BOLSHÓV. That's just it, daughter; God only knows; but all the same your father's in jail.
OLIMPIÁDA SAMSÓNOVNA. Why, daddy, there are better people than you and me there, too.
BOLSHÓV. There are, that's so! But how does it feel to be there? How'd you like to go through the street with a soldier? Oh, daughter! You see they've known me here in this city for forty years; for forty years they've all bowed to me down to their belts, but now the street brats point their fingers at me.
AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. You haven't any color at all, my darling! You look like a ghost.
PODKHALYÚZIN. Ah, daddy, God is merciful! When the rough places are smoothed over it'll all be pleasant again. Well, daddy, what do the creditors say?
BOLSHÓV. Here's what: they've agreed on the terms. "What's the use," they say, "of dragging it out? Maybe it'll do good, maybe it won't; but just give something in cash, and deuce take you!"
PODKHALYÚZIN. Why not give 'em something, sir! By all means do, sir! But do they ask much, daddy?
BOLSHÓV. They ask twenty-five kopeks.
PODKHALYÚZIN. That's a good deal, daddy!
BOLSHÓV. Well, man, I know myself that it's a good deal; but what's to be done? They won't take less.