“I really don’t know—­there is no fixed price.”

“I work myself and am accustomed to respect the work of others.  I don’t like injustice.  It will be equally unpleasant to me if I pay you too little, or if you demand from me too much, and so I insist on your naming your charge.”

“Well, there are such different charges.”

“H’m.  In view of your hesitation, which I fail to understand, I am constrained to fix the sum myself.  I can give you two roubles.”

“Good gracious! . . .  Upon my word! . . .” says Marya Petrovna, turning crimson and stepping back.  “I am really ashamed.  Rather than take two roubles I will come for nothing . . . .  Five roubles, if you like.”

“Two roubles, not a kopeck more.  I don’t want to take advantage of you, but I do not intend to be overcharged.”

“As you please, but I am not coming for two roubles. . . .”

“But by law you have not the right to refuse.”

“Very well, I will come for nothing.”

“I won’t have you for nothing.  All work ought to receive remuneration.  I work myself and I understand that. . . .”

“I won’t come for two roubles,” Marya Petrovna answers mildly.  “I’ll come for nothing if you like.”

“In that case I regret that I have troubled you for nothing. . . .  I have the honour to wish you good-bye.”

“Well, you are a man!” says Marya Petrovna, seeing him into the entry.  “I will come for three roubles if that will satisfy you.”

Kiryakov frowns and ponders for two full minutes, looking with concentration on the floor, then he says resolutely, “No,” and goes out into the street.  The astonished and disconcerted midwife fastens the door after him and goes back into her bedroom.

“He’s good-looking, respectable, but how queer, God bless the man! . . .” she thinks as she gets into bed.

But in less than half an hour she hears another ring; she gets up and sees the same Kiryakov again.

“Extraordinary the way things are mismanaged.  Neither the chemist, nor the police, nor the house-porters can give me the address of a midwife, and so I am under the necessity of assenting to your terms.  I will give you three roubles, but . . .  I warn you beforehand that when I engage servants or receive any kind of services, I make an arrangement beforehand in order that when I pay there may be no talk of extras, tips, or anything of the sort.  Everyone ought to receive what is his due.”

Marya Petrovna has not listened to Kiryakov for long, but already she feels that she is bored and repelled by him, that his even, measured speech lies like a weight on her soul.  She dresses and goes out into the street with him.  The air is still but cold, and the sky is so overcast that the light of the street lamps is hardly visible.  The sloshy snow squelches under their feet.  The midwife looks intently but does not see a cab.

“I suppose it is not far?” she asks.