[ANÍSYA, without showing herself, stands and listens.
Matryóna (approaches). Oh, sonny, why don't you take more pains for your master? Your master is ill and depends on you; you should serve him as you would your own father, straining every muscle just as I always tell you to.
Peter. Well, then—o—oh!... Get out the seed potatoes, and the women will go and sort them.
Anísya (aside). No fear, I'm not going. He's again sending every one away; he must have the money on him now, and wants to hide it somewhere.
Peter. Else ... o—oh! when the time comes for planting, they'll all be rotten. Oh, I can't stand it!
[Rises.
Matryóna (runs up into the porch and holds PETER up). Shall I help you into the hut?
Peter. Help me in. (Stops.) Nikíta!
Nikíta (angrily). What now?
Peter. I shan't see you again.... I'll die to-day.... Forgive [me,] [3] for Christ's sake, forgive me if I have ever sinned against you.... If I have sinned in word or deed.... There's been all sorts of things. Forgive me!