KABANOV. But we pray God night and day for you, mamma, that God may grant you health, and every blessing and success in all you do.
MME. KABANOVA. Come, give over, please. I daresay you did love your mother, while you were a bachelor. But you've no thoughts for me now you've a young wife.
KABANOV. The one doesn't hinder the other. A wife is something different, but for my mother I have a reverence quite apart.
MME. KABANOVA. Then would you give up your wife rather than your mother? No, that I'll never believe.
KABANOV. But why should I give up either? I love both.
MME. KABANOVA. Oh, I daresay, I daresay, you may talk away! I see plain enough that I'm a hindrance to you.
KABANOV. You must think as you please, it's for you to decide in everything. Only I can't comprehend why I was ever born into the world so unlucky as not to be able to please you anyhow.
MME. KABANOVA. What do you mean by whimpering like a sick child! A pretty husband, upon my word! You should just see yourself! Do you suppose your wife will fear you after that?
KABANOV. Why should she fear me? I'm content, if she loves me.
MME. KABANOVA. Why should she fear you! Why should she fear you! What do you mean? Why, you must be crazy! If she doesn't fear you, she's not likely to fear me. A pretty state of confusion there would be in the house! Why, you're living with her in lawful wedlock, aren't you? Or does the law count for nothing to your thinking? If you do harbour such fools' notions in your brain, you shouldn't talk so before her anyway, nor before your sister, that's a girl still. She'll have to be married too; and if she catches up your silly talk it's her husband will thank us afterwards for the lessons we've taught her. You see how little sense you've got, and yet you want to be independent and live as you like.