TATYÁNA. Oh, how has this come about! Oh, if we had what we wanted: you'd go to the country—and I'd go there too; you'd go to St. Petersburg—and I'd follow you.
BABÁYEV. I asked you to come with me.
TATYÁNA. It's all right for you. You're a free man, while I'm no better than a captive. That's my trouble. I've thought more than once how I could run away to you.
BABÁYEV. That's good.
TATYÁNA. Just think how unfortunate my life is: in order to have a little pleasure I have to deceive my husband. It's all deceit and deceit! But what's the use of deceiving? It disgusts me; it's not in my character. If my husband guessed that I didn't love him, then he'd kill me with scolding and reproaches. I very well understand that I can't be a real wife to him, and that I'm not wanted by his family; and they'd rather I were anywhere else; but who can I explain that to, who'd understand it! Just see how rough and stern they are, and I'm not used to sternness. What a life, when there's no freedom!
BABÁYEV. Tánya, I'll tell you what to do! Tell him outright that you don't want to live with him. You and your sister rent a house, and I'll send you the money.
TATYÁNA. That's impossible. Not to be thought of! Do you think he'd let me go? He doesn't care if I die—so long as I'm with him—before his eyes. It would be better for me to leave quietly.
BABÁYEV. Very well, leave quietly.
TATYÁNA. Really, I don't know. We're all brave when it's a matter of words, but when it comes to action, then you lose your reason, especially such as I. Do as you wish. I'll do as you advise me. If you love me, you won't want to cause my ruin.
BABÁYEV. Of course not.