A bachelor’s room. Podkolesin is alone—lying on the sofa with a pipe. When you start thinking in solitude in your free time, you immediately understand: it’s time to get married—this is certain. Seriously: you live, live, and in the end such a nasty thing happens. You missed another fast day. And it seems everything has already been arranged—the matchmaker has been going for three months now. Honest word, it even becomes awkward for yourself. Hey, Stepan!…