First Peasant. And Daddy Mítry here is already on the look-out for your place; he's hankering after a life of luckshury!
Simon. Eh, Daddy Mítry, you'd soon get sick of it. It seems easy enough when one looks at it, but there's a lot of running about that takes it out of one.
Servants' Cook. You should see one of their balls, Daddy Mítry, then you would be surprised!
Third Peasant. Why, do they eat all the time?
Servants' Cook. My eye! You should have seen what we had here awhile ago. Theodore Ivánitch took me upstairs and I peeped in. The ladies—awful! Dressed up! Dressed up, bless my heart, and all bare down to here, and their arms bare.
Third Peasant. Oh, Lord!
Second Peasant. Faugh! How beastly!
First Peasant. I take it the climate allows of that sort of thing!
Servants' Cook. Well, daddy, so I peeped in. Dear me, what it was like! All of 'em in their natural skins! Would you believe it: old women—our mistress, only think, she's a grandmother, and even she'd gone and bared her shoulders.
Third Peasant. Oh, Lord!