IVÁN [to Fédya] It's wrong, sir, what you're doing! You're ruining the wench! Oh, but it's wrong … You're doing a dirty deed.
NASTÁSIA. Put on your shawl! March at once!… Running away like this! What can I say to the choir? Gallivanting with a beggar—what can you get out of him?
MÁSHA. I don't gallivant! I love this gentleman, that's all. I've not left the choir. I'll go on singing, and what …
IVÁN. Say another word, and I'll pull the hair off your head!… Slut!… Who behaves like that? Not your father, nor your mother, nor your aunt!… It's bad, sir! We were fond of you—often and often we sang to you without pay. We pitied you, and what have you done?
NASTÁSIA. You've ruined our daughter for nothing … our own, our only daughter, the light of our eyes, our priceless jewel—you've trodden her into the mire, that's what you've done! You've no conscience.
FÉDYA. Nastásia Ivánovna, you suspect me falsely. Your daughter is like a sister to me. I care for her honour. You must think no evil … but I love her! What is one to do?
IVÁN. But you didn't love her when you had money! If you'd then subscribed ten thousand roubles or so to the choir, you might have had her honourably. But now you've squandered everything, and carry her off by stealth! It's a shame, sir, a shame!
MÁSHA. He has not carried me off! I came to him myself, and if you take me away now, I shall come back again. I love him, and there's an end of it! My love is stronger than all your locks … I won't!
NASTÁSIA. Come, Másha dearest! Come, my own! Don't sulk. You've done wrong, and now come along.
IVÁN. Now then, you've talked enough! March! [Seizes her hand] Excuse us, sir! [Exit the three gipsies].