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Come in," an equally coarse woman's voice responded from the adjoining room. "Is that Mashurina?" asked the newcomer. "Yes, it is I. Are you Ostrodumov? "Pemien Ostrodumov," he replied, carefully removing his goloshes, and hanging his shabby coat on a nail, he went into the room from whence issued the woman's voice.
"That is the usual mistake people make about me, my dear Pemien! In the first place, I am not always laughing, and even if I were, that is no reason why you should not trust me. In the second, I have been flattered with your confidence on more than one occasion before now, a convincing proof of my trustworthiness. I am an honest man, my dear Pemien."
"And I, Pemien," Ostrodumov added in his bass voice. "How very instructive! Then tell me, Oh Fiekla! and you, Oh Pemien! why you are so unfriendly, so persistently unfriendly to me when I " "Mashurina thinks," Ostrodumov interrupted him, "and not only Mashurina, that you are not to be depended upon, because you always laugh at everything." Paklin turned round on his heels.
"A long way from here." "And where is Ostrodumov? Is he with you?" "No, but he's quite near. Got stuck on the way. He'll be here when he's wanted. Pemien can look after himself. There is no need to worry about him." "How did you get here?" "In a cart of course. How else could I have come? Give me another match, please." Solomin gave her a light. "Vassily Fedotitch!"
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