You and Monsieur Chichikov must change into the other britchka." "Come, come! The thing is not to be thought of." The flaxen-haired man was one of those people in whose character, at first sight, there seems to lurk a certain grain of stubbornness--so much so that, almost before one has begun to speak, they are ready to dispute one's words, and to disagree with anything that may be opposed to their peculiar form of opinion.

For instance, they will decline to have folly called wisdom, or any tune danced to but their own.

Always, however, will there become manifest in their character a soft spot, and in the end they will accept what hitherto they have denied, and call what is foolish sensible, and even dance--yes, better than any one else will do--to a tune set by some one else.

In short, they generally begin well, but always end badly.
"Rubbish!" said Nozdrev in answer to a further objection on his brother-in-law's part.

And, sure enough, no sooner had Nozdrev clapped his cap upon his head than the flaxen-haired man started to follow him and his companion.
"But the gentleman has not paid for the vodka ?" put in the old woman.
"All right, all right, good mother.