rich girl to marry me for it! [Anna opens the window and looks down] “Let me make a match between you and Martha,” says he. Who is this Martha? It must be that Balabalkina—Babakalkina woman, the one that looks like a laundress.
Anna. Is that you, Count?
Shabelski. What do you want?
Anna laughs.
Shabelski. [With a Jewish accent] Vy do you laugh?
Anna. I was thinking of something you said at dinner, do you remember? How was it—a forgiven thief, a doctored horse———
Shabelski. A forgiven thief, a doctored horse, and a Christianised Jew are all worth the same price.
Anna. [Laughing] You can’t even repeat the simplest saying without ill-nature. You are a most malicious old man. [Seriously] Seriously, Count. you are extremely disagreeable, and very tiresome and painful to live with. You are always grumbling and growling, and everybody to you is a blackguard and a scoundrel. Tell me honestly, Count, have you ever spoken well of any one?
Shabelski. Is this an inquisition?
Anna. We have lived under this same roof now for five years, and I have never heard you speak kindly of people, or without bitterness and derision. What harm has the world done to you? Is it possible that you consider yourself better than any one else?
Shabelski. Not at all. I think we are all of us scoundrels and hypocrites. I myself am a degraded old man, and as useless as a cast-off shoe. I abuse myself as much as any one else. I was rich once, and free, and happy at times, but now I am a dependent, an object of charity, a joke to the world. When I am at last exasperated and defy them, they
