RNOV. In that case I stay here and shall wait until I get it. [Sits
down] You're going to pay me the day after to-morrow? Very well! I'll
stay here until the day after to-morrow. I'll sit here all the time....
[Jumps up] I ask you: Have I got to pay the interest to-morrow, or
haven't I? Or do you think I'm doing this for a joke?

POPOVA. Please don't shout! This isn't a stable!

SMIRNOV. I wasn't asking you about a stable, but whether I'd got my
interest to pay to-morrow or not?

POPOVA. You don't know how to behave before women!

SMIRNOV. No, I do know how to behave before women!

POPOVA. No, you don't! You're a rude, ill-bred man! Decent people don't
talk to a woman like that!

SMIRNOV. What a business! How do you want me to talk to you? In French,
or what? [Loses his temper and lisps] _Madame, je vous prie_.... How
happy I am that you don't pay me.... Ah, pardon. I have disturbed you!
Such lovely weather to-day! And how well you look in mourning! [Bows.]

POPOVA. That's silly and rude.

SMIRNOV. [Teasing her] Silly and rude! I don't know how to behave before
women! Madam, in my time I've seen more women than you've seen sparrows!
Three times I've fought duels on account of women. I've refused twelve
women, and nine have refused me! Yes! There was a time when I played the
fool, scented myself, used honeyed words, wore jewellery, made beautiful
bows. I used to love, to suffer, to sigh at the moon, to get sour, to
thaw, to freeze.... I used to love passionately, madly, every blessed
way, devil take me; I used to chatter like a magpie about emancipation,
and wasted half my wealth on tender feelings, but now--you must excuse
me! You won't get round me like that now! I've had enough! Black eyes,
passionate eyes, ruby lips, dimpled cheeks, the moon, whispers, timid
breathing--I wouldn't give a brass farthing for the lot, madam! Present
company always excepted, all women, great or little, are insincere,
crooked, backbiters, envious, liars to the marrow of their bones, vain,
trivial, merciless, unreasonable, and, as far as this is concerned [taps
his forehead] excuse my outspokenness, a sparrow can give ten points to
any philosopher in petticoats you like to name! You look at one of
these poetic creatures: all muslin, an ethereal demi-goddess, you have a
million transports of joy, and you look into her soul--and see a common
crocodile! [He grips the back of a chair; the chair creaks and breaks]
But the most disgusting