Have you seen Savva?
No, I am sorry to say I haven’t. I say, they buried three people to-day. One old man—perhaps you knew him—Peter Khvorostov?
Yes, I knew him. So he’s dead?
Yes, and two children. The women wept a great deal.
What did they die of?
I am sorry, but I don’t know. It didn’t interest me. Some children’s disease, I suppose. When children die, Miss Olympiada, they turn all blue and look as if they wanted to cry. The faces of grown people are tranquil, but children’s faces are not. Why is that so?
I don’t know—I’ve never noticed it.
It’s a very interesting phenomenon.
There’s father now. I told you to go to bed. Now I’ve got to listen to your brawling. I’ll get out.
(Exit. Enter Yegor Tropinin)
Who lighted the lamp?
Good evening, Mr. Tropinin.
Good evening. Who lighted the lamp?
YEGOR (blowing it out)
Learned it from Savva. (To Tony) And you, what’s the matter with you? How long, how long, for Christ’s sake? How long am I to stand all this from you, you good-for-nothing loafers? Eh? Where did you get the whiskey, eh?
At the bar.
It wasn’t put there for you, was it?
You have a very funny face, father.
Give me the whiskey.
YEGOR (slaps his face)
Give it to me, I say.
TONY (falls on the sofa, still holding on to the bottle)