Nikíta. And can never come back, you mean?
Marína. And will never come back! But why have you gone away? You, the master,—and to go away from the feast!
Nikíta (sits down on the straw). Why have I gone away? Eh, if you knew, if you had any idea.... I'm dull, Marína, so dull that I wish my eyes would not see! I rose from the table and left them, to get away from the people. If I could only avoid seeing any one!
Marína (coming nearer to him). How's that?
Nikíta. This is how it is: when I eat, it's there! When I drink, it's there! When I sleep, it's there! I'm so sick of it—so sick! But it's chiefly because I'm all alone that I'm so sick, Marína. I have no one to share my trouble.
Marína. You can't live your life without trouble, Nikíta. However, I've wept over mine and wept it away.
Nikíta. The former, the old trouble! Ah, dear friend, you've wept yours away, and I've got mine up to there!
[Puts his hand to his throat.
Marína. But why?
Nikíta. Why, I'm sick of my whole life! I am sick of myself! Ah, Marína, why did you not know how to keep me? You've ruined me, and yourself too! Is this life?