Fèkla. Why, it was you yourself that wouldn’t let me alone. It was always “Granny, find me a wife!”
Koch. Yah!... You old rat!... And what are you here for, I should like to know! You don’t mean to say Podkolyòssin wants to get married?
Fèkla. And why not? God has blessed him.
Koch. No! really? What a rascal! he never told me a word about it! Now what do you think of that, if you please? Isn’t he a sly rogue? (Enter Podkolyòssin, holding a mirror, and gazing into it intently. Kochkaryòv slips up behind, and startles him.)
Koch. Booh!
Pod. (cries out, and drops the mirror). Ah! you crazy fellow! Now what is the use of doing that? Now what a silly thing to do! You just brought my heart into my mouth!
Koch. There, I was only joking!
Pod. Fine sort of joke! I can’t get my breath yet; and there, you’ve smashed the looking-glass! And it was an expensive one—I got it in the English shop.
Koch. There, never mind! I’ll buy you another looking-glass.
Pod. Yes, I dare say! I know what those other looking-glasses are like! One’s face comes out crooked, and they make one look ten years older.