Foot. Yours, sir! Madame told us to put it in the carriage with her, and took it away. Anyoùtka and I held out as long as we could; but what could we do? I really don’t know what to think of it!
Paul. Mamma, that’s more than a joke.
Foot. It’s a disgrace, sir! I’ve been in service for many years (clasps his hands), but I never saw such a thing, never! Paul Petròvich! Think of it!
Paul. There, get along with you!
Foot. And to have to say such a thing to people! It’s enough to make one die for shame. I never heard of such a thing, never! (Exit.)
Paul. (Sits down and looks fixedly at his mother). Maman!
Madame P. Women have no hearts nowadays, no hearts at all.
Paul. Permit me, Maman, to thank you, now, for two things: firstly, for squandering my fortune; and, secondly, for bringing me up in such a way that I am fit for nothing. I only know how to spend money. And where is the money to spend? Where? (Passionately.) Where is the money? Give it to me! You liked to see me, at eight years old, in a velvet tunic, dancing better than all the other children in Moscow, and knowing how to make love to the little girls. You liked to see me at sixteen, looking so well on horseback! You looked on proudly when I used to gallop about our ancestral fields with my tutor, your favourite! You enjoyed all that. After such an education, one must have money, if one would play a leading part in our society. Why did you squander everything? Where are our estates gone? Where are our peasants gone? What is to become of us now? Now, perhaps, you will have the pleasure of seeing me dismissed from the service, a vagrant, a card-sharper, and maybe even worse! What am I to do? I can’t marry again, with a wife living! (Covers his face with his hands.)
Curtain Falls.