Koch. Beyond the wine-vaults! Then I don’t remember.
Fèkla. Well, when you turn into the Row, you see a stall; and you pass the stall and turn to the left; and there, straight in front of you, just right before your eyes, there’s a wooden house, where a dressmaker lives; you don’t go into the dressmaker’s, you go on to the next house but one; it’s a stone house, and that’s where she lives—Agàfia Tikhònovna.
Koch. All right, all right! now I can manage it all. You can go now; we don’t want you any more.
Fèkla. What’s that? Do you mean to say that you mean to settle a wedding yourself?
Koch. Yes, yes, myself—only don’t you interfere.
Fèkla. Oh, for shame! for shame! That’s not a man’s business! Little father, keep out of it.
Koch. Be off! be off! you don’t understand anything about it; don’t interfere; mind your own business, and get along with you!
Fèkla. All you care for is to take the bread out of people’s mouths;—you’re no better than an infidel! A man! and to mix up in things like that! If I’d known, I wouldn’t have told you a word. (Exit sulkily.)
Koch. Now, my lad, this business musn’t be put off—put on your hat and come along.
Pod. Well, but I—I—I haven’t decided—I was only thinking——