Mítritch. Not right? Eh, old fellow, who cares about that nowadays? And how clean they pluck you, too! That's the fact of the matter.
Akím (sighs). Ah, yes, seems the time's what d'ye call it, the time's growing ripe. There, I've had a look at the closets in town. What they've come to! It's all polished and polished I mean, it's fine, it's what d'ye call it, it's like inside an inn. And what's it all for? What's the good of it? Oh, they've forgotten God. Forgotten, I mean. We've forgotten, forgotten God, God, I mean! Thank you, my dear, I've had enough. I'm quite satisfied.
[Rises. MÍTRITCH climbs on to the oven.
Anísya (eats, and collects the dishes). If his father would only take him to task! But I'm ashamed to tell him.
Akím. What d'you say?
Anísya. Oh! it's nothing.
[Enter NAN.
Akím. Here's a good girl, always busy! You're cold, I should think?
Nan. Yes, I am, terribly. How d'you do, grandfather?
Anísya. Well? Is he there?