“I will wed,” she replied, “neither this one nor that. An it please ye or not, I will wed Ivan.”
“What sayest thou, little fool? Art enraged, or hast lost thy reason? Thou wouldst share thy life with him?”
“He is my destiny. Seek not to marry me to another, else I will drown or strangle myself.”
Hitherto the old father had not honoured the poverty-stricken Ivan with so much as a look, but now he went himself to the lad to make him release his daughter. He approached. Ivan was seated, repairing an old hempen shoe.
“Good day, Ivanouchka.”
“Good day, old man.”
“What dost thou?”
“I seek to mend my hempen shoes.”
“Shoes? Thou hast need of new boots.”
“Since I have with difficulty amassed fifteen copeks to buy these shoes, where shall I find money to purchase boots?”