“He seems to be a nice man,” said mamma without looking up from her embroidery. “He is sober and steady looking.”
“My lady, I won’t marry him!” Pelagia suddenly screamed. “I declare I won’t!”
“Don’t be silly, you’re not a baby! Marriage is a serious thing, and you must think it over carefully and not scream like that for no reason at all. Do you like him?”
“Oh, my lady!” murmured Pelagia in confusion. “He does say such things—indeed he does!”
“She ought to say outright she doesn’t like him,” thought Grisha.
“What a goose you are! Tell me, do you like him?”
“He’s an old man, my lady! Hee, hee!”
“Listen to her!” the nurse burst out from the other end of the room. “He isn’t forty yet! You mustn’t look a gift-horse in the mouth! Marry him and have done with it!”
“I won’t marry him! I won’t, I won’t!” screamed Pelagia.
“Then you’re a donkey, you are! What in the world are you after, anyhow? Any other woman but you would be down on her knees to him, and you say you won’t marry him! She’s running after Grisha’s tutor, she is, my lady; she’s setting her cap at him! Ugh, the shameless creature!”