“Why not? All men are crowing cocks, and that is why they quarrel. You , though, I perceive, are a blockhead⁠—a man who does not even know how to carry his breeding. Lift me up. Potapitch, see to it that you always have two bearers ready. Go and arrange for their hire. But we shall not require more than two, for I shall need only to be carried upstairs. On the level or in the street I can be wheeled along. Go and tell them that, and pay them in advance, so that they may show me some respect. You too, Potapitch, are always to come with me, and you , Alexis Ivanovitch, are to point out to me this Baron as we go along, in order that I may get a squint at the precious ‘Von.’ And where is that roulette played?”