ANNA. Grand-dad! Talk to me, darling—I feel so sick . . .
LUKA. Never mind—it’s always like this before you die, little dove—never mind, dear! Just have faith! Once you’re dead, you’ll have peace—always. There’s nothing to be afraid of—nothing. Quiet! Peace! Lie quietly! Death wipes out everything. Death is kindly. You die—and you rest—that’s what they say. It is true, dear! Because—where can we find rest on this earth?
[Pepel enters. He is slightly drunk, dishevelled, and sullen. Sits down on bunk near door, and remains silent and motionless.]
ANNA. And how is it—there? More suffering?
LUKA. Nothing of the kind! No suffering! Trust me! Rest—nothing else! They’ll lead you into God’s presence, and they’ll say: “Dear God! Behold! Here is Anna, Thy servant!”
MIEDVIEDIEFF [sternly] How do you know what they’ll say up there? Oh, you . . .
[Pepel, on hearing Miedviedieff’s voice, raises his head and listens.]
LUKA. Apparently I do know, Mr. Sergeant!
MIEDVIEDIEFF [conciliatory] Yes—it’s your own affair—though I’m not exactly a sergeant—yet—