MARTHA [brings in the samovár] Oh Lord! it's certain sure he'll come home drunk. I feel it in my heart.
AKULÍNA. I'm afraid he must really have gone on the spree.
MARTHA. There it is. One struggles and struggles and kneads and bakes and cooks and spins and weaves and tends the cattle; everything on one's own shoulders. [The baby in the cradle cries] Paráshka, rock the boy. Oh dear, what a life it is for us women. And when he is drunk, nothing is right!… If one only says a word he doesn't like …
AKULÍNA [making the tea] And this is the last of the tea. Did you tell him to get some?
MARTHA. Of course. He said he would, but he'll have forgotten all about his home!… [She puts the samovár on the table].
The Tramp moves away.
AKULÍNA. Why do you leave the table? We are going to drink tea.
TRAMP. I tender my gratitude for the hearty hospitality. [Throws away the cheap cigar[3] he was smoking and comes to the table].
MARTHA. And what sort do you belong to? Peasants, or some other?
TRAMP. Well, I'm not of the peasant class, nor of the aristocracy. I'm of the double-edged class.