'Nonsense, nonsense, old man: I won't let you go.'
'My wife will be cross, really; now you can get into the gentleman's chaise.'
'No, no, no! Don't you think it.'
The fair man was one of those people in whose character a certain obstinacy is at first sight apparent. Before you have time to open your lips they are ready to begin arguing, and it seems as though they will never agree to what is openly opposed to their way of thinking, that they will never call what is foolish sensible, and above all will never dance to another man's piping. But it always ends in their displaying a weakness of will, in their agreeing to what they have denied, calling what is foolish sensible and dancing in fine style to another man's piping—in fact they begin well and end badly.
'Nonsense,' said Nozdryov in reply to some protest on the part of the fair man; then he put the latter's cap on his head and—the fair man followed them.
'For the drop of vodka, sir, you have not paid,' said the old woman.
'Oh, all right, all right, my good woman. I say, dear boy! pay it for me, please, I haven't a farthing in my pocket.'
'How much do you want?' asked his brother-in-law.
'Why, twenty kopecks, sir,' said the old woman.
'Nonsense, nonsense, give her half. It's quite enough for her.'
