“Let me introduce …” mutters Nikitin, “Bezbozhnikov, a provincial manager.”

The singer utters a shriek, and runs off into her bedroom.

“There, you see …” says mari d’elle, as he stretches himself on the sofa, “it was all honey just now … my love, my dear, my darling, kisses and embraces … but as soon as money is touched upon, then.… As you see … money is the great thing.… Good night!”

A minute later there is a snore.