“Sh-sh! How am I trying to fool you? Can’t you see that my reputation may suffer?”
“From the drink? Yes, I should think so. Be off with you—be off!”
“Now, really, Màshenka, do be reasonable.”
Presently the choir-master returned, and after him came the maid-servant, carrying a tray with a decanter and a plate of cucumbers.
“Ah-h! Put it down here, my girl. Vasìli Ivànych, the first glass is yours.”
“Won’t you drink too?”
“You first; you are a guest.”
“Properly, the master of the house ought to begin,” said the deacon, modestly.
“No, no, you first, please. I’ll drink afterwards.”
“Well, if you will have it so....”