BUBNOFF. He’s all right all the same—occasionally he kicks—as he did about your passport . . .
[Alyoshka comes in, slightly drunk, with a concertina in his hand, whistling.]
ALYOSHKA. Hey there, lodgers!
BUBNOFF. What are you yelling for?
ALYOSHKA. Excuse me—I beg your pardon! I’m a well-bred man—
BUBNOFF. On a spree again?
ALYOSHKA. Right you are! A moment ago Medyakin, the precinct captain, threw me out of the police station and said: “Look here—I don’t want as much as a smell of you to stay in the streets—d’you hear?” I’m a man of principles, and the boss croaks at me—and what’s a boss anyway—pah!—it’s all bosh—the boss is a drunkard. I don’t make any demands on life. I want nothing—that’s all. Offer me one ruble, offer me twenty—it doesn’t affect me. [Nastya comes from the kitchen] Offer me a million—I won’t take it! And to think that I, a respectable man, should be ordered about by a pal of mine—and he a drunkard! I won’t have it—I won’t!
[Nastya stands in the doorway, shaking her head at Alyoshka.]
LUKA [good-naturedly] Well, boy, you’re a bit confused—