_Mitrofán._ Here is dad. SCENE 3. THE SAME AND UNCOUTH _Mrs. Uncouth._ You have been hiding from me! Now see yourself, sir, what I have come to through your indulgence! What do you think of our son’s new dress for his uncle’s betrothal? What do you think of the caftan that Tríshka has gotten up? _Uncouth_ (_timidly stammering_). A li-ittle baggy. _Mrs. Uncouth._ You are baggy yourself, you wiseacre! _Uncouth._ I thought, wifey, that you thought that way. _Mrs. Uncouth._ Are you blind yourself? _Uncouth._ My eyes see nothing by the side of yours. _Mrs. Uncouth._ A fine husband the Lord has blessed me with! He can’t even make out what is loose and what tight. _Uncouth._ I have always relied upon you in such matters, and rely even now. _Mrs. Uncouth._ You may rely also upon this, that I will not let the churls do as they please. Go right away, sir, and tell them to flog---- SCENE 4. THE SAME AND BEASTLY _Beastly._ Whom? For what? On the day of my betrothal! I beg you, sister, for the sake of the celebration, put off the flogging until to-morrow, and to-morrow, if you wish, I’ll gladly take a hand in it myself. My name is not Tarás Beastly, if I don’t make every offence a serious matter. In such things my custom is the same as yours, sister. But what has made you so angry? _Mrs. Uncouth._ Here, brother, I’ll leave it to you. Mitrofán, just come here! Is this caftan baggy? _Beastly._ No. _Uncouth._ I see now myself, wifey, that it is too tight. _Beastly._ But I don’t see that. My good fellow, the caftan is just right. _Mrs. Uncouth_ (_to Tríshka_). Get out, you beast! (_To Eremyéevna._) Go, Eremyéevna, and give the child his breakfast. I am afraid the teachers will soon be here. _Eremyéevna._ My lady, he has deigned to eat five rolls ere this. _Mrs. Uncouth._ So you are too stingy to give him the sixth, you beast? What zeal! I declare! _Eremyéevna._ I meant it for his health, my lady. I am looking out for Mitrofán Teréntevich: he has been ill all night. _Mrs. Uncouth._ Oh, Holy Virgin! What was the matter with you, darling Mitrofán? _Mitrofán._ I don’t know what, mamma. I was bent with pain ever since last night’s supper. _Beastly._ My good fellow, I guess you have had too solid a supper. _Mitrofán._ Why, uncle! I have eaten hardly anything. _Uncouth._ If I remember rightly, my dear, you did have something. _Mitrofán._ Not much of anything: some three slices of salt bacon, and five or six pies, I do not remember which. _Eremyéevna._ He kept on begging for something to drink all night long. He deigned to empty a pitcher of kvas. _Mitrofán._ And even now I am walking around distracted. All kinds of stuff passed before my eyes all night long. _Mrs. Uncouth._ What kind of stuff, darling Mitrofán? _Mitrofán._ At times you, mamma, at others--dad. _Mrs. Uncouth._ How so? _Mitrofán._ No sooner did I close my eyes, than I saw you, mamma, drubbing dad. _Uncouth_ (_aside_). It is my misfortune, the dream has come to pass!