MÍTRITCH. Cover up your head, I tell you!
Enter Nikíta, followed by Matryóna.
NIKÍTA. What have they done with me? What have they done with me?
MATRYÓNA. Have a drop, honey; have a drop of drink! What's the matter? [Fetches the spirits and sets the bottle before him].
NIKÍTA. Give it here! Perhaps the drink will help me!
MATRYÓNA. Mind! They're not asleep! Here you are, have a drop!
NIKÍTA. What does it all mean? Why did you plan it? You might have taken it somewhere!
MATRYÓNA [whispers] Sit still a bit and drink a little more, or have a smoke. It will ease your thoughts!
NIKÍTA. My own mother! My turn seems to have come! How it began to whimper, and how the little bones crunched … krr … I'm not a man now!
MATRYÓNA. Eh, now, what's the use of talking so silly! Of course it does seem fearsome at night, but wait till the daylight comes, and a day or two passes, and you'll forget to think of it! [Goes up to Nikíta and puts her hand on his shoulder].