AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. Well, haven't you any news, Ustinya Naúmovna? This girl of mine is simply grieved to death.
LÍPOCHKA. And really, Ustinya Naúmovna, you keep coming, and coming, and no good comes of it.
USTÍNYA NAÚMOVNA. But one can't fix things up quickly with you, my jewels. Your daddy has his eye peeled for a rich fellow; he tells me he'll be satisfied with any bell-boy provided he has money and asks a small enough settlement. And your mamma also, Agraféna Kondrátyevna, is always wanting her own taste suited; you must be sure to give her a merchant, with a decoration, who keeps horses, and who crosses himself in the old way[1]. You also have your own notions. How's a person going to please you all?
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?