KULIGIN. If I were about my own business, I should be to blame certainly. But I am speaking in the public interest, your worship. And it's no great matter spending about a pound on a public object! More than that would not be needed, sir. DIKOY. I daresay you'd like to pocket the money; who knows anything of you? KULIGIN. Seeing that I want to give my services for nothing, your worship, how could I pocket anything? And everyone knows me here; no one can say any harm of me. DIKOY. They may know you, for all I care, but I don't want to know you. KULIGIN. Why insult an honest man, sir? DIKOY. Am I to account to you for what I say or do? Let me tell you I allow no one to criticise my actions--no, not folks of far more consequence than you. I shall think of you as I choose to think of you. Others may say you're an honest man, but I look upon you as a brigand, and that's all about it. You seem anxious to hear my opinion, so here it is! I say you're a brigand, and nothing else! Do you want to have the law of me, hey? Very well then, let me tell you you're a worm. If I choose, I spare you; if I choose, I can trample you under foot! KULIGIN. So be it, Saviol Prokofitch! I am only a poor man, sir, it costs little to be rude to me. But let me remind you, your honour, virtue is honourable even in rags! DIKOY. None of your insolence now! Mind that! KULIGIN. I am not being insolent to you in any way, sir, and I merely addressed you because I thought you might have a mind to do something for the town sometime. You have a great deal of power, your worship, if only you had the wish to do some good. Now, for instance, we've storms so often, and yet we don't put up lightning conductors. DIKOY (_haughtily_). It's all vanity! KULIGIN. How can it be vanity when experiments have been made. DIKOY. What sort of lightning conductors are you talking about? KULIGIN. Steel ones. DIKOY (_wrathfully_). Well, and what then? KULIGIN. Steel rods. DIKOY (_getting more and more furious_). I hear they're steel rods, you viper, but what of it? Granted they're steel rods! Well, what of it? KULIGIN. Nothing. DIKOY. And what is the cause of a storm to your notions, hey? Come, speak up! KULIGIN. Electricity. DIKOY (_stamping_). 'Lectricity he says! Ah, a brigand you are and no mistake! a storm is sent as a chastisement to make us feel our sins, and you want with rods and tackle of one sort and another, God forgive you, to ward it off! What, are you a Tartar or what? Are you a Tartar? Speak up! A Tartar, hey? KULIGIN. Saviol Prokofitch, your honour, Derzhavin said: In body, I languish in the dust, In mind, I command the tempest. DIKOY. For such words you ought to be led off to the police captain, he'd give it to you! Just listen, worthy citizens, what the fellow is saying! KULIGIN. There's no help for it, I must submit! But when I have made my fortune, then you'll see how I'll talk! [_With a wave of his hand goes out._