“Strike up the band.”

“Sound a flourish! A march. ‘The Persian March.”’

“We don’t want any music! The devil take it!”

“Here is the music! Eh, Yakov Tarasovich! What a mind!”

“I was small among my brethren, but I was favoured with understanding.”

“You lie, Trofim!”

“Yakov! you’ll die soon. Oh, what a pity! Words can’t express how sorry we are!”

“But what a funeral that is going to be!”

“Gentlemen! Let us establish a Mayakin fund! I put up a thousand!”

“Silence! Hold on!”