TISHKA. Do you want any vodka? PODKHALYÚZIN. Yes, I do. I'll have to treat Sysóy Psoich. [_He gives money_] Buy a bottle, but you keep the change for gingerbread. But see that you hurry, so they don't miss you here! TISHKA. I'll be home before a short-haired girl can twist her braids. Off I go, hippity-hop. SCENE III PODKHALYÚZIN _alone_ PODKHALYÚZIN. What a misfortune! Here's where a misfortune has come upon us! What's to be done now? Well, it's a bad business. Now we can't avoid declaring ourselves bankrupt. Well, suppose the boss should have something left over; but where do I come in? What shall I do with myself? Sell junk in the second-hand market! I've worked, I've worked about twenty years, and then to be sent rambling! Now, how am I going to settle this matter? Perhaps with merchandise? Here, he said to sell the notes. [_He draws them out and reads them_] It must be that it's going to be possible to profit by it. [_He walks about the room_] They say a fellow ought to know what conscience is. Well, of course he ought to; but in what sense must he understand that? Everybody has conscience where a good man is concerned; but when the man himself is cheating others, then where does your conscience come in? Samsón Sílych is a very rich merchant, and has hatched up this whole business now just to kill time, so to speak. But I'm a poor man! If I should make a little extra profit in this business--then there can't be any sin in it; because he himself is acting dishonorably, and going against the law. And why should I pity him? The course is clear; well, don't slip up on it: he follows his politics, and you look out for your interest. I'd have seen the thing through with him, but I don't feel like it. Hm!--What day-dreams will come into a man's head! Of course, Olimpiáda Samsónovna is a cultivated young lady; and it must be said, there're none on earth like her; but of course that suitor won't take her now; he'll say, "Give me money!" But where are you going to get money? And now she can't marry a nobleman because she hasn't any money. Sooner or later they'll have to marry her to a merchant. [_He walks on in silence_] I'll raise the dough, and bow to Samsón Sílych. "Samsón Sílych," says I, "I'm at an age when I must think about the continuance of posterity; and I, now, Samsón Sílych, haven't grudged my sweat and blood for your tranquillity. To be sure, now, Olimpiáda Samsónovna is a cultivated young lady; but I, Samsón Sílych, am no common trash; you can see for yourself, if you please. I have capital, and I'm a good manager in that line." Why shouldn't he give her to me? Ain't I a man? I haven't been detected in any knavery; I'm respectful to my elders. But in addition to all that, as Samsón Sílych has mortgaged his house and shops to me, I can frighten him with the mortgage. Knowing as I do the disposition of Samsón Sílych to be what it is, that may very easily happen. This is the way with his sort: