Koch. (throws himself into a chair exhausted). Oh!... Oh! dear!... I’m half killed!... If I laugh any more I shall simply die!...
Zhev. I admire your merry character. When I was in the navy, there was a midshipman in Captain Voldyrèv’s squadron—Pyetoukhòv his name was, Antòn Ivànovich—he was very merry too; sometimes, if you’d just lift up one finger—so—he’d set off laughing, and he’d laugh the whole day long. Really, just to look at him was enough to put one into a laughing mood; and at last you’d begin to laugh yourself.
Koch. (recovering his breath). Oh! Lord! have mercy upon us sinners! What has the idiot got into her head? As if she knew how to arrange a marriage! She, indeed! Now, if I arrange a marriage, it’s another matter!
Zhev. Do you seriously mean that you can get people married?
Koch. Of course I do. I can marry anybody to anybody.
Zhev. In that case, marry me to the lady of this house.
Koch. You? What do you want to be married for?
Zhev. How “what for?” Allow me to remark that is rather a strange question. What do people want to get married for?
Koch. But you heard that she has no dowry.
Zhev. That can’t be helped. Of course it’s unfortunate; but with such a very charming girl, so well brought up, one can live even without a dowry. A modest room (gesticulating), here a little entrance-hall, there a small screen or some kind of partition, you know——