THE TARTAR. Oh—people are fools! It’s too bad . . .
THE BARON. I shall not permit any one to ridicule me! I have proofs—documents—damn you!
SATINE. Forget it! Forget about your grandfather’s carriages! You can’t drive anywhere in a carriage of the past!
THE BARON. How dare she—just the same—?
NASTYA. Just imagine! How dare I—?
SATINE. You see—she does dare! How is she any worse than you are? Although, surely, in her past there wasn’t even a father and mother, let alone carriages and a grandfather . . .
THE BARON [quieting down] Devil take you—you do know how to argue dispassionately—and I, it seems—I’ve no will-power . . .
SATINE. Acquire some—it’s useful . . . [Pause] Nastya! Are you going to the hospital?
NASTYA. What for?