_AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA comes in with LÍPOCHKA, who is very much dressed up._ AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. Get along, get along, my darling; don't catch yourself on the sides of the doorway. Just look, Samsón Sílych, my dear lord and master, and admire how I've rigged up our daughter! Phew! go away! What a peony-rose she is now! [_To her_] Ah, you little angel, you princess, you little cherub, you! [_To him_] Well, Samsón Sílych, isn't it all right? Only she ought to ride in a six-horse carriage. BOLSHÓV. She'll go in a two-horse carriage--she's no highflying proprietress. AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. To be sure, she's no general's daughter, but, all the same, she's a beauty! Well, pet the child a little; what are you growling like a bear for? BOLSHÓV. Well, how do you want me to pet her? Shall I lick her hands, or bow down to her feet? Fine circus, I must say! I've seen something more elegant than that. AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. But what have you seen? No matter what; but this is your daughter, your own child, you man of stone! BOLSHÓV. What if she is my daughter? Thank God she has shoes, dresses, and is well fed--what more does she want? AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. What more! Look here, Samsón Sílych, have you gone out of your head? Well fed! What if she is well fed! According to the Christian law we should feed everybody; people look after strangers, to say nothing of their own folks. Why, it's a sin to say that, when people can hear you. Anyhow, she's your own child! BOLSHÓV. I know she's my own child--but what more does she want? What are you telling me all these yarns for? You don't have to put her in a picture-frame! I know I'm her father. AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. Then, my dear, if you're her father, then don't act like a stepfather! It's high time, it seems to me, that you came to your senses. You'll soon have to part with her, and you don't grind out one kind word; you ought, for her good, to give her a bit of good advice. You haven't a single fatherly way about you! BOLSHÓV. No, and what a pity; must be God made me that way. AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. God made you that way! What's the matter with you? It seems to me God made her, too, didn't he? She's not an animal, Lord forgive me for speaking so!--but ask her something! BOLSHÓV. What shall I ask her? A goose is no playmate for a pig; do what you please. AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. We won't ask you when it comes to the point; meantime, say something. A man, a total stranger, is coming--no matter how much you try, a man is not a woman--he's coming for his first visit, when we've never seen him before. BOLSHÓV. I said, stop it! AGRAFÉNA KONDRÁTYEVNA. What a father you are! And yet you call yourself one! Ah, my poor abandoned little girl, you're just like a little orphan with drooping head! He turns away from you, and won't recognize you! Sit down, Lipochka; sit down, little soul, my charming little darling! [_She makes her sit down._ LÍPOCHKA. Oh, stop it, mamma! You've mussed me all up!