Peasants take their bags.
DISCHARGED COOK. Oh those damned fiends! It's all their fat! Fiends!
SERVANTS' COOK. You be quiet there. Thank goodness they didn't see you!
TÁNYA. Well then, daddy, come along to the porter's lodge.
FIRST PEASANT. Well, but how about our business? How, for example, about the applience of his hand to the signature? May we be in hopes?
TÁNYA. We'll see in an hour's time.
SECOND PEASANT. You'll do the trick?
TÁNYA [laughs] Yes, God willing!
Curtain.