|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| Some old man was chattering about it a long time ago. A stranger! | |
 | |  |
|
 |
 | |  |
| And Leonid Andreyevitch isn't here yet. He hasn't come. He's wearing a light, demi-saison overcoat. He'll catch cold. Oh these, young fellows! | |
 | |  |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| I'll die of this. Go and find out, Yasha, to whom was sold. | |
 | |  |
|
 |
 | |  |
| Oh, but he's been gone a long time, the old man. | |
 | |  |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| Why do you laugh? What are you glad about? | |
 | |  |
|
 |
 | |  |
| Epikhodov's too funny. He's a silly man. | |
 | |  |
|
|
|