_Zhev._ (_aside_). He said he was going to praise me, and instead of that he began abusing me! Very queer man! (_Aloud._) Don’t believe him, madam. _Agàfia._ Excuse me, I am not well; my head aches. (_Going._) _Zhev._ It cannot be; there must be something about me that displeases you. (_Points to his head._) I hope you don’t mind my having a little bald place here; it’s nothing, really; it’s from fever; the hair will soon grow again. _Agàfia._ It is all the same to me whether it grows or not. _Zhev._ Madam! indeed.... If I were to put on a black coat, my complexion would be much lighter. _Agàfia._ So much the better for you. Good-afternoon. (_Exit._) _Zhev._ (_Alone; calls after her._) Madam! tell me the reason! Say why! What is your objection? Is there any defect in me?... She’s gone! It is a most extraordinary thing! This is the seventeenth time it has happened to me; and always just in the same way. At first everything goes all right; and then, when the critical moment comes, they always refuse me. (_Walks up and down the room, meditating._) Yes, I believe this is really the seventeenth girl. And what in the world is it that she wants? I should like to know why ... on what grounds.... (_Meditates._) It’s mysterious, very mysterious! Now, if there were anything to object to in me! (_Inspecting himself._) I think nobody can say that of me, thank Heaven! It’s very strange! I wonder if I hadn’t better go home, and hunt about in my trunk. I used to have some verses there that no woman could stand against.... There really is no understanding it! Everything seemed to be going all right.... I see I shall have to alter my tack. It’s a pity; it really is a pity. (_Exit._) (_Enter_ PODKOLYÒSSIN _and_ KOCHKARYÒV, _looking behind them_.) _Koch._ He didn’t see us. Did you notice what a long face he went out with? _Pod._ She surely hasn’t refused him as well as the others! _Koch._ Point blank. _Pod._ It must be dreadfully embarrassing to be refused! _Koch._ I should think so! _Pod._ I still can’t believe she really said straight out that she prefers me to all the others. _Koch._ Prefers indeed! She’s simply off her head about you. If you’d heard all the sweet names she gave you—why, she’s over head and ears in love! _Pod._ (_sniggering contentedly_). And you know, really, when a woman likes, she can say such words to you as no man would ever think of—“piggykin-snout,” “my own little cockroach,” “blackie.”... _Koch._ Oh, that’s nothing! Once you’re married you’ll find out before two months are over what words a woman knows how to use—enough to melt you all away, my lad! _Pod._ (_laughing_). Really? _Koch._ Word of honour! Look here, though, we must get to business. Lay your heart bare before her this very minute, and ask for her hand. _Pod._ This very minute! My dear fellow, how can you!