Scene XIII. The same and Anísya.
Anísya (enter). Well, will you go in, or not? I am tired waiting for you. Peter, oh, Peter!
Matréna (walks away and beckons with her finger to Anisya). Well?
Anísya (walks down from the porch, to Matréna). Nothing.
Matréna. Have you looked everywhere? Under the floor?
Anísya. Nothing there, either. Maybe in the loft. He was climbing there yesterday.
Matréna. Look for it, look for it more carefully than ever, as though licking it clean with your tongue. I see he will die to-day anyway: his nails are blue, and his face is ashen gray. Is the samovár ready?
Anísya. It will boil in a minute.
Nikíta (to his mother). Good day, mother! Are you all well at home?
Matréna. Thank God we are alive and have something to eat.
Nikíta. Well, how is the master?
Matréna. Softly,—he is sitting there. (Points to the porch.)
Nikíta. Well, let him sit! What do I care?
Peter (opening his eyes). Nikíta, oh, Nikíta, come here! (Nikíta walks over to him. Anísya whispers to Matréna.)
Peter. Why did you come back so soon?
Nikíta. I have done the ploughing.
Peter. Have you ploughed up the strip back of the bridge?
