"But how about dusting the books and pictures?"
"The books and pictures? Before Christmas; then Anísiya and I look over all the closets. But now when should we be able to do it? You are always at home."
"I sometimes go to the theatre or go out to dine: you might—"
"Do house-cleaning at night?"
Oblómof looked at him reproachfully, shook his head, and uttered a sigh; but Zakhár gazed indifferently out of the window and also sighed deeply. The master seemed to be thinking, "Well, brother, you are even more of an Oblómof than I am myself;" while Zakhár probably said to himself, "Rubbish! You as my master talk strange and melancholy words, but how do dust and cobwebs concern you?"
"Don't you know that moths breed in dust?" asked Ílya Ílyitch. "I have even seen bugs on the wall!"
"Well, I have fleas on me sometimes," replied Zakhár in a tone of indifference.
"Well, is that anything to boast about? That is shameful," exclaimed Oblómof.
Zakhár's face was distorted by a smirking smile, which seemed to embrace even his eyebrows and his side-whiskers, which for this reason spread apart; and over his whole face up to his very forehead extended a ruddy spot.
"Why, am I to blame that there are bugs on the wall?" he asked in innocent surprise: "was it I who invented them?"