POTÁPYCH. What's that! No matter how much you swear, I know you! For instance, why are you coming to the mistress now?
VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. To wish the benefactress good morning.
POTÁPYCH. You'd better not come.
VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Why so?
POTÁPYCH. It must be she got out the wrong side of bed; she's out of sorts. [VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA rubs her hands with pleasure] Here now, I see that you're happy; you're dying for some deviltry or other. Phew! Lord forgive us! What a disposition!
VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. You are saying insulting words to me, Potápych, insulting to my very heart. When did I ever say anything about you to the mistress?
POTÁPYCH. If not about me, then about somebody else.
VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. But that's my business.
POTÁPYCH. Your spite's always getting in its work.
VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Not spite, not spite, my friend! You're mistaken! I have just been so insulted that it's impossible to live in this world after it. I shall die, but I shall not forget.