SCENE V

PODKHALYÚZIN _and_ RISPOLÓZHENSKY


PODKHALYÚZIN. Ah, my respects to you, sir!

RISPOLÓZHENSKY. Mine to you, my dear Lázar Elizárych, mine to you! Fine. I
think, now, perhaps there's something I can do. Is that vodka, near you?
I'll just take a thimbleful, Lázar Elizárych. My hands have begun to shake
mornings, especially the right one. When I go to write something, Lázar
Elizárych, I have to hold it with my left. I swear I do. But take a sip of
vodka, and it seems to do it good. [_Drinks._

PODKHALYÚZIN. Why do your hands shake?

RISPOLÓZHENSKY. [_Sits down by the table_] From anxiety, Lázar Elizárych;
from anxiety, my boy.

PODKHALYÚZIN. Indeed, sir! But I suppose it's because you're plundering
people overmuch. God is punishing you for your unrighteousness.

RISPOLÓZHENSKY. He, he, he!--Lázar Elizárych! How could I plunder anybody?
My business is of a small sort. I'm like a little bird, picking up small
grains.

PODKHALYÚZIN. You deal in small quantities, of course?

RISPOLÓZHENSKY. You'd deal even in small quantities if you couldn't get
anything else. Well, it wouldn't matter so much if I were alone; but, you