Second Peasant. I want to ask you something: that girl of Aksínya's as comes from our village and is living here. How is she? What is she like? How is she living—I mean, does she live honest?
Jacob. She's a nice girl; one can say nothing but good of her.
Servants' Cook. I'll tell you straight, daddy; I know this here establishment out and out, and if you mean to have Tánya for your son's wife—be quick about it, before she comes to grief, or else she'll not escape!
Jacob. Yes, that's true. A while ago we had a girl here, Nataly. She was a good girl too. And she was lost without rhyme or reason. No better than that chap!
[Pointing to the old COOK.
Servants' Cook. There's enough to dam a mill-pool, with the likes of us, as perish! 'Cos why, every one is tempted by the easy life and the good food. And see there,—as soon as one has tasted the good food she goes and slips. And once she's slipped, they don't want her, but get a fresh one in her place. So it was with dear little Nataly; she also slipped, and they turned her out. She had a child and fell ill, and died in the hospital last spring. And what a girl she used to be!
Third Peasant. Oh, Lord! People are weak; they ought to be pitied.
Discharged Cook. Those devils pity? No fear! (He hangs his legs down from the oven.) I have stood roasting myself by the kitchen range for thirty years, and now that I am not wanted, I may go and die like a dog.... Pity indeed!...
First Peasant. That's just it. It's the old circumstances.
Second Peasant.