FOMINISHNA.  No, dear!  I gave the order to the cook myself!

BOLSHOV.  Get out! [He sits down.

FOMINISHNA goes to the door; PODKHALYUZIN and TISHKA come in.

FOMINISHNA. [Returning] Ah, I’m a fool, a fool!  Don’t punish me for my bad memory.  The cold roast sucking pig had entirely jumped out of my mind.

SCENE X

PODKHALYUZIN, BOLSHOV, and TISHKA

BOLSHOV.  Go to the pigs yourself! [FOMINISHNA goes out.  To TISHKA] What are you gaping at?  Haven’t you anything to do?

PODKHALYUZIN. [To TISHKA] You’ve been spoken to, haven’t you?

TISHKA goes out.

BOLSHOV.  Has the shyster been here?

PODKHALYUZIN.  He has, sir.

BOLSHOV.  Did you talk with him?

PODKHALYUZIN.  Why, Samson Silych?  Does he have any feeling?  Isn’t his soul naturally nothing but ink, sir?  He just thrums on one string—­to declare yourself bankrupt.

BOLSHOV.  If I must declare myself bankrupt, I’ll do it, and there’s an end to it.

PODKHALYUZIN.  Ah, Samson Silych, what’s that you’re saying!

BOLSHOV.  What! pay out money?  Where did you get that notion?  I will rather burn everything in the fire, before I’ll give them a kopek.  Transfer the merchandise, sell the notes, let ’em pilfer, let anybody steal who wants to; but I’m not going to pay a kopek.

PODKHALYUZIN.  Pardon me, Samson Silych, we had the business all going fine; and now everything has to be thrown into confusion.

BOLSHOV.  What affair was it of yours?  It ain’t yours.  You just work hard—­I’ll not forget you.

PODKHALYUZIN.  I’m not in need of anything after the kindness you have shown me, and you’re quite wrong in having any such idea about me.  I’m ready to give away my whole soul for you, and by no means to do anything tricky.  You’re getting on in years; Agrafena Kondratyevna is a very gentle lady; Olimpiada Samsonovna is an accomplished young lady, and of suitable years; and you’ve got to spend some thought on her.  But now such are the circumstances; there’s no knowing what may come of all this.

BOLSHOV.  Well, what could come of it?  I’m the only one responsible.

PODKHALYUZIN.  Why talk about you!  You, Samson Silych, have already had a long life; thank God, you’re in a ripe old age; but Olimpiada Samsonovna, of course, is a young lady whose like can’t be found on earth.  I’m speaking to you conscientiously, Samson Silych; that is, absolutely according to my feelings.  If I’m exerting myself on your behalf now, and am putting in my whole strength, too, it may be said, grudging neither sweat nor blood—­then it’s mostly because I’m sorry for your family.

BOLSHOV.  Come, really now?