with him the troubles of life!  Some day or other she will be a mother and must bring up children.  Ha, ha! they will have a fine bringing-up!  She is here to make a show; but for nothing beside!  She is an adept at spending money.  Yes, give her money, money, so that she can rig herself out and go to balls and parties! [Nato cries.] Can I stand this any longer?  Can I go on with these doings?  Retrench, you say.  What is this [taking a corner of Nato’s tunic in his hand]?  How is this for a twelve-story building?  Does it warm the back?  How am I to reduce expenses here?  And if I do it, will others do it also?  I’d like to see the man who could do it!
                    [Nato still crying.

CHACHO. 
Do all these things you have said in my presence amount to anything?  You
yourself said that you troubled yourself little about what others did. 
What do you want, then?  Why should you poison the heart of this innocent
girl?
                    [All are silent awhile.

OSSEP [lays his hand on his forehead and recovers himself.] O just heaven, what am I doing?  I am beside myself. [Goes up to Nato.] Not to you, not to you, my Nato, should I say all this! [Embraces her.] No, you do not deserve it; you are innocent.  We are to blame for all.  I am to blame, I! because I imitated the others and brought you up as others brought up their daughters.  Don’t cry!  I did not wish to hurt you.  I was in bad humor, for everything has vexed me to-day, and unfortunately you came in at the wrong moment. [Picks up the music and gives it to her.] Here, take the music, my child. [Embraces her again.] Go and buy some more.  Do what you wish everywhere, and be behind no one.  Until to-day you have wanted nothing, and, with God’s help, you shall want nothing in the future.
                    [Kisses her and turns to go.

CHACHO.  Now, Ossep, think it over; come to some decision in the matter.

OSSEP.  I should like to, indeed; but what I cannot do I cannot do.
                    [Goes off at the right.

SCENE VIII

Nato, Chacho, then Salome.

NATO [falling sobbing in Chacho’s arms].  O dear, dear aunt.

CHACHO.  Stop; don’t cry, my dear, my precious child.  It is indeed your father.  Stop; stop, Salome.

SALOME [coming in smiling].  Dear aunt, I have arranged everything.
[Stops.] What is this now?  Why are you crying?
                    [Nato wipes away her tears and goes toward the divan.

CHACHO.  You know her father, don’t you?  He has been scolding her, and has made her cry.

SALOME.  If her father has been troubling her, then I will make her happy again.  Nato, dear, I have betrothed you. [Nato looks at her in wonderment.] Yes, my love, be happy—­what have you to say about it?  Mr. Alexander Marmarow is now your betrothed.