Anísya. O-oh, my head, my head! I can't think what to do. I am so frightened; he'd better die of himself. I don't want to have it on my soul.
Matryóna (viciously). And why doesn't he show the money? Does he mean to take it along with him? Is no one to have it? Is that right? God forbid such a sum should be lost all for nothing. Isn't that a sin? What's he doing? Is he worth considering?
Anísya. I don't know anything. He's worried me to death.
Matryóna. What is it you don't know? The business is clear. If you make a slip now, you'll repent it all your life. He'll give the money to his sister and you'll be left without.
Anísya. O—oh dear! Yes, and he did send for her—I must go.
Matryóna. You wait a bit and light the samovár first. We'll give him some tea and search him together—we'll find it, no fear.
Anísya. Oh dear, oh dear; supposing something were to happen.
Matryóna. What now? What's the good of waiting? Do you want the money to slip from your hand when it's just in sight? You go and do as I say.
Anísya. Well, I'll go and light the samovár.
Matryóna. Go, honey, do the business so as not to regret it afterwards. That's right!