_Koch._ Ivàn Kouzmìch! My dear friend, my good fellow! If you like I’ll go down on my knees to you! _Pod._ But why? _Koch._ (_kneeling_). There! I’m on my knees before you! There now, you see, I entreat you! I’ll never forget it if you’ll do me this one favour—give in, please; please give in! _Pod._ I tell you, man, I can’t. _Koch._ (_rising angrily_). PIG!! _Pod._ Oh, you can rant if you like! _Koch._ Idiot! Blockhead! There never was such an ass! _Pod._ Rant away; I don’t care! _Koch._ Who have I taken all this trouble for? Who have I been working for? All for your good, you nincompoop! I declare I’ll just throw it all up and leave you in the lurch; what’s it to me? _Pod._ Certainly, throw it up if you like. Who asked you to give yourself so much trouble? _Koch._ But you’ll come to grief altogether—you can’t manage anything without me. If I don’t get you safely married, you’ll be fooled for the rest of your days. _Pod._ What’s that to you? _Koch._ Oh, you dunderhead! It’s you I’m trying to help! _Pod._ I don’t want your help. _Koch._ Then go to the devil! _Pod._ Very well, I will. _Koch._ That’s the right end for you! _Pod._ All right. _Koch._ Be off with you! Be off! And I wish you may break your leg! With all my heart I wish a tipsy cabman would drive his shafts down your throat! You’re an old rag, not an official! I give you my word that everything’s over between us. Don’t you dare to show your face in my house again! _Pod._ I shan’t. (_Exit._) _Koch._ (_alone_). Go to the devil—your old friend! (_Opens door and bawls after him._) Fool! (_Walks up and down in great agitation._) Now, did anybody in the world ever see such a man? The blockhead! Indeed, to speak the truth, I’m a precious fellow, too! Now just tell me, please—I appeal to you all—am I not an ass and a dolt? Why should I toil and moil for him and argue till my throat aches? What’s he to me, please? He’s no kin of mine! And what am I to him—nurse, maiden aunt, mother-in-law, sponsor? Why, why, _why_ the devil should I take all this trouble and give myself no rest? And all for him—may the foul fiend carry him away! The deuce take it all! Sometimes there’s no making out what a man does a thing for! What a scoundrel! What a sneaking, miserable cad! Oh! you pig-headed brute, you! Wouldn’t I just like to punch your nose and box your ears, and knock out your teeth and——Ah! (_Strikes at the air with his fist._) This is the provoking thing about it—he just goes off, and doesn’t care a rap; it all runs off him like water off a duck’s back; that’s what I can’t stand! He’ll just go home to his lodgings and lie on his back and smoke a pipe. Confounded sneak! There are plenty of ugly brutes to be seen, but such a hideous mug passes any man’s power to imagine; you couldn’t invent anything worse if you tried—you couldn’t, really! And he’s just mistaken. I’ll go and fetch him back on purpose, the scoundrel! I won’t let him give the slip like that; I’ll go and