Tánya. Never mind, Theodore Ivánitch, let them sleep with the coachman.
Theodore Ivánitch. How can we do that? The coachman was complaining as it is, that his place is full of dogs.
Tánya. Well, then, the porter's lodge.
Theodore Ivánitch. And supposing it's found out?
Tánya. It won't be found out! Don't trouble about that, Theodore Ivánitch. How can one turn them out now, at night? They'll not find anywhere to go to.
Theodore Ivánitch. Well, do as you please. Only they must go away from here.
[Exit.
[PEASANTS take their bags.
Discharged Cook. Oh those damned fiends! It's all their fat! Fiends!
Servants' Cook. You be quiet there. Thank goodness they didn't see you!