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 circ.u.mstances; 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 G.o.d, 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?

PODKHALYuZIN. If you please, sir. Now, suppose all this ends well. Very good, sir. You'll have something left with which to establish Olimpiada Samsonovna.--Well, of that there's nothing to say; let there be money, and suitors'll be found, sir. Well, but what a sin, Lord save us! if they object, and begin to hound you through the courts; and such a stigma falls upon the family, and if, furthermore, they should take away the property.

Sir, the ladies'd be obliged to endure hunger and cold, and without any care, like shelterless birdies. But Lord save them from that! What would happen then? [_He weeps._

BOLSHoV. What are you crying about?

PODKHALYuZIN. Of course, Samson Silych, I merely say that just for instance--talk at the right time, keep still at the wrong time; words don't hurt. But you see, the Old Nick is powerful--he shakes the hills.

BOLSHoV. What's to be done, my boy? Evidently such is the will of G.o.d, and you can't oppose it.

PODKHALYuZIN. That's just it, Samson Silych! But all the same, according to my foolish way of reasoning, you should settle Olimpiada Samsonovna in good time upon a good man; and then she will be, at any rate, as if behind a stone wall, sir. But the chief thing is that the man should have a soul, so that he'll feel. As for that n.o.ble's courting Olimpiada Samsonovna--why he's turned tail already.

BOLSHoV. Turned tail how? What gave you that notion?

PODKHALYuZIN. It isn't a notion, Samson Silych. You ask Ustinya Naumovna.

Must be some one who knows him heard something or other.

BOLSHoV. What of it! As my affairs are going now there's no need of such a person.

PODKHALYuZIN. Samson Silych, just take into consideration! I'm a stranger, and no relative of yours, but for the sake of your well-being I know no rest by day or by night, my very heart is all withered. But they're marrying to him the young lady who, it may be said, is an indescribable beauty; and they're giving money, sir; but he swaggers and carries it high!

Well, is there any soul in him, after all that?

BOLSHoV. Well, if he don't want her he needn't have her, and we won't cry about it.

PODKHALYuZIN. No, Samson Silych, you just consider about that: has the man any soul? Here I am, a total stranger, yet I can't see all this without tears. Just understand that, Samson Silych! n.o.body else would care enough about it to pine away because of another man's business, sir. But you see, even if you drive me out now, even if you beat me, still I won't leave you; because I cannot--I haven't that kind of a heart.

BOLSHoV. But how in the world could you think of leaving me? You see my only hope now is you. I'm old, and my affairs have gotten into a tight fix.

Just wait! It may be we'll still swing some kind of a deal such as you're not expecting.

PODKHALYuZIN. Oh, I can't do that, Samson Silych. Just understand this much: I'm absolutely not that kind of a man! To anybody else, Samson Silych, of course it's all the same; he doesn't care whether the gra.s.s grows; but I can't do that way, sir. Kindly see yourself, sir, whether I'm hustling or not. I'm simply wasting away now like some poor devil, on account of your business, sir; because I'm not that kind of a man, sir. I'm doing all this because I feel sorry for you, and not for you so much as for your family. You ought to realize that Agrafena Kondratyevna is a very tender lady, Olimpiada Samsonovna a young lady whose like can't be found on earth, sir----

BOLSHoV. Not on earth? Look here, brother, aren't you hinting around a little?

PODKHALYuZIN. Hinting, sir? No, I didn't mean, sir!----

BOLSHoV. Aha! Brother, you'd better speak more openly. Are you in love with Olimpiada Samsonovna?

PODKHALYuZIN. Why, Samson Silych, must be you want to joke me.

BOLSHoV. Joke, fiddlesticks! I'm asking you seriously.

PODKHALYuZIN. Good heavens, Samson Silych, could I dare think of such a thing, sir?

BOLSHoV. Why shouldn't you dare? Is she a princess or something like that?

PODKHALYuZIN. Maybe she's no princess; but as you've been my benefactor and taken the place of my own father--But no, Samson Silych, how is it possible, sir, how can I help feeling it!

BOLSHoV. Well, then, I suppose you don't love her?

PODKHALYuZIN. How can I help loving her, sir? Good gracious, it seems as if I loved her more than anything on earth. But no, Samson Silych, how is it possible, sir!

BOLSHoV. You ought to have said: "I love her, you see, more than anything on earth."

PODKHALYuZIN. How can I help loving her, sir? Please consider yourself: all day, I think, and all night, I think--Oh, dear me, of course Olimpiada Samsonovna is a young lady whose like can't be found on earth--But no, that cannot be, sir. What chance have I, sir?

BOLSHoV. What cannot be, you poor soft-head?

PODKHALYuZIN. How can it be possible, Samson Silych? Knowing you, sir, as I do, like my own father, and Olimpiada Samsonovna, sir; and again, knowing myself for what I'm worth--what chance have I with my calico snout, sir?

BOLSHoV. Calico nothing. Your snout'll do! So long as you have brains in your head--and you don't have to borrow any; because G.o.d has endowed you in that way. Well, Lazar, suppose I try to make a match between you and Olimpiada Samsonovna, eh? That indescribable beauty, eh?

PODKHALYuZIN. Good gracious, would I dare? It may be that Olimpiada Samsonovna won't look kindly on me, sir!

BOLSHoV. Nonsense! I don't have to dance to her piping in my old age!

She'll marry the man I tell her to. She's my child: if I want, I can eat her with my mush, or churn her into b.u.t.ter! You just talk to me about it!

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?

d.a.m.n 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!