The door opens and a figure appears in a shag cloak, with unshaven beard, swollen lip, and a bandage over his cheek. Behind him appear a whole line of others. OSIP. Go away, go away! What are you crowding in here for? He puts his hands against the stomach of the first one, and goes out through the door, pushing him and banging the door behind. SCENE XII Khlestakov and Marya Antonovna. MARYA. Oh! KHLESTAKOV. What frightened you so, mademoiselle? MARYA. I wasn't frightened. KHLESTAKOV [showing off]. Please, miss. It's a great pleasure to me that you took me for a man who--May I venture to ask you where you were going? MARYA. I really wasn't going anywhere. KHLESTAKOV. But why weren't you going anywhere? MARYA. I was wondering whether mamma was here. KHLESTAKOV. No. I'd like to know why you weren't going anywhere. MARYA. I should have been in your way. You were occupied with important matters. KHLESTAKOV [showing off]. Your eyes are better than important matters. You cannot possibly disturb me. No, indeed, by no means. On the contrary, you afford me great pleasure. MARYA. You speak like a man from the capital. KHLESTAKOV. For such a beautiful lady as you. May I give myself the pleasure of offering you a chair? But no, you should have, not a chair, but a throne. MARYA. I really don't know--I really must go [She sits down.] KHLESTAKOV. What a beautiful scarf that is. MARYA. You are making fun of me. You're only ridiculing the provincials. KHLESTAKOV. Oh, mademoiselle, how I long to be your scarf, so that I might embrace your lily neck. MARYA. I haven't the least idea what you are talking about--scarf!--Peculiar weather today, isn't it? KHLESTAKOV. Your lips, mademoiselle, are better than any weather. MARYA. You are just saying that--I should like to ask you--I'd rather you would write some verses in my album for a souvenir. You must know very many. KHLESTAKOV. Anything you desire, mademoiselle. Ask! What verses will you have? MARYA. Any at all. Pretty, new verses. KHLESTAKOV. Oh, what are verses! I know a lot of them. MARYA. Well, tell me. What verses will you write for me? KHLESTAKOV. What's the use? I know them anyway. MARYA. I love them so. KHLESTAKOV. I have lots of them--of every sort. If you like, for example, I'll give you this: "Oh, thou, mortal man, who in thy anguish murmurest against God--" and others. I can't remember them now. Besides, it's all bosh. I'd rather offer you my love instead, which ever since your first glance--[Moves his chair nearer.] MARYA. Love? I don't understand love. I never knew what love is. [Moves her chair away.] KHLESTAKOV. Why do you move your chair away? It is better for us to sit near each other. MARYA [moving away]. Why near? It's all the same if it's far away. KHLESTAKOV [moving nearer]. Why far? It's all the same if it's near. MARYA [moving away]. But what for?