TIHON. Well... give over.
MERIK. I want you, you fleecer, to take the boots off me, a poor tramp.
TIHON. Well, well... don’t get excited. Here have a glass.... Have a drink, now!
MERIK. People, what do I want? Do I want him to stand me vodka, or to take off my boots? Didn’t I say it properly? [To TIHON] Didn’t you hear me rightly? I’ll wait a moment, perhaps you’ll hear me then.
[There is excitement among the pilgrims and tramps, who half-raise themselves in order to look at TIHON and MERIK. They wait in silence.]
TIHON. The devil brought you here! [Comes out from behind the bar] What a gentleman! Come on now. [Takes off MERIK’S boots] You child of Cain...
MERIK. That’s right. Put them side by side.... Like that... you can go now!
TIHON. [Returns to the bar-counter] You’re too fond of being clever. You do it again and I’ll turn you out of the inn! Yes! [To BORTSOV, who is approaching] You, again?
BORTSOV. Look here, suppose I give you something made of gold.... I will give it to you.
TIHON. What are you shaking for? Talk sense!