Believe, Mr. Speransky, believe.
You judge in a very simple offhand manner. If, however, you take into consideration the fact that it is highly probable that nothing exists, that even we ourselves do not exist—
Why? There is no miracle for me, Miss Olympiada. If at this moment, for example, everything on this earth were suddenly to be suspended in the air, I shouldn’t regard it as a miracle.
As what then? You’re a very peculiar man.
I should look on it simply as a change. It was first one thing and then it became another. If you wish, I’ll admit that for me the very fact that things are as they are is in itself a miracle. All are glad and rejoicing but I sit and think: “Time is blinking his eyes now, and there is a change. The old people are dead, and in their places appear the young. And they are apparently glad and rejoicing too.”
Where is Savva?
Why do you want him?
He has been looking for Mr. Savva ever so long. We have looked everywhere, but have not been able to find him.
He was here awhile ago.
Where did he go?
To the monastery, I think.
TONY (pulling Speransky)
Good-bye, Miss Olympiada. How they are shouting over there! The time will come when they will all be silent. (They go off)
Why are they looking for Mr. Savva?
I don’t know.
I don’t like that seminarist. Always nosing about where there are dead around. What does he want? He is a dreadfully disagreeable fellow. Never misses a funeral. He smells death miles away.
He is an unhappy creature.
Unhappy? Why is he unhappy? Even the dogs in the village are afraid of him. You don’t believe it? It’s so, upon my word! They bark at him, and then slink away behind the gate.