LOMOV. One moment ... this very minute. The fact is, I've come to
ask the hand of your daughter, Natalya Stepanovna, in marriage.

CHUBUKOV. [Joyfully] By Jove! Ivan Vassilevitch! Say it again--I
didn't hear it all!

LOMOV. I have the honour to ask ...

CHUBUKOV. [Interrupting] My dear fellow ... I'm so glad, and so on. ...
Yes, indeed, and all that sort of thing. [Embraces and kisses
LOMOV] I've been hoping for it for a long time. It's been my
continual desire. [Sheds a tear] And I've always loved you, my
angel, as if you were my own son. May God give you both His help
and His love and so on, and I did so much hope ... What am I
behaving in this idiotic way for? I'm off my balance with joy,
absolutely off my balance! Oh, with all my soul ... I'll go and
call Natasha, and all that.

LOMOV. [Greatly moved] Honoured Stepan Stepanovitch, do you think I
may count on her consent?

CHUBUKOV. Why, of course, my darling, and ... as if she won't
consent! She's in love; egad, she's like a love-sick cat, and so
on. ... Shan't be long! [Exit.]

LOMOV. It's cold ... I'm trembling all over, just as if I'd got an
examination before me. The great thing is, I must have my mind made
up. If I give myself time to think, to hesitate, to talk a lot, to
look for an ideal, or for real love, then I'll never get married. ...
Brr! ... It's cold! Natalya Stepanovna is an excellent housekeeper,