there’s only a little wine. Tell him to send up some Haut-Sauterne. (To Nastasia.) And you promised and we agreed that a general would be at the supper to-night. Where is he, I should like to know.
Nastasia: It’s not my fault, my dear!
Aplombov: Whose, then?
Nastasia: Andrew’s fault. Yesterday he was here and promised to bring a real general. (Sighs.) He can’t have found one or he’d have brought him. You don’t think we begrudge the expense? We grudge our children nothing. But, after all, what’s a general!
Aplombov: Well again, surely you knew, Mama, that this telegraph fellow, Yat, was running after Dashenka until I proposed to her? Why did you invite him? Didn’t you really know that lie’s an enemy of mine?
Nastasia: Oh, Epaminondas, what’s the matter with you? The wedding-day isn’t over yet and already you’re tiring me and Dashenka to death with your talking. What will it be like as time goes on? You’re wearisome, wearisome.
Aplombov: It isn’t nice to hear the truth? Ha, ha. There you are. But act nobly! Only one
