That's my godson。 Ignat Gordyeeff's son； Foma。 Do you remember Ignat？〃
〃I remember everything；〃 said Taras。
〃Oh！ That's good； if you are not bragging。 Well； are you married？〃
〃I am a widower。〃
〃Have you any children？〃
〃They died。 I had two。〃
〃That's a pity。 I would have had grandchildren。〃
〃May I smoke？〃 asked Taras。
〃Go ahead。 Just look at him； you're smoking cigars。〃
〃Don't you like them？〃
〃I？ Come on； it's all the same to me。 I say that it looks rather aristocratic to smoke cigars。〃
〃And why should we consider ourselves lower than the aristocrats？〃 said Taras； laughing。
〃Do； I consider ourselves lower？〃 exclaimed the old man。 〃I merely said it because it looked ridiculous to me； such a sedate old fellow； with beard trimmed in foreign fashion； cigar in his mouth。 Who is he？ My sonhe…he…he！〃 the old man tapped Taras on the shoulder and sprang away from him； as though frightened lest he were rejoicing too soon； lest that might not be the proper way to treat that half gray man。 And he looked searchingly and suspiciously into his son's large eyes； which were surrounded by yellowish swellings。
Taras smiled in his father's face an affable and warm smile； and said to him thoughtfully：
〃That's the way I remember youcheerful and lively。 It looks as though you had not changed a bit during all these years。〃
The old man straightened himself proudly； and； striking his breast with his fist； said：
〃I shall never change； because life has no power over him who knows his own value。 Isn't that so？〃
〃Oh！ How proud you are！〃
〃I must have taken after my son；〃 said the old man with a cunning grimace。 〃Do you know； dear； my son was silent for seventeen years out of pride。〃
〃That's because his father would not listen to him；〃 Taras reminded him。
〃It's all right now。 Never mind the past。 Only God knows which of us is to blame。 He； the upright one； He'll tell it to youwait！ I shall keep silence。 This is not the time for us to discuss that matter。 You better tell me what have you been doing all these years？ How did you come to that soda factory？ How have you made your way？〃
〃That's a long story；〃 said Taras with a sigh； and emitting from his mouth a great puff of smoke； he began slowly： 〃When I acquired the possibility to live at liberty； I entered the office of the superintendent of the gold mines of the Remezovs。〃
〃I know； they're very rich。 Three brothers。 I know them all。 One is a cripple； the other a fool； and the third a miser。 Go on！〃
〃I served under him for two years。 And then I married his daughter；〃 narrated Mayakin in a hoarse voice。
〃The superintendent's？ That wasn't foolish at all。〃 Taras became thoughtful and was silent awhile。 The old man looked at his sad face and understood his son。
〃And so you lived with your wife happily；〃 he said。 〃Well； what can you do？ To the dead belongs paradise； and the living must live on。 You are not so very old as yet。 Have you been a widower long？〃
〃This is the third year。〃
〃So？ And how did you chance upon the soda factory？〃
〃That belongs to my father…in…law。〃
〃Aha！ What is your salary？〃
〃About five thousand。〃
〃Mm。 That's not a stale crust。 Yes； that's a galley slave for you！〃
Taras glanced at his father with a firm look and asked him drily：
〃By the way； what makes you think that I was a convict？〃
The old man glanced at his son with astonishment； which was quickly changed into joy：
〃Ah！ What then？ You were not？ The devil take them！ Thenhow was it？ Don't take offence！ How could I know？ They said you were in Siberia！ Well； and there are the galleys！〃
〃To make an end of this once for all；〃 said Taras； seriously and impressively； clapping his hand on his knee； 〃I'll tell you right now how it all happened。 I was banished to Siberia to settle there for six years； and； during all the time of my exile； I lived in the mining region of the Lena。 In Moscow I was imprisoned for about nine months。 That's all！〃
〃So…o！ But what does it mean？〃 muttered Yakov Tarasovich； with confusion and joy。
〃And here they circulated that absurd rumour。〃
〃That's rightit is absurd indeed！〃 said the old man； distressed。
〃And it did a pretty great deal of harm on a certain occasion。〃
〃Really？ Is that possible？〃
〃Yes。 I was about to go into business for myself； and my credit was ruined on account of〃
〃Pshaw！〃 said Yakov Tarasovich； as he spat angrily。 〃Oh； devil！ Come； come； is that possible？〃
Foma sat all this time in his corner； listening to the conversation between the Mayakins； and； blinking perplexedly； he fixedly examined the newcomer。 Recalling Lubov's bearing toward her brother； and influenced； to a certain degree； by her stories about Taras； he expected to see in him something unusual； something unlike the ordinary people。 He had thought that Taras would speak in some peculiar way； would dress in a manner peculiar to himself； and in general he would be unlike other people。 While before him sat a sedate； stout man； faultlessly dressed； with stern eyes； very much like his father in face； and the only difference between them was that the son had a cigar in his mouth and a black beard。 He spoke briefly in a business…like way of everyday thingswhere was； then； that peculiar something about him？ Now he began to tell his father of the profits in the manufacture of soda。 He had not been a galley slaveLubov had lied！ And Foma was very much pleased when he pictured to himself how he would speak to Lubov about her brother。
Now and then she appeared in the doorway during the conversation between her father and her brother。 Her face was radiant with happiness； and her eyes beamed with joy as she looked at the black figure of Taras； clad in such a peculiarly thick frock coat； with pockets on the sides and with big buttons。 She walked on tiptoe； and somehow always stretched her neck toward her brother。 Foma looked at her questioningly； but she did not notice him； constantly running back and forth past the door； with plates and bottles in her hands。
It so happened that she glanced into the room just when her brother was telling her father about the galleys。 She stopped as though petrified； holding a tray in her outstretched hands and listened to everything her brother said about the punishment inflicted upon him。 She listened； and slowly walked away； without catching Foma's astonished and sarcastic glance。 Absorbed in his reflections on Taras； slight