“Eh, you’re stupid. He wants to tell our fortunes.”
“How is that?”
“Come now, guess!”
Foma looked at his father and—guessed it. His face became gloomy, he slightly raised himself from the armchair and said resolutely:
“No, I don’t want to. I shall not marry her!”
“Oh? Why so? She is a strong girl; she is not foolish; she’s his only child.”
“And Taras? The lost one? But I—I don’t want to at all!”
“The lost one is gone, consequently it is not worthwhile speaking of him. There is a will, dear, which says: ‘All my movable and real estates shall go to my daughter, Lubov.’ And as to the fact that she is your godfather’s daughter, we’ll set this right.”
“It is all the same,” said Foma, firmly. “I shall not marry her!”
“Well, it is rather early to speak of it now! But why do you dislike her so much?”