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he, which is the letter'd
one, he sees, like...
- Green?
- No! Speckled!
Phimka's a fool!
- Are you following me, Miss Pronia?
- Very much!
After being at finishing school
I see all in other color, too.
- She is right. We didn't scrimp
on that school. - No we didn't!
She knows all the fashions.
Come and see.
- Shall I serve that wine? I've
heated it up. - Get lost, stupid!
- Please, please.
- Yeah.
Look at her dresses.
- Shawls!        - Ah, mammy,
isn't that mauvais ton! Pardonnez.
- Merci.
- And here... Look.
Look here. Five pairs of shoes.
See the high heels like this.
Phimka's a fool!
- This one is foreign.
- A Dutch thing.
- That's nothing.
- Phimka's a fool!
Let's go see her room,
there's more than that in there!
- Mammy, it's not too clean!
- That's nothing.
This is the room of
the young lady.
The bed of the young lady.
A noble one indeed.
A blanket. Silk one.
Quilted at the monastery.
I'm sure your gifts to your daughter
have been more generous than just...
Oh, you don't say! Take a look.
That's how much gold we've bought.
- A bracelet 75 rubles worth, earrings...
- Maman!
And here, here!
- Yeah, Miss Pronia's got a taste.
- Merci for your compli-mun.
When a man is not like a common one,
because one is this and another is that,
and when the man's mind is not for
dancing but for self-cultivating,
for resolving why he exists,
for making his ways right,
and when such a man,
being learned,
uses his learning to fly above
the clouds, and there his mind
gets higher than the highest
belfry in Kiev
and when he takes a look from there
down here at the people
they'll seem to him... seem like
smallest of things...
...like mice, I think.
Pardonnez, like rats.
Because thatta man all right!
And that who is... like... him...
also a man though ignorant, but...
But why? This is but much and much!
Yeah! Yeah!
But... no!
- Isn't he intelligent!
- Scarily.
- May I smoke here?
- To your heart's comfort.
Is there some fire here?
For I left mine at my home fireplace.
- Chimeon, fire!
- Khimka! Bring fire!
- Phimka, fire!
- Phimka, fire!
Bring fire!
- Will you? - Thanks, off smoking.
I like sniffing up much better.
- Our deacon has a finest snuff...
- Down with your snuffy deacon!
- May I have a cigarette, please.
- Here you are.
They smoke!
- What's that thing?
- Fire.
- What fire?
- Cinder from the stove.
- What for?
- You shouted for that.
- Out, get out.
- A simpleton!
There's matches in the shop.
I'll fetch some.
Pretty Polly!
Let me be that particular person
who accompanies you to the place.
Please be, moo-sieur.
And you sit here.
This is our shop.
Please, moo-sieur.
- Your cigarette is crackling.
- That's my heart on fire.
- Why is that?
- Because of love.
There's something about you,
Pronia Prokopovna, that excites me
- ...like a quick carambole!
- Ah, that's a gallant flout.
You must've so many ladies around!
Pronia Prokopovna, I'm not a man
to leave my soul just there.
- Only where your soul is.
- Ah, I wish I could read your soul.
If you could, you would see there
golden scriptural letters saying:
Pronia... Prokopovna... Serkova.
If the golden key of your heart
were in my pocket,
in the pocket of my heart's soul,
I would open it every minute to look
at that!
- Oh, how I wish it were true!
My bosom is a walloping Vesuvius!
Decide on my unfortunate destiny,
I beg your hand on my knees!
Oh my mom! I am so anxious!
Do you love me, you do? No cheating?
- We've known each other so little...
- Then you should know
that I have neved loved anyone
and never will!
- How's that?
- Except for you.
- D'you love me so much?
- I tell you: I just boil!
- How scary!
- Don't worry, I know the debonair.
Oh, I fell in love with you, too.
I agree to be your missus.
We just have to be blessed.
No, don't move. Daddy! Will you!
Svirid Petrovich Golokhvastov
is proposing me.

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