BORIS. Isn't my uncle inside?
GLASHA. Yes. Do you want him?
BORIS. They sent me from home to find out where he was. But since he's with you let him stop there; no one wants him. At home they're pleased and happy that he's out.
GLASHA. Our good lady out to marry him, she'd soon make him mind what he's about. But I mustn't stop here gossiping with you! Good-bye. [Exit.
BORIS. Ah, merciful Heavens! For one glimpse of her! I can't go into the house. No one calls anywhere uninvited in this place. What a life! We are living in the same town, almost next door; yet we barely see each other once a week, and then only in church, or in the street,—and that's all! When a woman's married here she might as well be buried,—it's all the same. (Silence.) If only I had never seen her; it would have been better for me! I can only see her by snatches, and before people,—who are all eyes, staring at one. It's simply heartrending. And yet there's no mastering oneself. If I go out for a walk, I always find myself here at the gate. And what use is there in coming here? There's never any chance of seeing her, and what's more, it may give rise to gossip and do her harm. Well, it's a fine town, certainly!
[He is going, Kuligin comes, meeting him.
KULIGIN. Well, sir? out for a walk?
BORIS. Yes, it's very pleasant out now.
KULIGIN. Very pleasant it is, sir, walking now. The stillness, the sweet air, the scent of flowers from the far side of the Volga, the clear sky—
The space aloft, filled full of stars, Stars numberless, space limitless.