“You’re a pretty fellow,” said Gavrila, and paused.  “A pretty fellow you are, there’s no denying!”

Kapiton only twitched his little shoulders.  “Are you any better, pray?” he thought to himself.

“Just look at yourself, now, look at yourself,” Gavrila went on reproachfully; “now, whatever do you look like?”

Kapiton serenely surveyed his shabby, tattered coat and his patched trousers, and with special attention stared at his burst boots, especially the one on the tiptoe of which his right foot so gracefully poised, and he fixed his eyes again on the steward.

“Well?”

“Well?” repeated Gavrila.  “Well?  And then you say well?  You look like Old Nick himself, God forgive my saying so, that’s what you look like.”

Kapiton blinked rapidly.

“Go on abusing me, go on, if you like, Gavrila Andreitch,” he thought to himself again.

“Here you’ve been drunk again,” Gavrila began, “drunk again, haven’t you?  Eh?  Come, answer me!”

“Owing to the weakness of my health, I have exposed myself to spirituous beverages, certainly,” replied Kapiton.

“Owing to the weakness of your health! . . .  They let you off too easy, that’s what it is; and you’ve been apprenticed in Petersburg. . .  Much you learned in your apprenticeship!  You simply eat your bread in idleness.”

“In that matter, Gavrila Andreitch, there is One to judge me, the Lord God Himself, and no one else.  He also knows what manner of man I be in this world, and whether I eat my bread in idleness.  And as concerning your contention regarding drunkenness, in that matter, too, I am not to blame, but rather a friend; he led me into temptation, but was diplomatic and got away, while I . . .”

“While you were left like a goose, in the street.  Ah, you’re a dissolute fellow!  But that’s not the point,” the steward went on, “I’ve something to tell you.  Our lady . . .” here he paused a minute, “it’s our lady’s pleasure that you should be married.  Do you hear?  She imagines you may be steadier when you’re married.  Do you understand?”

“To be sure I do.”

“Well, then.  For my part I think it would be better to give you a good hiding.  But there—­it’s her business.  Well? are you agreeable?”

Kapiton grinned.

“Matrimony is an excellent thing for any one, Gavrila Andreitch; and, as far as I am concerned, I shall be quite agreeable.”

“Very well, then,” replied Gavrila, while he reflected to himself:  “There’s no denying the man expresses himself very properly.  Only there’s one thing,” he pursued aloud:  “the wife our lady’s picked out for you is an unlucky choice.”

“Why, who is she, permit me to inquire?”

“Tatiana.”

“Tatiana?”

And Kapiton opened his eyes, and moved a little away from the wall.

“Well, what are you in such a taking for? . . .  Isn’t she to your taste, hey?”