KVASHNYA. Well, well! You poor soul . . . how’s the pain in the chest—any better?
THE BARON. Kvashnya! Time to go to market. . . .
KVASHNYA. We’ll go presently. [To Anna] Like some hot dumplings?
ANNA. No, thanks. Why should I eat?
KVASHNYA. You must eat. Hot food—good for you! I’ll leave you some in a cup. Eat them when you feel like it. Come on, sir! [To Kleshtch] You evil spirit! [Goes into kitchen]
ANNA [coughing] Lord, Lord . . .
THE BARON [painfully pushing forward Nastya’s head] Throw it away—little fool!
NASTYA [muttering] Leave me alone—I don’t bother you . . .
[The Baron follows Kvashnya, whistling.]