Anísya. Oh my head, my poor head!
[Exit.
Matryóna (approaches NIKÍTA). Now then, sonny. (Sits down beside him.) Your affairs must also be thought about, and not left anyhow.
Nikíta. What affairs?
Matryóna. Why, this affair—how you're to live your life.
Nikíta. How to live my life? Others live, and I shall live!
Matryóna. The old man will probably die to-day.
Nikíta. Well, if he dies, God give him rest! What's that to me?
Matryóna (keeps looking towards the porch while she speaks). Eh, sonny! Those that are alive have to think about living. One needs plenty of sense in these matters, honey. What do you think? I've tramped all over the place after your affairs, I've got quite footsore bothering about matters. And you must not forget me when the time comes.
Nikíta. And what's it you've been bothering about?