"What now?" he asked in an angry whisper. "Have you thought it over again?"
"Bring Darya," answered Peredonov.
"Well, just wait!" whispered Routilov in a rage.
Peredonov stood there and thought of Darya, and again his brief seductive vision of her was replaced by apprehension. She was too quick and impertinent. She would make life intolerable to him. "And what on earth's the good of standing here waiting," reflected Peredonov, "I might get a cold. And you can't tell, there may be someone hiding in the ditch or behind the grass, who'll suddenly jump out and murder me." Peredonov grew very depressed. Then again none of them had any dowry to speak of. That could command no patronage in the department of Education. Varvara would complain to the Princess. As it was the Head-Master was sharpening his teeth for Peredonov.
Peredonov began to get vexed with himself. Why was he here, entangling himself with the Routilovs? It must be that Routilov had bewitched him. Yes, he must really have bewitched him! He must make a counter-charm at once.
Peredonov twirled round on his heels, spat on each side of him and mumbled:
"Chure-churashki. Churki-balvashki, buki-bukashkii, vedi-tarakashki. Chure menya. Chure menya. Chure, chure, chure. Chure-perechure-raschiure."[1]
His face wore an expression of stern attention, as if at the carrying out of a dignified ceremony. After this indispensable action he felt himself out of danger of Routilov's spells. He struck the window decisively with his stick and muttered angrily:
"I've had enough of this! I won't be enticed any further. No, I don't want to get married to-day," he announced to Routilov, whose head was thrust out of the window.
"What on earth's the matter with you, Ardalyon Borisitch? Why, everything's ready!" said Routilov persuasively.