Paul. Well, then, what do you want?
Unknown. I’ll tell you. Either you give me all the money to-morrow, or else we’ll re-write the document.
Paul. Certainly. We’ll re-write it now if you like.
Unknown. No; we’ll re-write it to-morrow; only then your wife must sign her name as security.
Paul. What for?
Unknown. Oh! well, the broker will know what for; otherwise I shall simply go to law. (Rises.)
Paul. All right; all right.
Unknown. Mind, then, to-morrow. (Goes to door.) You’re not thinking of getting out of it anyway, are you? You can’t do that with me. (Exit.)
Paul. This sort of thing is really quite annoying! Here I am, as rich as you please, and yet I can’t get any money. I shall have to ask my wife for it; it’s all the same now whether the money is hers or mine; we have everything in common. It’s even better that it should be in my hands. And what is the use of my putting it off so long? I only get more and more entangled.
(Enter Serafìma. Paul writes.)