Fèkla. Bless me! It must be they!
Arìna. Who?
Fèkla. They.... Some of the suitors.
Agàfia (screams). Oh!
Arìna. Holy Saints! Have mercy on us sinners! The room’s in such a muddle! (Catches up all the things on the table, and runs about the room.) And the table-cloth! Just look at the table-cloth! It’s perfectly black. Douniàshka! Douniàshka! (Enter Douniàshka.) Bring a clean table-cloth—quick! (Pulls off table-cloth and rushes about the room.)
Agàfia. Oh, aunt! What shall I do? I’m half undressed!
Arìna. Little mother! Run and dress, quick! (Rushes frantically about room. Douniàshka brings table-cloth. Door-bell rings.) Run! Make haste! Say “Directly.” (Douniàshka exit, and calls without “Directly.”)
Agàfia. Auntie, my dress isn’t ironed!
Arìna. Oh! Merciful Heaven! Spare us! Put on another.
Fèkla (running in). What are you standing about for? Agàfia Tikhònovna! Little mother! Make haste! (Door-bell rings). There! there! he’s waiting all this time.