SCENE VI
The same and FOMÍNISHNA, who enters and places vodka and relishes on the table.
LÍPOCHKA. I won't marry a merchant, not for anything. I won't! As if I was brought up for that, and learned French[1], and to play the piano, and to dance! No, no; get him wherever you want to, but get me an aristocrat.
[Footnote 1: Evidently, Bolshóv and his family, like many other wealthy Moscow merchants, belonged to the sect of the Old Believers, one of whose dearest tenets is that the sign of the cross should be made with two fingers instead of with three.]
AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. Here, you talk with her.
FOMÍNISHNA. What put aristocrats into your head? What's the special relish in them? They don't even grow beards like Christians; they don't go to the public baths, and don't make pasties on holidays. But, you see, even if you're married, you'll get sick of nothing but sauce and gravy.
LÍPOCHKA. Fomínishna, you were born a peasant, and you'll turn up your toes a peasant. What's your merchant to me? What use would he be? Has he any ambition to rise in the world? What do I want of his mop?
FOMÍNISHNA. Not a mop, but the hair that God gave him, miss, that's it.
AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. See what a rough old codger your dad is; he doesn't trim his beard; yet, somehow, you manage to kiss him.
LÍPOCHKA. Dad is one thing, but my husband is another. But why do you insist, mamma? I have already said that I won't marry a merchant, and I won't! I'd rather die first; I'll cry to the end of my life; if tears give out, I'll swallow pepper.
FOMÍNISHNA. Are you getting ready to bawl? Don't you think of it!—What fun do you get out of teasing her, Agraféna Kondrátyevna?
AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. Who's teasing her? She's mighty touchy.
USTÍNYA NAÚMOVNA. Well, well, if you've got your mind set on a nobleman, we'll find you one. What sort do you want; rather stout, or rather lean?
LÍPOCHKA. Doesn't matter, it's all right if he's rather stout, so long as he's no shorty. Of course he'd better be tall than an insignificant little runt! And most of all, Ustinya Naúmovna, he mustn't be snub-nosed, and he absolutely must be dark-complexioned. It's understood, of course, that he must be dressed like the men in the magazines. [She glances at the mirror] Oh, Lord, my hair looks like a feather-duster to-day!
USTÍNYA NAÚMOVNA. Now, my jewel, I have a husband for you of the very sort you describe: aristocratic, tall, and brown-complected.
LÍPOCHKA. Oh, Ustinya Naúmovna! Not brown-complected, but dark-complexioned!
USTÍNYA NAÚMOVNA. Yes, much I need, in my old age, to split my tongue talking your lingo. What I said, goes. He has peasants, and wears a norder about his neck. Now you go get dressed, and your mamma and I will talk this thing over.
LÍPOCHKA. Oh, my dear, sweet Ustinya Naúmovna, come up to my room a bit later; I must talk with you. Let's go, Fomínishna.
FOMÍNISHNA. Ha, what a fidgety child you are!
[They go out.