Tánya. All right, Theodore Ivánitch.
[Exit.
Theodore Ivánitch (sits down in an easy-chair). They're educated and learned—Alexéy Vladímiritch now, he's a professor—and yet sometimes one can't help doubting very much. The people's rude superstitions are being abolished: hobgoblins, sorcerers, witches.... But if one considers it, is not this equally superstitious? How is it possible that the souls of the dead should come and talk, and play the guitar? No! Some one is fooling them, or they are fooling themselves. And as to this business with Simon—it's simply incomprehensible. (Looks at an album.) Here's their spiritualistic album. How is it possible to photograph a spirit? But here is the likeness of a Turk and Leoníd Fyódoritch sitting by.... Extraordinary human weakness!
[Enter LEONÍD FYÓDORITCH.
Leoníd Fyódoritch. Is it all ready?
Theodore Ivánitch (rising leisurely). Quite ready. (Smiles.) Only I don't know about your new medium. I hope he won't disgrace you, Leoníd Fyódoritch.
Leoníd Fyódoritch. No, I and Alexéy Vladímiritch have tested him. He is a wonderfully powerful medium!
Theodore Ivánitch. Well, I don't know. But is he clean enough? I don't suppose you have thought of ordering him to wash his hands? It might be rather inconvenient.
Leoníd Fyódoritch. His hands? Oh yes! They're not clean, you think?
Theodore Ivánitch. What can you expect? He's a peasant, and there will be ladies present, and Márya Vasílevna.