Koch. Prefers indeed! She’s simply off her head about you. If you’d heard all the sweet names she gave you—why, she’s over head and ears in love!
Pod. (sniggering contentedly). And you know, really, when a woman likes, she can say such words to you as no man would ever think of—“piggykin-snout,” “my own little cockroach,” “blackie.”...
Koch. Oh, that’s nothing! Once you’re married you’ll find out before two months are over what words a woman knows how to use—enough to melt you all away, my lad!
Pod. (laughing). Really?
Koch. Word of honour! Look here, though, we must get to business. Lay your heart bare before her this very minute, and ask for her hand.
Pod. This very minute! My dear fellow, how can you!
Koch. This minute, certainly; and here she comes. (Enter Agàfia.) Madam, I have brought to your feet the mortal whom you see. There never was a man so desperately in love—poor fellow, I wouldn’t wish an enemy to be in such a state....
Pod. (nudging his arm; softly). I say, old fellow, don’t lay it on too thick....
Koch. (aside to him). All right. (Aside to her.) Help him out, he’s very shy; try to be as easy as possible. Make the most of your eyebrows, or keep your eyes down and then flash them at him suddenly—you know how!—or bend your shoulder somehow and let the dog look at it! I’m sorry, though, you didn’t put on a dress with short sleeves; however, it’s no matter. (Aloud.) Well, I leave you in agreeable company. I’ll just look into your dining-room and kitchen a minute; I must make arrangements—the man I ordered the supper from will be here in a minute; perhaps the wine has come already.... Good-bye! (Aside to Podkolyòssin.) Out with it; don’t be afraid! (Exit.)
Agàfia. Will you sit down, please? (They sit down; silence.)