“Listen, old man, come up here,” cried the lady, trying to outshout the child. “Ah, Trilly, you’ll kill your own mother if you make such a noise. Why ever did they let these music people in? Come nearer —nearer still; come when you’re told!... That’s better.... Oh, don’t take offence! Trilly, your mother will do all that you ask. I beseech you, miss, do try and calm the child.... Doctor, I pray you. ... How much d’you want, old man?”
Grandfather removed his cap, and his face took on a respectfully piteous expression.
“As much as your kindness will think fit, my lady, your Excellency.... We are people in a small way, and anything is a blessing for us.... Probably you will not do anything to offend an old man....”
“Ah, how senseless! Trilly, you’ll make your little throat ache.... Don’t you grasp the fact that the dog is yours and not mine.... Now, how much do you say? Ten? Fifteen? Twenty?”
“A-a-a; I wa-ant it, give me the dog, give me the dog,” squealed the boy, kicking the round stomach of the lackey who happened to be near.
“That is ... forgive me, your Serenity,” stuttered Lodishkin. “You see, I’m an old man, stupid.... It’s difficult to understand at once.... What’s more, I’m a bit deaf ... so I ought to ask, in short, what were you wishing to say?... For the dog?...”
“Ah, God in heaven! It seems to me you’re playing the idiot on purpose,” said the lady, boiling over. “Nurse, give Trilly some water at once! I ask you, in the Russian language, for how much do you wish to sell your dog? Do you understand—your dog, dog?...”
“The dog! The do-og!” cried the boy, louder than ever.
Lodishkin took offence, and put his hat on again.
“Dogs, my lady, I do not sell,” said he coldly and with dignity. “And, what is more, madam, that dog, it ought to be understood, has been for us two”—he pointed with his middle finger over his shoulder at Sergey—“has been for us two, feeder and clother. It has fed us, given us drink, and clothed us. I could not think of anything more impossible than, for example, that we should sell it.”