LUKÉRYA. What do you think you'll do now?
TATYÁNA. What's the use of thinking? My head's all in a muddle. It's bad, no matter how you look at it. I sold my very youth to one I cannot love, just for a piece of bread, and from one day to another he becomes more repulsive to me.
LUKÉRYA. After such actions on his part, it's no wonder he's repulsive. Especially when you compare him with others. The other man is a born gentleman in every sense of the word.
TATYÁNA. Now what shall I do? If I could break off all connection with
Valentin Pávlich, I should be very glad. But I see I should have thought
of that before, and attended to the matter earlier; but now it's too late.
It's beyond my strength.
LUKÉRYA. But he loves you very much, Tánya.
TATYÁNA. Is that so? Oh, bother him. That's just it; at first I haven't enough sense, then I have to cry over it. My mother used to say to me: "Be careful, daughter, your lack of common sense will be your ruin."
LUKÉRYA. You want to see him, I suppose? I think he's waiting.
TATYÁNA. Well, of course. If it depended on me, I'd fly to him.
LUKÉRYA. We'll have to rack our brains how we may work that.
TATYÁNA. No matter how I rack my brain, I can't think of anything.