once they get an idea into their head, you simply can't drive it out. It's
just as when, three years ago, he wanted to shave his beard. No matter how
much Agraféna Kondrátyevna begged and wept, "No," he said, "afterwards I'll
let it grow again; but for the time being I'll have my own way." And he
took and shaved it. It's the same way with this business; if I make a hit
with him, or the idea strikes him all right--then it's sweet wedding-bells
to-morrow, and that's all, and don't you dare argue! I could jump from the
tower of Ivan the Great for the joy of it.

_Enter_ TISHKA _with the bottle._



SCENE IV

PODKHALYÚZIN _and_ TISHKA


TISHKA. [_Coming in with the bottle_] Here I am! I've come.

PODKHALYÚZIN. Listen, Tishka, is Ustinya Naúmovna here?

TISHKA. Up-stairs there. And the shyster's coming.

PODKHALYÚZIN. Well, put the vodka on the table, and bring some relishes.

TISHKA _puts down the vodka and brings relishes; then goes out._