Yaìch. But the old matchmaker told me.... Oh! the old hag! A monster in human.... (Aside.) By the bye, though, he may be making it all up. I’ll submit the old woman to a strict interrogation. And, if it’s true, ... oh! I’ll give her something she won’t forget in a hurry!
Anoùch. (to Kochkaryòv). Permit me, too, to trespass on your time with a question. Not being myself acquainted with the French language, I have great difficulty in discovering whether a woman knows French or not. Does the lady of the house——
Koch. She doesn’t know A from B.
Anoùch. Is it possible?
Koch. Oh! I know that very well! She was at boarding-school with my wife; and she was the idle one of the school—always in the dunce’s cap. And as for the French master, he used simply to beat her with a stick.
Anoùch. Just imagine! The first minute that I saw her I had a sort of presentiment that she doesn’t know French.
Yaìch. French be hanged! But that confounded matchmaker.... Oh! the old hag! the old brute! If only you knew the way she described it all! Like a painter; for all the world like a painter! “A house, wings, basements, silver spoons, sledges, nothing to do but to get in and drive!” One hardly ever comes across such a page in a novel! Oh! you old harridan! once I get hold of you!...
(Enter Fèkla. All crowd round her and begin to speak at once.)
Yaìch. Ah—h—h! There she is! Just come here a minute, you old——! Just come here a minute!
Anoùch. How could you deceive me so, Fèkla Ivànovna?