"I fancy it's General Zhigalov's," says someone in the crowd.

"General Zhigalov's, h'm! Help me off with my coat, Yeldyrin...

it's frightfully hot!

It must be a sign of rain. There's one thing I can't make out, how it came to bite you?" Otchumyelov turns to Hryukin.

"Surely it couldn't reach your finger. It's a little dog, and you are a great hulking fellow!

You must have scratched your finger with a nail, and then the idea struck you to get damages for it. We all know your sort! I know you devils!" "He put a cigarette in her face, your honour, for a joke, and she had the sense to snap at him. He is a nonsensical fellow, your honour!" "That's a lie, Squinteye! You didn't see, so why tell lies about it?

His honour is a wise gentleman, and will see who is telling lies and who is telling the truth, as in God's sight.

And if I am lying let the court decide. It's written in the law. We are all equal nowadays.

My own brother is in the gendarmes, let me tell you...

" " "Don't argue!"