Yaìch (aside). That man’s face looks to me very suspicious; I shouldn’t wonder if he’s come about the same business that I have. (Aloud.) You doubtless have some ... some ... business with the lady of the house?
Anòuch. N-n-no.... Oh, no! I have no business.... I just came in as I was taking a walk.
Yaìch (aside). He’s a liar! taking a walk, indeed! The scoundrel wants to get married! (Door-bell rings, Douniàshka runs through into hall and opens door. Voices without: “At home?” “At home.” Enter Zhevàkin and Douniàshka.)
Zhev. (to Douniàshka). Just give me a brush, will you, my dear? One gets so dusty in the street. And take off that cobweb, please. (Turns round.) That’s right; thank you, my dear. Just look on the other side; I fancy there’s a spider running up me. Are you sure there’s nothing on the back of my collar? Thank you, child. There! I’m sure there’s something! (Smooths coat-sleeve with his hand, and looks at Anoùchkin and Yaìchnitza.) It’s real English cloth. In ’95, when I was only a midshipman, and our squadron was in Sicily, I bought it and had a uniform made; in 1801, under his late Majesty, Paul Petròvich, when I was made lieutenant, the cloth was as good as new; in 1814, I went on an expedition round the world, and it only began to get a little worn at the seams; in 1815, when I retired from the service, I just had it turned; and now I’ve worn it ten years, and it looks almost new still. Thank you, my dear! My little beauty! (Kisses his hand to her, goes up to mirror, and arranges his hair.)
Anoùch. If I may take the liberty to ask, Sicily.... You were just mentioning Sicily—it is a fine country, is it not?
Zhev. Oh, beautiful! We spent thirty-four days there. I can assure you it’s a most charming place—such mountains; and the most beautiful trees ... what they call granite trees. And the loveliest Italian girls—perfect little rosebuds, ... one can hardly refrain from kissing them.
Anoùch. And are they well educated?
Zhev. Magnificently; as highly educated as any countess here. I remember, when I used to go along the street,—well, of course you know, a Russian lieutenant, epaulettes here (points to his shoulder), gold embroidery, and all that,—well, and these little black-eyed beauties,—I must tell you, they have verandahs to every house, and roofs as flat as this floor—well, you look up as you pass, and there sits a little rosebud; and of course one must keep up one’s reputation (makes a salute and waves his hand), and she just answers like that (makes gesture with his hand). Of course she’s always beautifully dressed—little silk cords, and taffeta stuff, and earrings, and all sorts of feminine trifles, ... in a word, the daintiest little sugar-plum——
Anoùch. Allow me to ask you one more question. In what language do people converse in Sicily?
Zhev. Oh, always in French, of course.