“And you tell me what you’ve done with the money?”

Simon found the pocket of the jacket, drew out the three-rouble note, and unfolded it.

“Here is the money. Trífonof did not pay, but promises to pay soon.”

Matryóna got still more angry; he had bought no sheepskins, but had put his only coat on some naked fellow and had even brought him to their house.

She snatched up the note from the table, took it to put away in safety, and said: “I have no supper for you. We can’t feed all the naked drunkards in the world.”

“There now, Matryóna, hold your tongue a bit. First hear what a man has to say⁠—”

“Much wisdom I shall hear from a drunken fool. I was right in not wanting to marry you⁠—a drunkard. The linen my mother gave me you drank; and now you’ve been to buy a coat⁠—and have drunk it, too!”