Imagine the stir it would have created.
"Who is it? What's that?"
Then my footman walks in [draws himself up and imitates] and an-nounces:
"Ivan Aleksandrovich Khlestakov of St. Petersburg. Will you receive him?"
Those country lubbers don't even know what it means to "receive."
If any lout of a country squire pays them a visit, he stalks straight into the drawing-room like a bear.
Then you step up to one of their pretty girls and say:
"Dee-lighted, madam." [Rubs his hands and bows.] Phew! [Spits.] I feel positively sick, I'm so hungry.
SCENE VI
Khlestakov, Osip, and later the Servant.
KHLESTAKOV.
Well?
OSIP.
They're bringing dinner.
KHLESTAKOV [claps his hands and wriggles in his chair].
Dinner, dinner, dinner!
SERVANT [with plates and napkin].
This is the last time the landlord will let you have dinner.
KHLESTAKOV.
The landlord, the landlord!
I spit on your landlord.
What have you got there?
SERVANT.
Soup and roast beef.
KHLESTAKOV.
What! Only two courses?
SERVANT.
That's all.
KHLESTAKOV.
Nonsense! I won't take it.
What does he mean by that? Ask him.
It's not enough.
SERVANT.
The landlord says it's too much.
KHLESTAKOV.
Why is there no sauce?
SERVANT.
There is none.
KHLESTAKOV.
Why not?
I saw them preparing a whole lot when I passed through the kitchen.
And in the dining-room this morning two short little men were eating salmon and lots of other things.
SERVANT.
Well, you see, there is some and there isn't.
KHLESTAKOV.
Why "isn't"?
SERVANT.
Because there isn't any.
KHLESTAKOV.
What, no salmon, no fish, no cutlets?