ur Honor"; and if anybody is not satisfied,
I'll give him something to be dissatisfied about afterwards.--Ah, I'm
a sinner, a terrible sinner. [Takes the hat-box, instead of his hat.]
Heaven only grant that I may soon get this matter over and done with;
then I'll donate a candle such as has never been offered before. I'll
levy a hundred pounds of wax from every damned merchant. Oh my, oh my!
Come, let's go, Piotr Ivanovich. [Tries to put the hat-box on his head
instead of his hat.]

CAPTAIN. Anton Antonovich, that's the hat-box, not your hat.

GOVERNOR [throwing the box down]. If it's the hat-box, it's the hat-box,
the deuce take it!--And if he asks why the church at the hospital for
which the money was appropriated five years ago has not been built,
don't let them forget to say that the building was begun but was
destroyed by fire. I sent in a report about it, you know. Some blamed
fool might forget and let out that the building was never even begun.
And tell Derzhimorda not to be so free with his fists. Guilty
or innocent, he makes them all see stars in the cause of public
order.--Come on, come on, Dobchinsky. [Goes out and returns.] And don't
let the soldiers appear on the streets with nothing on. That rotten
garrison wear their coats directly over their undershirts.

All go out.

SCENE VI

Anna Andreyevna and Marya Antonovna rush in on the stage.

ANNA. Where are they? Where are they? Oh, my God! [opening the door.]
Husband! Antosha! Anton! [hurriedly, to Marya.] It's all your fault.
Dawdling! Dawdling!--"I want a pin--I want a scarf." [Runs to the window
and calls.] Anton, where are you going? Where are you going? What! He
has come? The Inspector? He has a moustache? What kind of a moustache?

GOVERNOR [from without]. Wait, dear. Later.

ANNA. Wait? I don't want to wait. The idea, wait! I only want one word.
Is he a colonel or what? Eh? [Disgusted.] There, he's gone! You'll pay
for it! It's all your fault--you, with your "Mamma, dear, wait a moment,
I'll just pin my scarf. I'll come directly." Yes, directly! Now we have
missed the news. It's all your confounded coquettishness. You heard the
Postmaster was here and so you must prink and prim yourself in front of
the mirror--look on this side and that side and all around. You imagine
he's smitten with you. But I can tell you he makes a face at you the
moment you turn your back.

MARYA. It can't be helped, mamma. We'll know everything in a couple of
h