MARTHA. Yes, here I am, my dear little Sasha, and proud to
congratulate you. [They kiss each other] Many happy returns of
the day, dear!

SASHA. Thank you! [She goes and sits down by her father.]

LEBEDIEFF. As you were saying, Avdotia Nazarovna, husbands are
hard to find. I don't want to be rude, but I must say that the
young men of the present are a dull and poky lot, poor fellows!
They can't dance or talk or drink as they should do.

AVDOTIA. Oh, as far as drinking goes, they are all experts. Just
give them--give them---

LEBEDIEFF. Simply to drink is no art. A horse can drink. No, it
must be done in the right way. In my young days we used to sit
and cudgel our brains all day over our lessons, but as soon as
evening came we would fly off on some spree and keep it up till
dawn. How we used to dance and flirt, and drink, too! Or
sometimes we would sit and chatter and discuss everything under
the sun until we almost wagged our tongues off. But now-- [He
waves his hand] Boys are a puzzle to me. They are not willing
either to give a candle to God or a pitchfork to the devil! There
is only one young fellow in the country who is worth a penny, and
he is married. [Sighs] They say, too, that he is going crazy.

MARTHA. Who is he?

LEBEDIEFF. Nicholas Ivanoff.