Roadside inns are dear. As a rule they fleece one of five roubles."
Silently Oblomov handed him another rouble, in the hope that the man would now depart; but Tarantiev was not to be so easily shaken off.
"And also you might order Zakhar to bring me a snack now," he said.
"But I thought you intended to dine at an inn?"
"Yes, to dine, but at the moment the time is two o'clock, and no more."
Oblomov issued the necessary orders. On receiving them, Zakhar looked darkly at Tarantiev.
"We have no food ready," he said. "Also, where are my master's shirt and jacket?"
"Shirt and jacket? Why, I gave them back to you long ago. I stuffed them into your own hands, and you bundled them away into a corner. Yet you come asking me where they are!"
"Also, what about a floor brush and two cups which you carried off?" persisted Zakhar.
"Floorbrush? What floorbrush?" retorted Tarantiev. "Go and get me something to eat, you old fool!"
