JACOB. There is no more thin bread and butter. I said … [Exit].
SECOND FOOTMAN. And then our master's little son fell ill, and they sent him at once to an hotel with his nurse, and there he died without his mother.
FIRST FOOTMAN. They don't seem to fear sin! I think you cannot escape from God anywhere.
THEODORE IVÁNITCH. That's what I think.
Jacob runs upstairs with bread and butter.
FIRST FOOTMAN. One should consider too, that if we are to be afraid of everybody like that, we'd better shut ourselves up within four walls, as in a prison, and stick there!
Enter Tánya; she bows to the Footmen.
TÁNYA. Good afternoon.
Footmen bow.
TÁNYA. Theodore Ivánitch, I have a word to say to you.