_Agàfia._ Really, it is a very difficult thing to have to choose. If there were only one or two of them—but to choose out of four!... Nikanòr Ivànovich is very nice-looking, though he’s rather thin. Ivàn Kouzmìch is not bad-looking either. Indeed, to say the truth, Ivàn Pàvlovich is a very fine-looking man, too, although he’s fat. I should just like to know what I am to do! Then Baltazàr Baltazàrovich has great merits, too. Indeed, it’s so difficult to decide that I simply don’t know what to do. If one could put Nikanòr Ivànovich’s lips on to Ivàn Kouzmìch’s nose, and then take a little of Baltazàr Baltazàrovich’s easy way, and just a bit of Ivàn Pàvlovich’s stoutness—I’d make up my mind at once; but now one keeps on thinking and thinking ... really my head has begun to ache! I think the best thing would be to cast lots. It must be as God wills—whoever comes out shall be my husband. I’ll write all their names on bits of paper, and roll them up tight, and then, what must be, will be. (_Goes up to table, takes out of a drawer paper and scissors, cuts little slips, writes, and rolls them up while speaking._) A girl’s position is a very trying one, especially if she’s in love. No man can ever enter into that; indeed, they don’t care to understand it. There! now they’re all ready! I’ve only got to put them in my reticule, shut my eyes tight, and what must be will be. (_Places slips in reticule, and shuffles them with her hand._) I’m afraid.... Oh! if God willed that Nikanòr Ivànovich should come out! No; why? Better Ivan Kouzmìch! They’re all so nice.... No, no; I won’t decide.... I’ll take whichever one comes out. (_Thrusts hand into reticule, and takes out all together._) Oh! oh! they’ve all come out! And my heart beats so! No; it won’t do; I must have one! (_Replaces slips in reticule, and shuffles again._ KOCHKARYÒV _enters softly and stands behind her_.) Oh! if it were Baltazàr.... No; I mean Nikanòr Ivànovich.... No, no; I won’t think; it’s as fate decides! _Koch._ Take Ivàn Kouzmìch; he’s the best. _Agàfia._ Ah! (_Screams, and hides face with both hands, not daring to look round._) _Koch._ Why do you start so? Don’t be afraid, it’s I; you’d much better take Ivàn Kouzmìch. _Agàfia._ Oh! I’m ashamed! You’ve been listening. _Koch._ Never mind; never mind; I’m like one of your own family, you know; you needn’t be bashful with me. Come now, let me see your pretty face. _Agàfia_ (_half uncovering her face_). Indeed I’m ashamed! _Koch._ There now! Take Ivàn Kouzmìch. _Agàfia._ Oh! (_Screams, and hides face again._) _Koch._ Really, he’s a splendid fellow; he manages that Department wonderfully.... In fact he’s a marvellous fellow! _Agàfia_ (_gradually uncovering her face_). Well, but what about the other one, Nikanòr Ivànovich? He’s very nice, too. _Koch._ Oh! he’s not fit to be mentioned in the same breath with Ivàn Kouzmìch. _Agàfia._ Why not?