Anísya. No fear, she'll not die. But don't you go near her. Come along.
[Exit ANÍSYA and NAN.
Mítritch (comes in at the gate and begins collecting the scattered hay). Oh, Lord! Merciful Nicholas! What a lot of liquor they've been and swilled, and the smell they've made! It smells even out here! But no, I don't want any, drat it! See how they've scattered the hay about. They don't eat it, but only trample it under foot. A truss gone before you know it. Oh, that smell, it seems to be just under my nose! Drat it! (Yawns.) It's time to go to sleep! But I don't care to go into the hut. It seems to float just round my nose! It has a strong scent, the damned stuff! (The guests are heard driving off.) They're off at last. Oh Lord! Merciful Nicholas! There they go, binding themselves and gulling one another. And it's all gammon!
[Enter NIKÍTA.
Nikíta. Mítritch, you get off to sleep and I'll put this straight.
Mítritch. All right, you throw it to the sheep. Well, have you seen 'em all off?
Nikíta. Yes, they're off! But things are not right! I don't know what to do!
Mítritch. It's a fine mess. But there's the [Foundlings'] [6] for that sort of thing. Whoever likes may drop one there; they'll take 'em all. Give 'em as many as you like, they ask no questions, and even pay--if the mother goes in as a wet-nurse. It's easy enough nowadays.
Nikíta. But mind, Mítritch, don't go blabbing.
Mítritch. It's no concern of mine. Cover the tracks as you think best. Dear me, how you smell of liquor! I'll go in. Oh, Lord!