GRÍSHA. Let me go down-town; to-day's a holiday there.
MADAM ULANBÉKOV. What do you want to go for? To stare at the drunkards?
GRÍSHA. [Clasping his hands behind him] Please, ma'am.
MADAM ULANBÉKOV. No, most certainly not!
GRÍSHA. Please do, mistress.
MADAM ULANBÉKOV. I tell you, positively, no! One's morals are just spoiled at these fairs. Your greedy ears will take in all kinds of nastiness! You're still a boy; that's no place for you!
GRÍSHA. No, but please let me, ma'am.
MADAM ULANBÉKOV. You stay right here! Put that nonsense out of your head!
GRÍSHA. Well, I declare! I slave, and slave, and can't ever go anywhere!
VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Oh me, oh my! Oh me, oh my! How spoiled you are! How spoiled you are!