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fence. AkoulĂ­na The shirts? But maybe you’ll not go. He’s given the order. AnĂ­sya Didn’t I say I’d go? Where’s Nan? AkoulĂ­na Nan? Minding the calves. AnĂ­sya Send her here. I dare say they’ll not run away. AkoulĂ­na collects the clothes, and exit. AnĂ­sya If one doesn’t go he’ll scold. If one goes he’ll give the money to his sister. All my trouble will be wasted. I don’t myself know what I’m to do. My poor head’s splitting. Continues to work. Enter MatryĂłna, with a stick and a bundle, in outdoor clothes. MatryĂłna May the Lord help you, honey. AnĂ­sya Looks round, stops working, and claps her hands with joy. Well, I never expected this! Mother MatryĂłna, God has sent the right guest at the right time. MatryĂłna Well, how are things? AnĂ­sya Ah, I’m driven well-nigh crazy. It’s awful! MatryĂłna Well, still alive, I hear? AnĂ­sya Oh, don’t talk about it. He doesn’t live and doesn’t die! MatryĂłna But the money⁠—has he given it to anybody? AnĂ­sya He’s just sending for his sister Martha⁠—probably about the money. MatryĂłna Well, naturally! But hasn’t he given it to anyone else? AnĂ­sya To no one. I watch like a hawk. MatryĂłna And where is it? AnĂ­sya He doesn’t let out. And I can’t find out in any way. He hides it now here, now there, and I can’t do anything because of AkoulĂ­na. Idiot though she is, she keeps watch, and is always about. Oh my poor head! I’m bothered to death. MatryĂłna Oh, my jewel, if he gives the money to anyone but you, you’ll never cease regretting it as long as you live! They’ll turn you out of house and home without anything. You’ve been worriting, and worriting all your life with one you don’t love, and will have to go a-begging when you are a widow. AnĂ­sya No need to tell me, mother. My heart’s that weary, and I don’t know what to do. No one to get a bit of advice from. I told NikĂ­ta, but he’s frightened of the job. The only thing he did was to tell me yesterday it was hidden under the floor. MatryĂłna Well, and did you look there? AnĂ­sya I couldn’t. The old man himself was in the room. I notice that sometimes he carries it about on him, and sometimes he hides it. MatryĂłna But you, my lass, must remember that if once he gives you the slip there’s no getting it right again! Whispering. Well, and did you give him the strong tea? AnĂ­sya Oh! oh!⁠ ⁠
 About to answer, but sees neighbour and stops. The neighbour (a woman) passes the hut, and listens to a call from within. Neighbour To AnĂ­sya. I say, AnĂ­sya! Eh, AnĂ­sya! There’s your old man calling, I think. AnĂ­sya That’s the way he always coughs⁠—just as if he were screaming. He’s getting very bad. Neighbour Approaches MatryĂłna. How do you do, granny? Have you come far? MatryĂłna Straight from home, dear. Come to see my son. Brought him some shirts⁠—can’t help thinking of these things, you see, when it’s one’s own child. Neighbour Yes, that’s always so. To AnĂ­sya. And I was thinking of beginning to bleach the linen, but it is a bit early, no one has begun yet. AnĂ­sya Where’s the hurry? MatryĂłna Well, and has he had communion? AnĂ­sya Oh dear yes, the priest was here yesterday. Neighbour I had a look at him yesterday. Dearie me! one wonders his body and soul keep together. And, O Lord, the other day he seemed just at his last gasp, so that they laid him under the holy icons.1 They started lamenting and got ready to lay him out. AnĂ­sya He came to, and creeps about again. MatryĂłna Well, and is he to have extreme unction? AnĂ­sya The neighbours advise it. If he lives till tomorrow we’ll send for the priest. Neighbour Oh, AnĂ­sya dear, I should think your heart must be heavy. As the saying goes, “Not he is sick that’s ill in bed, but he that sits and waits in dread.” AnĂ­sya Yes, if it were only over one way or other! Neighbour Yes, that’s true, dying for a year, it’s no joke. You’re bound hand and foot like that. MatryĂłna Ah, but a widow’s lot is also bitter. It’s all right as long as one’s young, but who’ll care for you when you’re old? Oh yes, old age is not pleasure. Just look at me. I’ve not walked very far, and yet am so footsore I don’t know how to stand. Where’s my son? AnĂ­sya Ploughing. But you come in and we’ll get the samovar ready; the tea’ll set you up again. MatryĂłna Sitting down. Yes, it’s true, I’m quite done up, my dears. As to extreme unction, that’s absolutely necessary. Besides, they say it’s good for the soul. AnĂ­sya Yes, we’ll send tomorrow. MatryĂłna Yes, you had better. And we’ve had a wedding down in our parts. Neighbour What, in spring?2 MatryĂłna Ah, now if it were a poor man, then, as the saying is, it’s always unseasonable for a poor man to marry. But it’s Simon MatvĂ©yitch, he’s married that MarĂ­na. AnĂ­sya What luck for her! Neighbour He’s a widower. I suppose there are children? MatryĂłna Four of ’em. What decent girl would have him! Well, so he’s taken her, and she’s glad. You see, the vessel was not sound, so the wine trickled out. Neighbour Oh my! And what do people say to it? And he, a rich peasant! MatryĂłna They are living well enough so far. Neighbour Yes, it’s true enough. Who wants to marry where there are children? There now, there’s our Michael. He’s such a fellow, dear me⁠ ⁠
 Peasant’s Voice Hullo, MĂĄvra. Where the devil are you? Go and drive the cow in. Exit Neighbour. MatryĂłna While the Neighbour is within hearing speaks in her ordinary voice. Yes, lass, thank goodness, she’s married. At any rate my old fool won’t go bothering about NikĂ­ta. Now suddenly changing her tone, she’s gone! Whispers. I say, did you give him the tea? AnĂ­sya Don’t speak about it. He’d better die of himself. It’s no use⁠—he doesn’t
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