“Oh, you old fatty!” he exclaimed, “shivers and shakes, quivers and quakes! Be off! this has nothing to do with you!” Then he went on a little way and thought, “Why did I bid her remove?” So he approached her again and said, “Babushka, 12 little dove, forgive me: this is my trouble. Prince Vladímir has given me eighty score of sable skins, of which I am to make a shúba in the morning. If only the buttons had been moulded and the silken buttonholes sewn! But there are to be lions moulded on to the buttons, and there are to be shepherds embroidered on to the buttonholes that should have sung and warbled. How am I to set about it? It would be better for me to drink vodka behind the counter.”