Leoníd Fyódoritch. Gentlemen! Silence, if you please!
[Silence. SIMON licks the matches on his fingers and rubs his knuckles with them. Leoníd Fyódoritch. A light! Do you see the light?
Sahátof. A light? Yes, yes, I see; but allow me....
Fat Lady. Where? Where? Oh, dear, I did not see it! Ah, there it is. Oh!...
Professor (whispers to LEONÍD FYÓDORITCH, and points to GROSSMAN, who is moving). Do you notice how he vibrates? It is the dual influence.
[The light appears again.
Leoníd Fyódoritch (to the PROFESSOR). It must be he—you know!
Sahátof. Who?
Leoníd Fyódoritch. A Greek, Nicholas. It is his light. Don't you think so, Alexéy Vladímiritch?
Sahátof. Who is this Greek, Nicholas?