“God assist you!” said Ivan Ivanovitch.
“Ah! how do you do, Ivan Ivanovitch?” replied a voice from the corner of the room. Then only did Ivan Ivanovitch perceive Ivan Nikiforovitch lying upon a rug which was spread on the floor. “Excuse me for appearing before you in a state of nature.”
“Not at all. You have been asleep, Ivan Nikiforovitch?”
“I have been asleep. Have you been asleep, Ivan Ivanovitch?”
“I have.”
“And now you have risen?”
“Now I have risen. Christ be with you, Ivan Nikiforovitch! How can you sleep until this time? I have just come from the farm. There’s very fine barley on the road, charming! and the hay is tall and soft and golden!”
“Gorpina!” shouted Ivan Nikiforovitch, “fetch Ivan Ivanovitch some vodka, and some pastry and sour cream!”
“Fine weather we’re having to-day.”
“Don’t praise it, Ivan Ivanovitch! Devil take it! You can’t get away from the heat.”