loneliness and the darkness, awaking in him a painful feeling of
expectation, stirred his curiosity, compelled him to go out to
the dark corner and see what was hidden there beyond the thick
veils of darkness. He went and found nothing, but he lost no hope
of finding it out.

He feared his father and respected him. Ignat's enormous size,
his harsh, trumpet-like voice, his bearded face, his gray-haired
head, his powerful, long arms and his flashing eyes--all these
gave to Ignat the resemblance of the fairy-tale robbers.

Foma shuddered whenever he heard his voice or his heavy, firm
steps; but when the father, smiling kind-heartedly, and talking
playfully in a loud voice, took him upon his knees or threw him
high up in the air with his big hands the boy's fear vanished.

Once, when the boy was about eight years old, he asked his
father, who had returned from a long journey:

"Papa, where were you?"

"On the Volga."

"Were you robbing there?" asked Foma, softly.

"Wha-at?" Ignat drawled out, and his eyebrows contracted.

"Aren't you a robber, papa? I know it," said Foma, winking his
eyes slyly, satisfied that he had already read the secret of his
father's life.