MADAM ULANBÉKOV. What are you cackling about? Keep still!
VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. But how can I keep still, benefactress? Such lack of feeling! Such ingratitude! It pierces the heart.
MADAM ULANBÉKOV. I command you to keep still, and you must keep still!
GRÍSHA. Please let me, ma'am!
VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. As if the mistress didn't love you, as if she didn't fondle you, more, if anything, than her own son!
MADAM ULANBÉKOV. [Stamping her foot] Shhh!…. I'll turn you out!
GRÍSHA. I want awfully to go to the fair; please let me, ma'am.
MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Well, go along then! but come back early!
GRÍSHA. Yes, ma'am.
VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Kiss the dear lady's hand, you blockhead!