Pod. That’s all right. Well, and didn’t the tailor ask why your master wants a dress-coat of such fine cloth?
Step. No.
Pod. Didn’t he say anything about whether your master thought of getting married?
Step. No; he didn’t talk about it at all.
Pod. But I suppose you told him what my position is, and where I serve?
Step. Yes, sir.
Pod. What did he say to that?
Step. He said, “I’ll do my best.”
Pod. That’s all right. Now you may go. (Exit Stepàn.) I am inclined to think that a black dress-coat is the most decorous. Coloured coats are all very well for secretaries, and clerks, and all that small fry—they look just fit for milksops. People higher up in the service ought to observe what is called a—a—a—a——There! I’ve forgotten the word! It’s a fine word; and I’ve forgotten it! It’s all very well to put on airs, little father, but an aulic counsellor takes the rank of colonel too; the only difference is that he has a uniform without epaulettes. Hi! Stepàn! (Enter Stepàn.) Did you buy the blacking?
Step. Yes, sir.