SCENE XI
The same and PODKHALYÚZIN, who enters
BOLSHÓV. What do you say, Lázar? Just come from town? How are your affairs?
PODKHALYÚZIN. Oh, they're getting on so-so; thank God, sir! Good morning,
Sysóy Psoich! [Bows.
RISPOLÓZHENSKY. How do you do, my dear Lázar Elizárych! [Bows.
BOLSHÓV. If they're getting on, let 'em get. [After a short silence] But, look here, Lázar, when you make up the balance for me at your leisure, you might deduct the retail items sold to the gentry, and the rest of that sort of thing. You see, we're trading and trading, my boy, but there's not a kopek of profit in it. Maybe the clerks are going wrong and are carrying off stuff to their folks and mistresses. You ought to give 'em a word of advice. What's the use of fooling around without making any profits? Don't they know the tricks of the trade? It's high time, it seems to me.
PODKHALYÚZIN. How in the world can they help knowing, Samsón Sílych? It seems as if I were always in town and always talking to them, sir.
BOLSHÓV. But what do you say?
PODKHALYÚZIN. Why, the usual thing, sir. I try to have everything in order and as it should be. "Now, my boys," I say, "look sharp, now. Maybe there's a chance for a sale; some idiot of a purchaser may turn up, or a colored pattern may catch some young lady's eye, and click!" I say, "you add a ruble or two to the price per yard."
BOLSHÓV. I suppose you know, brother, how the Germans in our shops swindle the gentlemen. Even if we're not Germans, but orthodox Christians, we, too, like to eat stuffed pasties. Ain't that so? Ha?
RISPOLÓZHENSKY laughs.
PODKHALYÚZIN. Why certainly, sir. "And you must measure," I say, "more naturally: pull and stretch ju-u-u-st enough, God save us, not to tear the cloth: you see," I say, "we don't have to wear it afterwards. Well, and if they look the other way, nobody's to blame if you should happen to measure one yard of cloth twice."
BOLSHÓV. It's all one. I suppose the tailor'd steal it. Ha? He'd steal it,
I suppose?
RISPOLÓZHENSKY. He'd steal it, Samsón Sílych, certainly that rascal would steal it; I know these tailors.
BOLSHÓV. That's it; the whole lot of them are rascals, and we get the thanks.
RISPOLÓZHENSKY. Quite right, Samsón Sílych, you're certainly speaking the truth.
BOLSHÓV. Ah, Lázar, profits are rotten these days: it's not as it used to be. [After a moment of silence] Well, did you bring the paper?
PODKHALYÚZIN. [Taking it from his pocket and handing it over] Be so good as to read it, sir.
BOLSHÓV. Just give it here; we'll take a look. [He puts on his spectacles and examines the paper.
RISPOLÓZHENSKY. Samsón Sílych, I'll just take a thimbleful. He drinks, then puts on his spectacles, sits down beside BOLSHÓV, and looks at the newspapers.
BOLSHÓV. [Reads aloud] "Crown announcements, and from various societies. One, two, three, four, five, and six, from the Foundlings' Hospital." That's not in our line: it's not for us to buy peasants. "Seven and eight from Moscow University, from the Government Regencies, from the Office of the Board of Charities." Well, we'll pass that up, too. "From the City Council of Six." Now, sir, maybe there's something here! [He reads] "The Moscow City Council of Six hereby announces: Would not some one care to take in his charge the collection of taxes as named below?" That's not our line, you have to give security. "The Office of the Widows' Home hereby invites—" Let it invite, we won't go. "From the Orphans' Court." I haven't any father or mother, myself. [Examines farther] Aha! Here something's slipped up! Listen here, Lázar! "Year so-and-so, twelfth day of September, according to the decision of the Commerce Court, the merchant Fedót Selivérstov Pleshkóv, of the first guild, was declared an insolvent debtor, in consequence of which—" What's the use of explaining? Everybody knows the consequences. There you are, Fedót Selivérstov! What a grandee he was, and he's gone to smash! But say, Lázar, doesn't he owe us something?
PODKHALYÚZIN. He owes us a very little, sir. They took somewhere between six and eight barrels of sugar for home use.
BOLSHÓV. A bad business, Lázar. Well, he'll pay me back in full, out of friendliness.
PODKHALYÚZIN. It's doubtful, Sir.
BOLSHÓV. We'll settle it somehow. [Reads] "Moscow merchant of the first guild, Antíp Sysóyev Enótov, declared an insolvent debtor—" Does he owe us anything?
PODKHALYÚZIN. For vegetable oil, sir; just before Lent they took about three kegs, sir.
BOLSHÓV. Those blooming vegetarians that keep all the fasts! They want to please God at other people's expense. Brother, don't you trust their sedate ways! Those people cross themselves with one hand, and slip the other into your pocket. Here's the third; "Moscow merchant of the second guild, Efrém Lúkin Poluarshínnikov[1], declared an insolvent debtor." Well, what about him?
[Footnote 1: Half a yard.]
PODKHALYÚZIN. We have his note, sir.
BOLSHÓV. Protested?
PODKHALYÚZIN. Yes, sir. He himself's in hiding, sir.
BOLSHÓV. Well! And the fourth there, Samopálov. Why! have they got a combination against us?
PODKHALYÚZIN. Such an underhanded gang, sir.
BOLSHÓV. [Turning over the pages] One couldn't get through reading them until to-morrow. Take it away!
PODKHALYÚZIN. They only dirty the paper. What a moral lesson for the whole merchant corporation! [Silence.
RISPOLÓZHENSKY. Good-by, Samsón Sílych, I'll run home now; I have some little matters to look after.
BOLSHÓV. You might sit a little while longer.
RISPOLÓZHENSKY. No, confound it, Samsón Sílych, I haven't time. I'll come to you as early as possible to-morrow morning.
BOLSHÓV. Well, as you choose!
RISPOLÓZHENSKY. Good-by! Good-by, Lázar Elizárych! [He goes out.