"Now my young, my young lads,
You my friends…."
Enter GORDÉY KÁRPYCH; all stand up and stop singing.
SCENE VII
The same and GORDÉY KÁRPYCH
GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. What's all this screeching! Bawling like so many peasants! [To MÍTYA] And you here! You're not living here in a peasant's hut! What a dram-shop! See that this sort of thing doesn't go on in the future! [Goes to the table and inspects the papers] Why are these papers all scattered about?
MÍTYA. I was looking over the accounts, sir. GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. [Takes the book by Koltsóv, and the copy-book with verses] And this, too, what's this rubbish?
MÍTYA. I was copying these poems of Koltsóv's to pass the time away, since it's a holiday. GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. You are sentimental for a poor lad!
MÍTYA. I just study for my own education, in order to understand things.
GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Education! Do you know what education is?—And yet you keep on talking! You ought to get yourself a new coat! For when you come up-stairs to us and there are guests, it's a disgrace! What do you do with your money?
MÍTYA. I send it to my mother because she is old and has nowhere to get any.