LIPA
Go away from here.
[The Friar returns.
SAVVA (looking into the distance with narrowed eyes)
It's nice out there, isn't it, Vassya? Whose woods are they?
Vazykin's? Have I ever been there with you?
FRIAR (gleefully)
Yes, they're Vazykin's. I was there yesterday, Mr. Savva. I caught a whole handful of fireflies, but as I ran—(He grows sorrowful at the memory) My, how they are shouting! What are they up to anyway? Did you say they killed three, Mr. Tropinin? Was that what you said?
SAVVA (coolly)
Yes, three.