Neighbor. Oh, my! And what do people say to it? And he, a rich peasant!
Matryóna. They are living well enough so far.
Neighbor. Yes, it's true enough. Who wants to marry where there are children? There now, there's our Michael. He's such a fellow, dear me....
Peasant's voice. Hullo, Mávra. Where the devil are you? Go and drive the cow in.
[Exit NEIGHBOR.
Matryóna (while the NEIGHBOR is within hearing speaks in her ordinary voice). Yes, lass, thank goodness, she's married. At any rate my old fool won't go bothering about Nikíta. Now (suddenly changing her tone), she's gone! (Whispers.) I say, did you give him the tea?
Anísya. Don't speak about it. He'd better die of himself. It's no use—he doesn't die, and I have only taken a sin on my soul. O-oh, my head, my head! Oh, why did you give me those powders?
Matryóna. What of the powders? The sleeping powders, lass,—why not give them? No evil can come of them.
Anísya. I am not talking of the sleeping ones, but the others, the white ones.
Matryóna. Well, honey, those powders are medicinal.