_Zhev._ Thank you, no; I must ask you not to marry me to another woman. If you will be so kind, I should prefer this one. _Koch._ As you like. I’ll arrange it for you, only with one condition—you musn’t interfere at all; you musn’t even let the young lady see you; I’ll manage it all without you. _Zhev._ I don’t quite understand. How “without me?” Of course the young lady must see me. _Koch._ Not at all; not at all! Just go home and wait; it’ll all be done by this evening. _Zhev._ (_rubbing his hands_). That’ll be splendid! That’ll be capital! Don’t you think I ought to have my certificate, though—my list of service? Perhaps the young lady would like to see it; I’ll fetch it this minute. _Koch._ You needn’t fetch anything; only go home; I’ll let you know this very day. (_Exit_ ZHEVÀKIN.) Yes; and don’t you wish you may get it!... I wonder why on earth Podkolyòssin doesn’t come! It’s very strange! He surely can’t be setting his strap to rights all this time. I’d almost better run and find him. (_Enter_ AGÀFIA TIKHÒNOVNA.) _Agàfia_ (_looking around_). Have they all gone? Is there no one here? _Koch._ There’s no one here; they’ve all gone. _Agàfia._ Oh! if you knew how I shook and trembled! I never felt like that in my life before. But what a dreadful man that Yaìchnitza is! What a tyrant he would be to his wife! I keep fancying every minute that he’s coming back! _Koch._ Oh, no! he won’t come back. I’ll lay my head on it that neither of the two will show his nose here again. _Agàfia._ And the third? _Koch._ What third? _Zhev._ (_Poking his head in at the door; aside_). I’m simply wild to know what she’ll say about me with that little rosebud of a mouth! _Agàfia._ I mean Baltazàr Baltazàrovich. _Zhev._ (_aside_). Ah! that’s it! that’s it! (_Rubs his hands._) _Koch._ Oh! that creature! I was wondering who you could be talking about. My dear lady, the man’s a complete idiot—Heaven knows what! _Zhev._ (_aside_). What’s that? That I confess I don’t understand. _Agàfia._ Do you know, he seems to me a very nice person? _Koch._ A drunkard. _Zhev._ (_aside_). I really don’t understand this! _Agàfia._ You don’t mean to say he’s a drunkard too? _Koch._ Oh! dear me! yes; a thoroughpaced scoundrel. _Zhev._ (_aloud_). Allow me; _that_ I did not ask you to say. If you had said something to my advantage, or in my praise—that would be another matter; but to speak of me in such a manner, to use such words—you may find some one else who will consent, but not your humble servant. _Koch._ (_aside_). Whatever has brought him back again? (_Softly to_ AGÀFIA.) Look! look! he can hardly stand on his feet. He’s as drunk as a lord; and it’s the same thing every day. Send him about his business and make an end of the whole affair. (_Aside._) Podkolyòssin doesn’t come, and doesn’t come, the scoundrel! Oh! I’ll be even with him! (_Exit._)