FEKLUSHA. Dear girl, always at work! What are you doing, my dear?
GLASHA. I'm getting the master's things ready for his journey.
FEKLUSHA. Is he going away then—the light of our eyes?
GLASHA. Yes.
FEKLUSHA. Is he going to be away long, my dear?
GLASHA. No, not long.
FEKLUSHA. Well, God speed him on his way! And say, will the young mistress do a wail for his going or not?
GLASHA. That I can't say, really.
FEKLUSHA. But she does wail at times, I suppose?
GLASHA. Never heard of her doing it.