ferent manner. These fools, my dear, have to be enticed. You have to pretend to agree with them, but the moment it comes to business, you switch them off. A woman, you see, comes a-flying down from the oven, having thought out a hundred thoughts—so how is he to find it out? "Yes, old man," says I, "that is good; only we must consider it well. Come," says I, "let us go to our son, and let us consider the matter with Peter Ignátych. Let us hear what he has to say." And this is why we have come.
Anísya. Oh, aunty, what will happen now? If his father commands him?
Matréna. Commands? To the dogs with his command. Don't have any fears! It will not happen. I will soon thresh out the whole matter with your old man, so that nothing will be left of it. This is the very reason why I have come along with him. How stupid it would be for me to have my son marry a slut, while he is living in happiness here, and happiness is ahead of him! I am not such a fool as all that.
Anísya. Marína has been coming to see him here, too. Would you believe it, aunty,—when I was told that he was to get married, I felt as though somebody had stuck a knife into my heart. I thought he had a liking for her.
Matréna. Not at all, my dear. He is not such a fool. He would not think of loving a homeless vagabond. You must know Nikíta is a clever fellow. But you, my dear, have no fear! We sha'n't take him away in a lifetime. We will not marry him off. As long as you let him have money, let him stay here.
Anísya. I feel that if Nikíta went away I should not want to live.
Matréna. That is the way with young people! And it is no wonder. You are a healthy young woman, and have to live with such a worthless rag—
Anísya. Believe me, aunty, I am tired, dreadfully
