Vasíly Leoníditch. You are always at it!
[Puts on outdoor things and goes out.
Petrístchef (thoughtfully). Ma - kin - tosh, Co - co - tin.... Let's see.
[Goes upstairs.
[JACOB runs across the stage.
Theodore Ivánitch. What's the matter?
Jacob. There is no more thin bread and butter. I said....
[Exit.
Second Footman. And then our master's little son fell ill, and they sent him at once to an hotel with his nurse, and there he died without his mother.
First Footman. They don't seem to fear sin! I think you cannot escape from God anywhere.