LYUBOV GORDEYEVNA.  Yes.

KORSHUNOV.  Good!  Now, we’ll begin with this point.  Will a young man appreciate your love?  Any girl will love a young man; that is nothing unusual for him; but to an old man it is precious.  An old man will reward you for your love with some little gift, this and that—­with gold, and with velvet—­and there’s nothing he won’t give you. [Kisses her hand] And in Moscow there are lots of nice things in the shops; there are things worth giving!  So it’s nice to fall in love with an old man.  That’s number one for you!  And then this is what happens with a young and good-looking husband.  You see they are a fickle lot!  Before you know it he will be running after some one else, or some young lady will fall in love with him, and then his wife may pine away.  Then come reproaches and jealousy.  And what is this jealousy, eh?  He, he, he!  Do you know, young lady, what this jealousy is?

LYUBOV GORDEYEVNA.  No, I don’t know.

KORSHUNOV.  But I know!  It isn’t like a needle prick in the finger; it’s far more painful than that.  You see the cursed thing consumes a man.  From jealousy people stab one another, and poison one another with arsenic! [Laughs spasmodically and coughs] But when any one falls in love with an old man, then all is peaceful for his wife.  And here’s something else I will tell you, my dear young lady:  Young men like to go on sprees; they like gayety and distraction, and all sorts of dissipations, and their wives may sit at home and wait for them till midnight.  And they come home drunk, and bully their wives, and swagger.  But an old man will just sit near his wife; he’ll die before he’ll leave her.  And he would like to look into her eyes all the time and to caress her and to kiss her hands. [Kisses them] Just like that.

LYUBOV GORDEYEVNA.  Did your deceased wife love you?

KORSHUNOV. [Looks at her attentively] And why do you ask this, young lady?

LYUBOV GORDEYEVNA.  I just wanted to know.

KORSHUNOV.  You wanted to know? [Rises] No, she didn’t love me, and I didn’t love her either.  She wasn’t worth loving—­I took her, poor, a beggar, just for her beauty; I took care of her whole family; I saved her father from prison; she went about in gold.

LYUBOV GORDEYEVNA.  Love cannot be bought with gold.

KORSHUNOV.  Whether you love a man or not, you ought to show him some regard.  They needed money, they had nothing to live on; I gave it to them, I didn’t refuse.  And I needed their love.  Had I a right to exact this or not?  You see I paid money for it!  It’s a sin to make complaints about me.  Whoever I love has a good living in the world, and if I don’t love any one, then he need not reproach me. [He becomes excited and walks about] Yes, I’m that man’s enemy; he’d better keep out of my sight!  My words and looks, more than my deeds, shall pursue him!  I won’t give the man room to breathe!  I—­[Stops and bursts out laughing] And you really thought that I was such a cross man?  He, he!  I said it in fun, for a joke!  I’m a simple, kind old man!  I’ll dandle you in my arms [hums]; I’ll rock you in a little cradle; I’ll sing you to sleep. [Kisses her hands.