Drabkin’s heart sank within him. To descend to mere matchmaking! Five hundred roubles! Suddenly before his eyes appeared the vision of Chashke. “The people I’m talking about are very anxious to have you,” his friend was saying. “A perfect doll of a girl! And clever at her trade,—one out of a thousand.... Hush, she’s a pocketbook maker, just like yourself.” Drabkin was still unable to realise what it was all about, and the image of Chashke continued to hover before his eyes. “They’re very anxious to have you,” repeated his friend. “It seems to me that the girl is head over heels in love with you. She knows you for a long time. I believe she used to work with you. Well, are you willing? Just say the word and one, two,—it’s done. I won’t ask you for any marriage-broker’s fee. I’ll ask only the honour of leading you under the canopy. Well?” “A match?” was all Drabkin could stammer. “I’ll not listen to the idea!...” “What? Don’t you ever intend to marry?” interrupted the other, with scorn. “Are you going to enter a monastery? Don’t be a fool, and listen to good advice. Five hundred roubles dowry, and you become a boss, with a wife that’ll be a true help to you. Don’t waste a moment thinking it over!... As true as I’m a Jew, you’ll just _have_ to marry that girl!” His friend was getting excited. He divulged the name of the prospective father-in-law,—Grunim the glazier—and that of the girl—Chyenke, a maiden of golden virtues, so beautiful that Drabkin, compared with her, would have to hide in the oven,—and smart? A question! Just like Bileam! As decent as God has ordained,—a virtuous child, “so may I have good fortune!” His friend wrought with might and main,—argued, vociferated, screamed, bellowed, thundered,—and finally Drabkin had to adjourn with him to a tavern and treat to drinks. And after the first three glasses the friend ran off to the girl’s father. “You’ll thank me as long as you live!” was his farewell to Drabkin. Left to himself, Drabkin began to feel that the match was really a windfall. Five hundred roubles! He—with five hundred roubles! He would work miracles, overturn worlds, he—with five hundred roubles!... And he really knew her. His friend had not told many lies. She wasn’t such a marvel, but at the same time girls like her were not to be found at every turn. Oh yes,—he recalled her perfectly. She was a trifle taller than Chashke,—a bit plumper, too, he imagined.... A blonde.... She must be quite a lively article, too ... a fiery creature.... Five hundred roubles! Why, to him that meant ... unlimited possibilities!... Five hundred roubles.... Imagine, he would.... H’m!... He couldn’t recall exactly, but it seemed to him that she was very skilful at her work. Now wait,—at whose place was it that she and he had worked together?