"I tell you I was not! What a queer little boy you are! Is it
good to be a robber? They are all sinners, the robbers. They
don't believe in God--they rob churches. They are all cursed in
the churches. Yes. Look here, my son, you'll have to start to
study soon. It is time; you'll soon be nine years old. Start with
the help of God. You'll study during the winter and in spring
I'll take you along with me on the Volga."

"Will I go to school?" asked Foma, timidly.

"First you'll study at home with auntie." Soon after the boy
would sit down near the table in the morning and, fingering the
Slavonic alphabet, repeat after his aunt:

"Az, Buky, Vedy."

When they reached "bra, vra, gra, dra" for a long time the boy
could not read these syllables without laughter. Foma succeeded
easily in gaining knowledge, almost without any effort, and soon
he was reading the first psalm of the first section of the
psalter: "Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of
the ungodly."

"That's it, my darling! So, Fomushka, that's right!" chimed in
his aunt with emotion, enraptured by his progress.

"You're a fine fellow, Foma!" Ignat would approvingly say when
informed of his son's progress. "We'll go to Astrakhan for fish
in the spring, and toward autumn I'll send you to school!"