"In that case, Gavríla Andréitch, I have but one judge,--the Lord God Himself, and no one else. He alone knows what sort of a man I am in this world, and whether I really do eat the bread of idleness. And as for thy reflections concerning drunkenness,--in that case also I am not to blame, but rather one of my comrades; for he led me astray, and after he had accomplished his crafty purpose, he went away; that is to say, I ...." "And thou didst remain behind, thou goose, in the street. Akh, thou dissolute man! Well, but that 's not the point,"--went on the major-domo,--"but this. The mistress ...." here he paused for a moment,--"it is the mistress's pleasure that thou shouldst marry. Hearest thou? She thinks that thou wilt grow steady when thou art married. Dost understand?" "How can I help understanding, sir?" "Well, yes. In my opinion, 't would be better to take thee firmly in hand. Well, but that 's her affair. How now? Dost thou consent?" Kapíton displayed his teeth in a grin. "Marriage is a good thing for a man, Gavríla Andréitch; and I, on my part, agree with very great pleasure." "Well, yes,"--returned Gavríla, and thought to himself:--"there 's no denying it, the man talks with exactness."--"Only, see here,"--he went on, aloud:--"an inconvenient bride has been picked out for thee." "Who is she, permit me to inquire?"... "Tatyána." "Tatyána?" And Kapíton's eyes fairly popped out of his head, and he started away from the wall. "Well, what art thou scared at?... Is n't she to thy taste?" "To my taste, forsooth, Gavríla Andréitch! The girl herself is all right; she 's a good worker, a meek lass.... But you know yourself, Gavríla Andréitch, that that forest fiend, that spectre of the steppes, is courting her, you know ...." "I know, brother, I know all,"--the major-domo interrupted him, with vexation:--"but, seest thou ...." "But, good gracious, Gavríla Andréitch! why, he 'll murder me; by Heaven, he 'll murder me, he 'll mash me like a fly! Why, he has a hand--just look for yourself what a hand he has; why, he simply has the hand of Mínin and Pozhársky.[29] For he 's deaf, he 'll kill me, and not hear that he is killing! He flourishes his huge fists exactly as though he were asleep. And there 's no possibility of stopping him. Why? Because, you know yourself, Gavríla Andréitch, he 's deaf, and stupid as an owl into the bargain. Why, he 's a sort of wild beast, a heathen idol, Gavríla Andréitch,--worse than an idol ... he 's a sort of aspen-block; why should I now suffer from him? Of course nothing matters to me now; I have endured, I have practised patience, I have smeared myself with oil like a glazed Kolómna jug,--all the same, I 'm a man, and not some sort of insignificant jug, as a matter of fact." "I know, I know; don't give a description...."