And his eyes dart about like little animals. They
make you nervous.

ANNA. Let me see what my husband writes.
[Reads.] "I hasten to let you know, dear, that my
position was extremely uncomfortable, but relying on
the mercy of God, two pickles extra and a half portion
of caviar, one ruble and twenty-five kopeks." [Stops.]
I don't understand. What have pickles and caviar got to
do with it?

DOBCHINSKY. Oh, Anton Antonovich hurriedly wrote
on a piece of scrap paper. There's a kind of bill on it.

ANNA. Oh, yes, I see. [Goes on reading.] "But
relying on the mercy of God, I believe all will turn out
well in the end. Get a room ready quickly for the distinguished
guest--the one with the gold wall paper.
Don't bother to get any extras for dinner because we'll
have something at the hospital with Artemy Filippovich.
Order a little more wine, and tell Abdulin to send the
best, or I'll wreck his whole cellar. I kiss your hand,
my dearest, and remain yours, Anton Skvoznik-Dmukhanovsky."
Oh my! I must hurry. Hello, who's
there? Mishka?

DOBCHINSKY [Runs to the door and calls.] Mishka!
Mishka! Mishka! [Mishka enters.]

ANNA. Listen! Run over to Abdulin--wait, I'll