Leoníd Fyódoritch. Never mind, come in any case! If Kaptchitch can't come we shall find our own medium. Márya Ignátievna is a medium—not such a good one as Kaptchítch, but still....
[TÁNYA enters with plates for the presents, and stands listening.
Sahátof (smiling). Oh, yes, yes. But here is one puzzling point:—how is it that the mediums are always of the, so-called, educated class, such as Kaptchítch and Márya Ignátievna? If there were such a special force, would it not be met with also among the common people—the peasants?
Leoníd Fyódoritch. Oh yes, and it is! That is very common. Even here in our own house we have a peasant whom we discovered to be a medium. A few days ago we called him in—a sofa had to be moved, during a séance—and we forgot all about him. In all probability he fell asleep. And, fancy, after our séance was over and Kaptchítch had come to again, we suddenly noticed mediumistic phenomena in another part of the room, near the peasant: the table gave a jerk and moved!
Tánya (aside). That was when I was getting out from under it!
Leoníd Fyódoritch. It is quite evident he also is a medium. Especially as he is very like Home in appearance. You remember Home—a fair-haired naïf sort of fellow?
Sahátof (shrugging his shoulders). Dear me, this is very interesting, you know. I think you should try him.
Leoníd Fyódoritch. So we will! And he is not alone; there are thousands of mediums, only we do not know them. Why, only a short time ago a bedridden old woman moved a brick wall!
Sahátof. Moved a brick ... a brick wall?
Leoníd Fyódoritch. Yes, yes. She was lying in bed, and did not even know she was a medium. She just leant her arm against the wall, and the wall moved!