AKÍM [shrieks] Let go! I'll not stay. I'd rather sleep under some fence than in the midst of your filth! Faugh! God forgive me! [Exit].
NIKÍTA. Here's a go!
AKÍM [reopens the door] Come to your senses, Nikíta! It's the soul that God wants! [Exit].
AKOULÍNA [takes cups] Well, shall I pour out the tea? [Takes a cup. All are silent].
MÍTRITCH [roars] Oh Lord, be merciful to me a sinner! [All start].
NIKÍTA [lies down on the bench] Oh, it's dull, it's dull! [To Akoulína] Where's the concertina?
AKOULÍNA. The concertina? He's bethought himself of it. Why, you took it to be mended. I've poured out your tea. Drink it!
NIKÍTA. I don't want it! Put out the light … Oh, how dull I feel, how dull! [Sobs].
Curtain.