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Ogudalov. You thank Vasya, just whisper in his ear, “Thank you.” And Knurov too.

      Larisa. Why Knurov?

      Mme Ogudalov. It’s something necessary, I know why.

      Larisa. Oh, Mama, you always have your secrets and tricks.

      Mme Ogudalov. Tricks! You can’t live in this world without tricks.

      Larisa (takes the guitar, sits next to the window, and starts to sing).

      Mother mine, so dear to me, sun so warm and mild, Mother mine, caress your own tiny baby child.[4]Yuly Kapitonych wants to enter the election for Justice of Peace.

      Mme Ogudalov. That’s very nice. For what district?

      Larisa. For Zabolotye.

      Mme Ogudalov. Aie, isn’t that off in the sticks somewhere? Where did he get the idea of going so far?

      Larisa. There aren’t so many candidates there; he’d probably get elected.

      Mme Ogudalov. Well, all right, even there people can live.

      Larisa. I don’t mind going even to the sticks, just so long as I can get away from here first.

      Mme Ogudalov. It could be a good thing living in the sticks for a while. Your Karandyshov will look good there, he might be the first man in the district, and little by little you’ll get used to him.

      Larisa. But he’s a good man here too. I don’t see anything bad in him.

      Mme Ogudalov. Oh come now! As if there aren’t others just as good as him!

      Larisa. Of course, some are even better. I know that myself, very well.

      Mme Ogudalov. They’re better all right, only they’re not for the likes of us.

      Larisa. Right now even this one’s good enough for me. But why talk about it, it’s all decided.

      Mme Ogudalov. I’m just glad you like him, thank God for that! I’m not going to judge him before you, but we don’t have to pretend to each other, you’re not blind.

      Larisa. I’ve become blind, I’ve lost all my feelings, and I’m glad of it. For a long time now everything around me’s been like a dream. No, I simply must leave here, I must tear myself away. I’ll keep after Yuly Kapitonych. Soon summer will be over, and I want to walk through the woods, to pick berries and mushrooms…

      Mme Ogudalov. So that’s why you’ve gotten yourself a basket! Now I understand. Get yourself a straw hat with a wide brim, and then you’ll be a shepherd girl.

      Larisa. I’ll get a hat too. (She sings.)

      O tempt me not if there’s no need.[5]

      It’s calm and quiet there.

      Mme Ogudalov. But when September comes it won’t be so quiet; the wind will blow at your window.

      Larisa. So what?

      Mme Ogudalov. The wolves will howl in different keys.

      Larisa. Still, it will be better than here. At least my soul will have some rest.

      Mme Ogudalov. Do you think I’m trying to talk you out of it? Go there, please do, and let your soul have its rest. But you must realize, Zabolotye is no Italy. I have to tell you that so you won’t be disillusioned. You’d blame me for not warning you.

      Larisa. Thanks. But even if it will be wild there, and far away, and cold, for me, after the kind of life I’ve had here, every quiet nook will seem like heaven. Why Yuly Kapitonych is putting it off is something I can’t understand.

      Mme Ogudalov. But why should he want to rush off to the country! He wants to do some showing off. And no wonder. He was nothing, and now he’s become somebody.

      Larisa (sings). O tempt me not if there’s no need… How irritating, I just can’t get the right key. (She looks out the window.) Ilya, Ilya! Come in for a minute! I’ll take some songs with me to the country to play and sing when I’m bored.

      Ilya enters.

      Ilya. Happy birthday! May God grant you health and happiness! (He puts his peak cap on the chair by the door.)

      Larisa. Ilya, give me the right key for “O tempt me not if there’s no need.” I’m always off-key. (She gives him the guitar.)

      Ilya. Right away, miss. (He takes the guitar and tunes up.) That’s a pretty song. It’s good for three voices, you need a tenor for the second part… It’s awful pretty. But you know, an awful thing happened with us, an awful thing!

      Mme Ogudalov. What awful thing?

      Ilya. Our Anton, he sings tenor.

      Mme Ogudalov. I know, I know.

      Ilya. He’s our only tenor, all the rest sing bass. What basses they are, what basses! But Anton’s our only tenor.

      Mme Ogudalov. So what about it?

      Ilya. He’s not fit for the chorus, no good at all.

      Mme Ogudalov. He’s not well?

      Ilya. His health is all right, nothing wrong there.

      Mme Ogudalov. Then what’s the matter with him?

      Ilya. He’s bent over on one side, at an angle. He walks like that, bent over at a right angle, and he’ll be like that for another week, it’s awful! Every man is worth a lot in a chorus, but what can you do without a tenor! He went to the doctor, and the doctor says, “After a week or two it’ll go away, you’ll be straight again.” But we need him now.

      Larisa. But I want you to sing!

      Ilya. Right away, miss. The guitar’s out of tune. It’s awful, just awful! In a chorus you’ve got to stand up straight, and there he is bent over.

      Mme Ogudalov. How did he get that way?

      Ilya. From stupidity.

      Mme Ogudalov. What kind of stupidity?

      Ilya. That kind of stupidity our people have. I said, “Watch out, Anton, be careful now!” But he didn’t understand.

      Mme Ogudalov. And we don’t understand either.

      Ilya. Well, I hate to tell you, but he went on a spree, and what a spree, what a spree! I said, “Anton, watch out, careful now!” But he didn’t understand. Oh it’s awful, awful! Right now a man’s worth a hundred rubles, that’s the business at hand, the kind of gentleman we’re expecting, and there’s Anton bent over crooked. He was a real straight-up gypsy, but now he’s twisted! (He starts to sing in a bass voice.) “O tempt me not…”

      Voice through the window: “Ilya, Ilya, come here! Come quick!"

      Why? What do you want?

      Voice from the street: “Come, the gentleman is here!"

      You’re joking!

      Voice from the street: “He's really come!"

      I don’t have any more time, miss, the gentleman’s come. (He puts down the guitar and takes his peak cap.)

      Mme Ogudalov. What gentleman?

      Ilya.

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