LYÚBA. He is not in. You must wait.
TÓNYA. And yet you are marrying Borís who understands nothing about music.
LYÚBA. Oh, surely not.
BORÍS [absently] Music? Oh no. I like music, or rather I don't dislike it. Only I prefer something simpler—I like songs.
TÓNYA. But is not this sonata lovely?
BORÍS. The chief thing is, that it is not important; and it rather hurts me, when I think of the lives men live, that so much importance is attached to music.
They all eat sweetmeats, which are standing on the table.
LISA. How nice it is to have a fiancé here and sweetmeats provided!
BORÍS. Oh that is not my doing. It's mamma's.
TÓNYA. And quite right too.