KABANOV. But, mamma, when have I not put up with anything from you?
MME. KABANOVA. The mother's old, and foolish, to be sure; you young people must not be too exacting with us old fools.
KABANOV (sighs, aside). Oh, merciful Heavens! (To his mother) We should never dare think such a thing for a moment, mamma!
MME. KABANOVA. It's out of love that parents are severe with you, out of love they scold even—they're always thinking how to train you in the right way. To be sure, that's not in favour nowadays. And children go about among folks proclaiming that their mother's a scold, that their mother won't let them stir, that she's the plague of their life. And if—Lord save us—some word of hers doesn't please her daughter-in-law, then it's the talk all over the place, that the mother-in-law worries her to death.
KABANOV. You don't mean that anyone talks about you, mamma?
MME. KABANOVA. I haven't heard so, my son, I haven't; I don't want to tell a lie about it. If I had, indeed, I shouldn't be talking to you like this, my dear. (Sighs) Ah, sin is a heavy burden! Sin is never far off! Something said goes to the heart, and there, one sins, one gets angry. No, my son, say what you like about me, there's no forbidding anyone to talk; if they don't dare before one's face, they'll do it behind one's back.
KABANOV. May my tongue wither up and...
MME. KABANOVA. Hush, hush, don't swear! It's a sin! I've seen plain enough for a long time past that your wife's dearer to you than your mother. Ever since you were married, I don't see the same love for me that I did in you.
KABANOV. In what way do you see me changed, mamma?
MME. KABANOVA. In everything, my son! When a mother doesn't see a thing with her eyes, her heart's so sensitive she can feel it with her heart. Or maybe it's your wife sets you against me, I can't say.