[Exit.
Akoulína (takes cups). Well, shall I pour out the tea?
[Takes a cup. All are silent.
Mítritch (roars). Oh Lord be merciful to me a sinner!
[All start.
Nikíta (lies down on the bench). Oh, it's dull, it's dull! (To AKOULINA.) Where's the concertina?
Akoulína. The concertina? He's bethought himself of it. Why, you took it to be mended. I've poured out your tea. Drink it!
Nikíta. I don't want it! Put out the light.... Oh, how dull I feel, how dull!
[Sobs.
CURTAIN