ACT III · 8

NIKÍTA. Me frightened of her! A likely thing! What are you crying for? She'll come back, no fear. Go and see to the samovár. [Exit Nan].

AKOULÍNA [collects and folds her presents] The mean wretch, how she's messed it up. But wait a bit, I'll cut up her jacket for her! Sure I will!

NIKÍTA. I've turned her out, what more do you want?

AKOULÍNA. She's dirtied my new shawl. If that bitch hadn't gone away, I'd have torn her eyes out!

NIKÍTA. That's enough. Why should you be angry? Now if I loved her …

AKOULÍNA. Loved her? She's worth loving, with her fat mug! If you'd have given her up, then nothing would have happened. You should have sent her to the devil. And the house was mine all the same, and the money was mine! Says she is the mistress, but what sort of mistress is she to her husband? She's a murderess, that's what she is! She'll serve you the same way!

NIKÍTA. Oh dear, how's one to stop a woman's jaw? You don't yourself know what you're jabbering about!

AKOULÍNA. Yes, I do. I'll not live with her! I'll turn her out of the house! She can't live here with me. The mistress indeed! She's not the mistress,—that jailbird!

NIKÍTA. That's enough! What have you to do with her? Don't mind her. You look at me! I am the master! I do as I like. I've ceased to love her, and now I love you. I love who I like! The power is mine, she's under me. That's where I keep her. [Points to his feet] A pity we've no concertina. [Sings].

“We have loaves on the stoves, We have porridge on the shelf. So we'll live and be gay, Making merry every day, And when death comes, Then we'll die! We have loaves on the stoves, We have porridge on the shelf …”

Enter Mítritch. He takes off his outdoor things and climbs on the oven.

MÍTRITCH. Seems the women have been fighting again! Tearing each other's hair. Oh Lord, gracious Nicholas!

AKÍM [sitting on the edge of the oven, takes his leg-bands and shoes and begins putting them on] Get in, get into the corner.

MÍTRITCH. Seems they can't settle matters between them. Oh Lord!

NIKÍTA. Get out the liquor, we'll have some with our tea.

NAN [to Akoulína] Sister, the samovár is just boiling over.

NIKÍTA. And where's your mother?

NAN. She's standing and crying out there in the passage.

NIKÍTA. Oh, that's it! Call her, and tell her to bring the samovár. And you, Akoulína, get the tea things.

AKOULÍNA. The tea things? All right. [Brings the things].

NIKÍTA [unpacks spirits, rusks, and salt herrings] That's for myself. This is yarn for the wife. The paraffin is out there in the passage, and here's the money. Wait a bit, [takes a counting-frame] I'll add it up. [Adds] Wheat-flour, 80 kopéykas, oil … Father, 10 roubles.… Father, come let's have some tea!

Silence. Akím sits on the oven and winds the bands round his legs. Enter Anísya with samovár.

ANÍSYA. Where shall I put it?

NIKÍTA. Here on the table. Well! have you been to the Elder? Ah, that's it! Have your say and then eat your words. Now then, that's enough. Don't be cross, sit down and drink this. [Fills a wine-glass for her] And here's your present. [Gives her the parcel he had been sitting on. Anísya takes it silently and shakes her head].

AKÍM [gets down and puts on his sheepskin, then comes up to the table and puts down the money] Here, take your money back! Put it away.

NIKÍTA [does not see the money] Why have you put on your things?

AKÍM. I'm going, going I mean; forgive me for the Lord's sake. [Takes up his cap and belt].

NIKÍTA. My gracious! Where are you going to at this time of night?

AKÍM. I can't, I mean what d'ye call 'em, in your house, what d'ye call 'em, can't stay I mean, stay, can't stay, forgive me.

NIKÍTA. But are you going without having any tea?