Nikolai Ivanych is married and has children. His wife, a brisk, sharp-nosed, and quick-eyed tradeswoman, has also put on a good deal of weight lately, just like her husband. He defers to her judgment in everything, and she keeps a tight hand on the purse-strings. Rowdy drunkards are afraid of her; she dislikes them, for there is little profit and a lot of noise from them; she would much rather deal with the silent and gloomy ones. Nikolai Ivanych’s children are still small; the first all died, and those who survived resemble their parents: it makes one feel good to look at the clever little
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