LITMIR.BIZ

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      MATRYÓNA [steps aside and beckons to Anísya with her finger] Well?

      ANÍSYA [comes down the porch steps] Not there.

      MATRYÓNA. But have you searched everywhere? Under the floor?

      ANÍSYA. No, it's not there either. In the shed perhaps; he was rummaging there yesterday.

      MATRYÓNA. Go, search, search for all you're worth. Go all over everywhere, as if you licked with your tongue! But I see he'll die this very day, his nails are turning blue and his face looks earthy. Is the samovár ready?

      ANÍSYA. Just on the boil.

      NIKÍTA [comes from the other side, if possible on horseback, up to the gate, and does not see Peter. To Matryóna] How d'you do, mother, is all well at home?

      MATRYÓNA. The Lord be thanked, we're all alive and have a crust to bite.

      NIKÍTA. Well, and how's master?

      MATRYÓNA. Hush, there he sits. [Points to porch].

      NIKÍTA. Well, let him sit. What's it to me?

      PETER [opens his eyes] Nikíta, I say, Nikíta, come here! [Nikíta approaches. Anísya and Matryóna whisper together].

      PETER. Why have you come back so early?

      NIKÍTA. I've finished ploughing.

      PETER. Have you done the strip beyond the bridge?

      NIKÍTA. It's too far to go there.

      PETER. Too far? From here it's still farther. You'll have to go on purpose now. You might have made one job of it. [Anísya, without showing herself, stands and listens].

      MATRYÓNA [approaches] Oh, sonnie, why don't you take more pains for your master? Your master is ill and depends on you; you should serve him as you would your own father, straining every muscle just as I always tell you to.

       PETER. Well then—o-oh!… Get out the seed potatoes, and the women will go and sort them.

      ANÍSYA [aside] No fear, I'm not going. He's again sending every one away; he must have the money on him now, and wants to hide it somewhere.

      PETER. Else … o-oh! when the time comes for planting, they'll all be rotten. Oh, I can't stand it! [Rises].

      MATRYÓNA [runs up into the porch and holds Peter up] Shall I help you into the hut?

      PETER. Help me in. [Stops] Nikíta!

      NIKÍTA [angrily] What now?

      PETER. I shan't see you again … I'll die to-day.… Forgive me,[3] for Christ's sake, forgive me if I have ever sinned against you … If I have sinned in word or deed … There's been all sorts of things. Forgive me!

      NIKÍTA. What's there to forgive? I'm a sinner myself.

      MATRYÓNA. Ah, sonnie, have some feeling.

      PETER. Forgive me, for Christ's sake. [Weeps].

      NIKÍTA [snivels] God will forgive you, Daddy Peter. I have no cause to complain of you. You've never done me any wrong. You forgive me; maybe I've sinned worse against you. [Weeps].

      Peter goes in whimpering, Matryóna supporting him.

      ANÍSYA. Oh, my poor head! It's not without some reason he's hit on that. [Approaches Nikíta] Why did you say the money was under the floor? It's not there.

      NIKÍTA [does not answer, but cries] I have never had anything bad from him, nothing but good, and what have I gone and done!

      ANÍSYA. Enough now! Where's the money?

      NIKÍTA [angrily] How should I know? Go and look for it yourself!

       ANÍSYA. What's made you so tender?

      NIKÍTA. I am sorry for him,—that sorry. How he cried! Oh dear!

      ANÍSYA. Look at him,—seized with pity! He has found someone to pity too! He's been treating you like a dog, and even just now was giving orders to have you turned out of the house. You'd better show me some pity!

      NIKÍTA. What are you to be pitied for?

      ANÍSYA. If he dies, and the money's been hidden away …

      NIKÍTA. No fear, he'll not hide it …

      ANÍSYA. Oh, Nikíta darling! he's sent for his sister, and wants to give it to her. It will be a bad lookout for us. How are we going to live, if he gives her the money? They'll turn me out of the house! You try and manage somehow! You said he went to the shed last night.

      NIKÍTA. I saw him coming from there, but where he's shoved it to, who can tell?

      ANÍSYA. Oh, my poor head! I'll go and have a look there. [Nikíta steps aside].

      MATRYÓNA [comes out of the hut and down the steps of the porch to Anísya and Nikíta] Don't go anywhere. He's got the money on him. I felt it on a string round his neck.

      ANÍSYA. Oh my head, my head!

      MATRYÓNA. If you don't keep wide awake now, then you may whistle for it. If his sister comes—then good-bye to it!

      ANÍSYA. That's true. She'll come and he'll give it her. What's to be done? Oh my poor head!

      MATRYÓNA. What is to be done? Why, look here; the samovár is boiling, go and make the tea and pour him out a cup, and then [whispers] put in all that's left in the paper. When he's drunk the cup, then just take it. He'll not tell, no fear.

      ANÍSYA. Oh! I'm afeared!

       MATRYÓNA. Don't be talking now, but look alive, and I'll keep his sister off if need be. Mind, don't make a blunder! Get hold of the money and bring it here, and Nikíta will hide it.

      ANÍSYA. Oh my head, my head! I don't know how I'm going to …

      MATRYÓNA. Don't talk about it I tell you, do as I bid you. Nikíta!

      NIKÍTA. What is it?

      MATRYÓNA. You stay here—sit down—in case something is wanted.

      NIKÍTA [waves his hand] Oh these women, what won't they be up to? Muddle one up completely. Bother them! I'll really go and fetch out the potatoes.

      MATRYÓNA [catches him by the arm] Stay here, I tell you.

      Nan enters.

      ANÍSYA. Well?

      NAN. She was down in her daughter's vegetable plot—she's coming.

      ANÍSYA. Coming! What shall we do?

      MATRYÓNA. There's plenty of time if you do as I tell you.

      ANÍSYA. I don't know what to do; I know nothing, my brain's all in a whirl. Nan! Go, daughter, and see to the calves, they'll have run away, I'm afraid.… Oh dear, I haven't the courage.

      MATRYÓNA. Go on! I should think the samovár's boiling over.

      ANÍSYA. Oh my head, my poor head! [Exit].

      MATRYÓNA [approaches Nikíta] Now then, sonnie. [Sits down beside him] Your affairs must also be thought about, and not left anyhow.

      NIKÍTA. What affairs?

      MATRYÓNA. Why, this affair—how you're to live your life.

       NIKÍTA. How to live my life? Others live, and I shall live!

      MATRYÓNA. The old man will probably die to-day.

      NIKÍTA. Well, if he dies, God give him rest! What's that to me?

      MATRYÓNA [keeps looking towards the porch while she speaks] Eh, sonnie! Those that are alive have to think about living. One needs plenty of sense in these matters, honey. What do you think? I've tramped all over the place after your affairs,

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