TIHON. [Looks it over] Hm.... There are all sorts of caps.... It might be a sieve from the holes in it....
FEDYA. [Laughs] A gentleman’s cap! You’ve got to take it off in front of the mam’selles. How do you do, good-bye! How are you?
TIHON. [Returns the cap to BORTSOV] I wouldn’t give anything for it. It’s muck.
BORTSOV. If you don’t like it, then let me owe you for the drink! I’ll bring in your five copecks on my way back from town. You can take it and choke yourself with it then! Choke yourself! I hope it sticks in your throat! [Coughs] I hate you!
TIHON. [Banging the bar-counter with his fist] Why do you keep on like that? What a man! What are you here for, you swindler?
BORTSOV. I want a drink! It’s not I, it’s my disease! Understand that!
TIHON. Don’t you make me lose my temper, or you’ll soon find yourself outside!
BORTSOV. What am I to do? [Retires from the bar-counter] What am I to do? [Is thoughtful.]
EFIMOVNA. It’s the devil tormenting you. Don’t you mind him, sir. The damned one keeps whispering, “Drink! Drink!” And you answer him, “I shan’t drink! I shan’t drink!” He’ll go then.
FEDYA. It’s drumming in his head.... His stomach’s leading him on! [Laughs] Your houour’s a happy man. Lie down and go to sleep! What’s the use of standing like a scarecrow in the middle of the inn! This isn’t an orchard!