All in the world make holiday,
But lonely you must pine.
Your mind is wild and drunken,
But it came not from the wine.
Youth shall not do your pleasure,
Beauty no healing bear.
Your sweetheart does not comb your locks,
But your harsh stepdame, Care."
During all this time RAZLYULYÁYEV stands as if rooted to the ground, and listens with emotion; when the song is finished all are silent.
RAZLYULYÁYEV. Good! Very good! It's awfully sad; it takes hold of one's heart. [Sighs] Ah, Yasha! play something cheerful; that's enough of this stuff—to-day's a holiday. [Sings.
"Who does not love a hussar!
Life without love would be sad!"
Play the tune, Yasha.
GÚSLIN plays the tune.
MÍTYA. That's enough of your fooling. Come, now, let's sit down in a circle and sing in a low tone.
RAZLYULYÁYEV. All right. [They sit down.
GÚSLIN. [Begins to sing; MÍTYA and RAZLYULYÁYEV join in]