There was a mob round the windows of Strigal and Co.
The assistants in Strigal and Co.'s store trod on each other's toes.
Strigal and Co.'s workshop was flooded with orders.
Strigal and Co. attain renown.
Strigal and Co. extend their workshops.
Strigal and Co. are rich.
Strigal and Co. buy up houses.
Strigal and Co. are magnanimous; they feed Saranin right royally, they do not stint his wife for money.
Aglaya is already receiving a thousand a month.
More income still has fallen to Aglaya's share.
And acquaintances.
And lovers.
And brilliants.
And carriages.
And a mansion.
Aglaya is merry and contented. She has grown still larger. She wears high-heeled shoes. She selects hats of gigantic proportions.
When she visits her husband, she fondles him and feeds him from her hand like a bird. Saranin in a stumpy-tailed dress-suit trots about with tiny steps on the table in front of her and squeaks something. His voice is as penetrating as the squeak of a gnat. But the words are not audible.
