"What's the matter with you, Ardalyon Borisitch? Does the coffee smell of anything?" Peredonov looked morosely at her and said: "I'm smelling to see whether you haven't put poison in it!" "What's the matter with you, Ardalyon Borisitch?" said Varvara again. "God help you, how did you get that into your head?" "You mixed hemlock with it, perhaps," he grumbled. "What could I gain by poisoning you?" asked Varvara reassuringly. "Don't make a fool of yourself." Peredonov continued smelling the coffee, but eventually became reassured. "If it were poison," he said, "you'd be able to tell by the heavy smell, but you have to put your nose right into the steam!" He was silent a while and then suddenly said, spitefully and sarcastically: "The Princess!" Varvara looked distressed. "What about the Princess?" asked Varvara. "The Princess," he said, "let her give me the job first and then I'll get married--you write her that." "But you know, Ardalyon Borisitch," Varvara began in a persuasive voice, "that the Princess had made her promise on condition that I marry first. Otherwise, it is awkward for me to ask on your behalf." "Write her that we're already married," said Peredonov, rejoicing in his sudden inspiration. Varvara was for a moment disconcerted, but quickly recovered herself, and said: "What's the use of lying, the Princess might investigate. You'd better arrange the date for the marriage; it's time to begin making the dress." "What dress?" demanded Peredonov, gruffly. "Could anyone get married in these rags?" shouted Varvara. "You had better give me some money, Ardalyon Borisitch, for the dress." "Are you preparing yourself for your coffin?" asked Peredonov. "You're a beast, Ardalyon Borisitch!" Peredonov suddenly felt a desire to provoke her still further. He asked her: "Varvara, do you know where I've been?" "Where?" she inquired anxiously. "At Vershina's," he said, and burst out laughing. "Well, you were in nice company, I must say!" "I saw Marta," Peredonov continued. "She's covered with freckles," said Varvara, spitefully. "And she's got a mouth that stretches from ear to ear. You might as well sew up her mouth, like a frog's." "Anyway, she's handsomer than you," said Peredonov. "I think I'll take her and marry her." "You dare marry her," shouted Varvara, reddening and trembling with rage, "and I'll burn her eyes out with vitriol!" "I'd like to spit on you," said Peredonov, quite calmly. "Just try it!" said Varvara. "Well, I will," answered Peredonov. He rose, and with a sluggish and indifferent expression, spat in her face. "Pig!" said Varvara, as quietly as if his spitting on her had refreshed her. And she began to wipe her face with a table napkin. Peredonov was silent. Latterly he had been more brusque with her than usual. And even in the beginning he had never been particularly gentle with her. Encouraged by his silence, she repeated more loudly: "Pig! You are a pig!"