the notes out of his pocket-book.

"Take them!" he muttered, shaking all over. "You've eaten and drunk your
fill, so here's money for you too! I need nothing! Order yourself new
boots and uniforms!"

The student turned pale and got up.

"Listen, papa," he began, gasping for breath. "I... I beg you to end
this, for..."

"Hold your tongue!" the father shouted at him, and so loudly that the
spectacles fell off his nose; "hold your tongue!"

"I used... I used to be able to put up with such scenes, but... but now
I have got out of the way of it. Do you understand? I have got out of
the way of it!"

"Hold your tongue!" cried the father, and he stamped with his feet. "You
must listen to what I say! I shall say what I like, and you hold your
tongue. At your age I was earning my living, while you... Do you know
what you cost me, you scoundrel? I'll turn you out! Wastrel!"

"Yevgraf Ivanovitch," muttered Fedosya Semyonovna, moving her fingers
nervously; "you know he... you know Petya...!"

"Hold your tongue!" Shiryaev shouted out to her, and tears actually came
into his eyes from anger. "It is you who have spoilt them--you! It's
all your fault! He has no respect for us, does not say his prayers, and
earns nothing! I am only one against the ten of you! I'll turn you out