Zemphira: "Dislike them? And what do I care! I am singing for myself. Cut me, burn me, I will not complain. Old husband, cruel husband, thou shalt not discover him. He is fresher than the spring, warmer than the summer-day. How young and bold he is! How much he loves me! How I caressed him in the stillness of the night! How we laughed together at thy white hair."
Aleko: "Silence, Zemphira. Enough!"
Zemphira: "Then thou hast understood my song."
Aleko: "Zemphira!"
Zemphira: "Be angry if thou wilt.... the song is about thee." (She retires singing, "Old husband, &c.")
The Old Gypsy: "Yes, I remember; that song was made in my time, and has long been sung for folk's amusement. Marioula used; as we wandered over the Kagula Steppes, to sing it in the winter nights. The memory of past years grows fainter hourly, but that song impressed me deeply." . . . . . . . . . . . All is still. It is night, and the moon casts a sheen over the blue of the southern sky. Zemphira has awakened the old man.
"Oh, father! Aleko is terrible; listen to him! In his heavy sleep he groans and sobs."
The Old Gypsy: "Do not disturb him, keep quiet. I have heard a Russian saying that at this time, at midnight, the house spirit often oppresses a sleeper's breathing, and before dawn quits him again. Stay with me."
Zemphira: "Father, he murmurs Zemphira!"
The Old Gypsy: "He seeks thee even in his sleep. Thou art dearer to him than all the world."