FOMÍNISHNA _comes down the stairs._ FOMÍNISHNA. You see Samsón Sílych has come, and seems to be tipsy. TISHKA. Phew! We're goners! FOMÍNISHNA. Run for Lázar, Tishka; there's a dear; run quick! AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. [_Appearing at the head of the stairs_] What's this, Fomínishna dear, where's he bound for? FOMÍNISHNA. This way, I guess, my dear! Ah, I'll close the doors, good heavens, I'll close them; let him go up-stairs, but you stay here, my dear. _A knock at the door, and the voice of_ SAMSÓN SÍLYCH: "Hey! open up; who's there?" AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA _disappears_. FOMÍNISHNA. Come in, honey, come in and go to sleep; God bless you! BOLSHÓV. [_Behind the door_] What's the matter with you, you old cripple; have you lost your wits? FOMÍNISHNA. Ah, my dear boy! Ah, I'm a blind old granny. But, you see, I was fool enough, somehow, to think you'd come home tipsy. Forgive me, I've gotten deaf in my old age. SAMSÓN SÍLYCH _comes in_. SCENE IX FOMÍNISHNA _and_ BOLSHÓV BOLSHÓV. Has that shyster been cooking up any deviltry here? FOMÍNISHNA. They've cooked cabbage soup with corned beef, and roast goose. BOLSHÓV. Are you gone daft, you old fool? FOMÍNISHNA. No, dear! I gave the order to the cook myself! BOLSHÓV. Get out! [_He sits down_. FOMÍNISHNA _goes to the door_; PODKHALYÚZIN _and_ TISHKA _come in_. FOMÍNISHNA. [_Returning_] Ah, I'm a fool, a fool! Don't punish me for my bad memory. The cold roast sucking pig had entirely jumped out of my mind. SCENE X PODKHALYÚZIN, BOLSHÓV, _and_ TISHKA BOLSHÓV. Go to the pigs yourself! [FOMÍNISHNA _goes out. To_ TISHKA] What are you gaping at? Haven't you anything to do? PODKHALYÚZIN. [_To_ TISHKA] You've been spoken to, haven't you? TISHKA _goes out_. BOLSHÓV. Has the shyster been here? PODKHALYÚZIN. He has, sir. BOLSHÓV. Did you talk with him? PODKHALYÚZIN. Why, Samsón Sílych? Does he have any feeling? Isn't his soul naturally nothing but ink, sir? He just thrums on one string--to declare yourself bankrupt. BOLSHÓV. If I must declare myself bankrupt, I'll do it, and there's an end to it. PODKHALYÚZIN. Ah, Samsón Sílych, what's that you're saying! BOLSHÓV. What! pay out money? Where did you get that notion? I will rather burn everything in the fire, before I'll give them a kopek. Transfer the merchandise, sell the notes, let 'em pilfer, let anybody steal who wants to; but I'm not going to pay a kopek. PODKHALYÚZIN. Pardon me, Samsón Sílych, we had the business all going fine; and now everything has to be thrown into confusion. BOLSHÓV. What affair was it of yours? It ain't yours. You just work hard--I'll not forget you.