PODKHALYUZIN.  I don’t dare, Samson Silych, talk about it with you, sir!  I don’t want to appear a scoundrel to you.

BOLSHOV.  Get along with you, you foolish youngster!  If I didn’t love you, would I talk with you like this?  Do you understand that I can make you happy for life?  I can simply make your life for you.

PODKHALYUZIN.  And don’t I love you, Samson Silych, more than my own father?  Damn it all!—­what a brute I am.

BOLSHOV.  Well, but you love my daughter?

PODKHALYUZIN.  I’ve wasted away entirely, sir.  My whole soul has turned over long since, sir!

BOLSHOV.  Well, if your soul has turned over, we’ll set you up again.  Johnny’s the boy for our Jenny!

PODKHALYUZIN.  Daddy, why do you favor me?  I’m not worth it.  I’m not worth it!  My poor face would positively crack a mirror.

BOLSHOV.  What of your face!  Here, I transfer all the property to you; so that afterwards the creditors will be sorry that they didn’t take twenty-five kopeks on the ruble.

PODKHALYUZIN.  You can bet they’ll be sorry, sir!

BOLSHOV.  Well, you get off to town now, and after a while come back to the girl; we’ll play a little joke on ’em.

PODKHALYUZIN.  Very good, daddy, sir! [They go out.

ACT III

Setting as in ACT I

SCENE I

BOLSHOV comes in and sits down in the armchair; for some time he looks into the corners and yawns.

BOLSHOV.  Here’s the life; it’s well said:  vanity of vanities, and all is vanity.  The devil knows, I myself can’t make out what I want.  If I were to take a snack of something, I’d spoil my dinner, and if I sit still I’ll go crazy.  Perhaps I might kill a little time drinking tea. [Silence] Here’s all there is to it; a man lives, and lives, and all at once he dies and he turns to dust.  Oh, Lord, oh, Lord!

[He yawns and looks into the corners.

SCENE II

AGRAFENA KONDRATYEVNA comes in with LIPOCHKA, who is very much dressed up.

AGRAFENA KONDRATYEVNA.  Get along, get along, my darling; don’t catch yourself on the sides of the doorway.  Just look, Samson Silych, my dear lord and master, and admire how I’ve rigged up our daughter!  Phew! go away!  What a peony-rose she is now! [To her] Ah, you little angel, you princess, you little cherub, you! [To him] Well, Samson Silych, isn’t it all right?  Only she ought to ride in a six-horse carriage.

BOLSHOV.  She’ll go in a two-horse carriage—­she’s no highflying proprietress.

AGRAFENA KONDRATYEVNA.  To be sure, she’s no general’s daughter, but, all the same, she’s a beauty!  Well, pet the child a little; what are you growling like a bear for?

BOLSHOV.  Well, how do you want me to pet her?  Shall I lick her hands, or bow down to her feet?  Fine circus, I must say!  I’ve seen something more elegant than that.