_Vadím._ Ruler! Rúrik! What nation has he saved? Having come to our aid, what has he done for us? He has paid a debt! However his benefactions may have seemed to you to deserve repayment, were you compelled to pay with your liberty, and make your enslavement a gift to merit? O low souls that fall down before fate and are inveigled by the stream of chance,--oh, if you had known how to respect yourselves! Blessed would Rúrik be, if he had been able, though clad in porphyry, to become equal to our citizens. Renowned by his high title among all kings, he would have been sufficiently rewarded by this distinction. Tell me: did Gostomýsl, aware of his heroic deeds, enjoin fetters to you, to end your woes, or was his will the freedom of the citizens? Or did he turn you over to him, like those beasts whom anyone who lists may bridle? ODD PEOPLE ACT II., SCENE 2. MRS. INDOLENT, ÚLINKA, WEATHERVANE _Weathervane._ Ma charmante Úlinka! Oh, how beautiful you are! Tous ces gens, how stupid, how dishonest, and they will not see in your eyes what I see. _Úlinka._ And what do you see? _Weathervane._ Friponne! As if you did not know yourself that it is not possible to hate you, that you are fairer than heaven! (_Úlinka courtesies._) You courtesy! How elegant! What a consolation to have such a daughter! (_To Mrs. Indolent._) Is it not so, Maman? _Mrs. Indolent._ I must confess that her education is what her birth demands, and as she has all liberty in her movements, as behooves a daughter born of me, she is, sir, removed from all coarseness; and keeping herself aloof from everything, as our dignity demands, she knows neither how to sew nor weave, leaving such occupations to common people; she dances like a peacock, sings like a nightingale, and, knowing French like a Frenchwoman, she would like to forget her Russian; she retires at three o’clock, rises at twelve, and passes two hours at her toilet. _Weathervane._ Bravo, madam! That’s the way it ought to be before the world and men,--ah, how do you call it? pour les gens du haut ton. You must pardon me a little, madam, if I too, duly cautious of my honour, regard our language to be nothing but a jargon, in which it is not possible properly to express your thoughts, and where you have to wear yourself out mercilessly in the attempt of finding your ideas. Only out of compulsion do I speak that language to my lackey, coachman and with all common people, where there is no need to exert yourself in thinking. But with our distinguished people it would be to appear a fool, not to speak French to them. Pray tell me, how could I fall in love? Je brûle, je languis! How could I express that in Russian to charming Úlinka: I faint, I burn,--fi donc! I must assume that you speak French, and so does your époux.... _Mrs. Indolent_ (_perplexed_). Of course, of course! Comment vous portez-vous? _Weathervane._ Bravo, madam! _Mrs. Indolent._ I am now a little out of practice, but formerly I never prattled in Russian.