_Antìp._ How are you to do it? Well, of course, I don’t mean that you should tie him hand and foot. Just hunt up a girl with a nice little dowry, you know; and I doubt he won’t kick at it. Why should any one mind marrying? It’s nothing but a pleasure! _Shiryàlov_, Why, who do you think would have him? No one but a mad woman would marry such a rake! _Antìp._ You think the girls care for that? Bless my soul, that’s nothing! Why man, young bachelors are always like that. Do you remember what I was like as a bachelor? I used to drink, and sow my wild oats, and be up to all sorts of larks. My poor father just gave me up for good and all. You talk about theatres! We didn’t go to theatres, we used to be off to the dancing saloons, or to the gipsies at Grouzìna; and go on spree, drinking, for a fortnight at a time. Why, the factory hands at Preobrazhènskoye nearly murdered me over a wench; all Moscow knew about it. None the less I got Matryòna Sàvishna. All that’s stuff and nonsense; that doesn’t matter. _Shiryàlov._ Ah! it’s all very well to say, “Marry him, and find a girl with a dowry.” Why, my dear fellow, now that he hasn’t got any money, he carries on like mad; but if once he were to get money into his hands, heaven knows what he’d do—he’d play old Harry with everything. _Antìp._ He’d set the money in circulation. (_Laughs._) _Shiryàlov._ No, sir; the thing I think of doing is to put a notice in the newspapers. Like this you know: “I entrust no commissions to my son; and have no intention of paying his debts in future.” Then I’ll sign it: “Manufacturer-Counsellor-Merchant-Temporarily-of-the-First-Moscow-Guild, Paramòn, son of Ferapònt Shiryàlov.” _Antìp._ Yes; that’s not a bad idea. _Shiryàlov._ And another thing I think of doing to punish him, is to get married myself and cut him out. _Antìp._ Yes, why not? Marriage is a good thing. _Shiryàlov._ It’s just possible, you know, that the good Lord will hear my prayers and send me a son and heir to comfort my old age. I’ll leave everything to him. The other is like a stranger to me; and my heart turns away from him. Only think of it; if I were to leave the fortune to him, what would he do? He’d just squander my money, the sweat of my brow, among his tailors and his actress wenches! _Antìp._ Well then, marry; there’s no harm in that. Have you got any girl in particular in your eye? _Shiryàlov._ No, friend; that’s just my trouble. _Antìp._ Would you like me to find you one? Let’s have a drink first of all. (_They drink._) _Shiryàlov._ Are you in earnest? _Antìp._ Quite. Why shouldn’t I find you one? _Shiryàlov_ (_looks keenly at him_). You’re fooling me! _Antìp._ What should I fool you for? I haven’t got far to look, man; I’ve got a marriageable sister. _Shiryàlov._ What did you say? Eh-h-h! _Antìp._ Didn’t that occur to you? Well, you are a simple minded fellow! _Shiryàlov._ My dear lad, of course I thought of it. (_Lowers his eyes._) But I doubt she wouldn’t care to have me.