ALYOSHKA. Just auntie’s husband!
BUBNOFF. One of your nieces is in jail—the other one’s dying . . .
MIEDVIEDIEFF [proudly] You lie! She’s not dying—she disappeared—without trace . . .
[Satine roars.]
BUBNOFF. All the same, brothers—a man without nieces isn’t an uncle!
ALYOSHKA. Your Excellency! Listen to the drummer of the retired billygoats’ brigade! [Sings]
“My sweetheart has money,
I haven’t a cent.
But I’m a cheerful,
Merry lad!”
Oh—isn’t it cold!
[Enter Zob. From now until the final curtain men and women drift in, undress, and stretch out on the bunks, grumbling.]