"It's you, Ardalyon Borisitch, who know and pronounce all sorts of magic words, but I never occupied myself with black magic. I hadn't any idea of bedevilling your vodka or anything else, but it's possible that it's you who've bewitched my brides from me."
"What an idea!" said Peredonov angrily. "I don't want your brides. I can get them by cleaner means."
"You've cast a spell to burst my eyes," continued Volodin, "but mind your spectacles don't burst sooner."
Peredonov caught his glasses in fear.
"What nonsense!" he growled. "You let your tongue run away with you."
Varvara looked warningly at Volodin and said crossly:
"Don't be spiteful, Pavel Vassilyevitch, eat your soup, or else it'll get cold. Eat, you spiteful thing!"
She thought that Ardalyon Borisitch had exorcised himself in time. Volodin began to eat his soup. They were all silent for a while, and presently Volodin said in a hurt voice:
"No wonder I dreamed last night that I was being smeared with honey. Did you smear me, Ardalyon Borisitch?"
"That's not the way you ought to be smeared," said Varvara still crossly.