POPOVA. I ask you to go away!
SMIRNOV. Give me my money.... [Aside] Oh, how angry I am! How angry I am!
POPOVA. I don’t want to talk to impudent scoundrels! Get out of this! [Pause] Aren’t you going? No?
SMIRNOV. No.
POPOVA. No?
SMIRNOV. No!
POPOVA. Very well then! [Rings, enter LUKA] Luka, show this gentleman out!
LUKA. [Approaches SMIRNOV] Would you mind going out, sir, as you’re asked to! You needn’t...
SMIRNOV. [Jumps up] Shut up! Who are you talking to? I’ll chop you into pieces!
LUKA. [Clutches at his heart] Little fathers!... What people!... [Falls into a chair] Oh, I’m ill, I’m ill! I can’t breathe!