Borís: I am going away.
Katerína: Where are you going?
Borís: Far away, Kátya, to Siberia.
Katerína: Take me with you, away from here.
Borís: I cannot, Kátya. I am not going of my free will; my uncle is sending me, he has the horses waiting for me already; I only begged for a minute, I wanted to take a last farewell of the spot where we used to see each other.
Katerína: Go, and God be with you! Don’t grieve over me. At first your heart will be heavy, perhaps, poor boy, but then you will begin to forget.
Borís: Why talk of me! I am free at least; how about you? what of your husband’s mother?
Katerína: She tortures me, she locks me up. She tells everyone, even my husband: “Don’t trust her, she is sly and deceitful.” They all follow me about all day long, and laugh at me before my face. At every word they reproach me with you.
Borís: And your husband?
Katerína: One minute he’s kind, one minute he’s angry, but he’s drinking all the while. He is loathsome to me, loathsome; his kindness is worse than his blows.