SERAFIMA: “FIVE—THOUSAND—SILVER—ROUBLES! HOW MUCH WILL THAT BE IN PAPER MONEY?”
PAUL: “HOW SHOULD I KNOW?”
Serafima. Five—thousand—silver—roubles! How much will that be in paper money?
Paul. How should I know?
Serafima. Stop; I’ll calculate it. (Takes paper and pencil out of pocket and calculates.) Ah! ah! (Rushes away.)
Paul. What can be the matter now? What’s frightened her? I can’t make it out! Does she suppose I’m going to spend all my life in making love? That’s a good idea! Is she miserly? or what is it? I must find out which she loves best—me or money. If she loves me best, the matter can be set right. But if she loves the money best, I’ve run my neck into a halter.
(Enter Madame Prèzhnev.)
Madame P. Bonjour, Paul!
Paul. Bonjour, Maman!
Madame P. (sits down). I’ve just been into your wife’s room. What is the matter with her? She’s crying, and getting ready to go out.
Paul. We’ve had a little scene.