"Is naught so hard and evil As to be fatherless; Than slavery more grievous And sharper than distress.

All in the world make holiday, But lonely you must pine.

Your mind is wild and drunken, But it came not from the wine.

Youth shall not do your pleasure, Beauty no healing bear.

Your sweetheart does not comb your locks, But your harsh stepdame, Care."

_During all this time_ RAZLYULYaYEV _stands as if rooted to the ground, and listens with emotion; when the song is finished all are silent_.

RAZLYULYaYEV. Good! Very good! It's awfully sad; it takes hold of one's heart. [_Sighs_] Ah, Yasha! play something cheerful; that's enough of this stuff--to-day's a holiday. [_Sings_.

"Who does not love a hussar!

Life without love would be sad!"

Play the tune, Yasha.

GuSLIN _plays the tune_.

MiTYA. That's enough of your fooling. Come, now, let's sit down in a circle and sing in a low tone.

RAZLYULYaYEV. All right. [_They sit down_.

GuSLIN. [_Begins to sing_; MiTYA _and_ RAZLYULYaYEV _join in_]

"Now my young, my young lads, You my friends...."

_Enter_ GORDeY KaRPYCH; _all stand up and stop singing_.

SCENE VII

_The same and_ GORDeY KaRPYCH

GORDeY KaRPYCH. What's all this screeching! Bawling like so many peasants!

[_To_ MiTYA] And you here! You're not living here in a peasant's hut! What a dram-shop! See that this sort of thing doesn't go on in the future!

[_Goes to the table and inspects the papers_] Why are these papers all scattered about?

MiTYA. I was looking over the accounts, sir. GORDeY KaRPYCH. [_Takes the book by Koltsov, and the copy-book with verses_] And this, too, what's this rubbish?

MiTYA. I was copying these poems of Koltsov's to pa.s.s the time away, since it's a holiday. GORDeY KaRPYCH. You are sentimental for a poor lad!

MiTYA. I just study for my own education, in order to understand things.

GORDeY KaRPYCH. Education! Do you know what education is?--And yet you keep on talking! You ought to get yourself a new coat! For when you come up-stairs to us and there are guests, it's a disgrace! What do you do with your money?

MiTYA. I send it to my mother because she is old and has nowhere to get any.

GORDeY KaRPYCH. Send it to your mother! You ought to educate yourself first; G.o.d knows what your mother needs! She wasn't brought up in luxury; most likely she used to look after the cows herself.

MiTYA. It's better that I should suffer than that my mother should be in any want at all.

GORDeY KaRPYCH. This is simply disgusting! If you don't know yourself how to observe decency, then sit in your hovel! If you haven't anything to wear, then don't have any fancies! You write verses, you wish to educate yourself--and you go about looking like a factory hand! Does education consist in this, in singing idiotic songs? You idiot! [_Through his teeth and looking askance at_ MiTYA] Fool! [_Is silent_] Don't you dare to show yourself in that suit up-stairs. Listen, I tell you! [_To_ RAZLYULYaYEV]

And you too! Your father, to all appearances, rakes up money with a shovel, and you go about in this Russian smock.

RAZLYULYaYEV. What do you say! It's new--French goods--I ordered it from Moscow--from an acquaintance--twenty rubles a yard! Do you think I ought to go about in a bob-tailed coat, like Franz Fedorych at the apothecary's!

Why, they all tease him there!--the deuce of a coat! What's the use of making people laugh! GORDeY KaRPYCH. Much you know! It's hopeless to expect anything of you! You yourself are an idiot, and your father hasn't much more sense--he always goes about in dirty old clothes. You live like ignorant fools, and like fools you will die.

RAZLYULYaYEV. That's enough!

GORDeY KaRPYCH. What?

RAZLYULYaYEV. That's enough, I say!

GORDeY KaRPYCH. Clown! You don't even know how to talk straight! It's simply waste of words to speak to you--like shooting peas against a wall--to waste words on such as you, fools! [_Goes out_.

SCENE VIII

_The same without_ TORTSoV

RAZLYULYaYEV. Just look! How savage! What a rage he's in! Oh, we're awfully scared of you--you bet we are!

MiTYA. [_To_ GuSLIN] There, that's the sort of life I lead! That's the sort of thing I have to put up with!

RAZLYULYaYEV. It'll drive you to drink--upon my word, it'll drive you to drink! But you'd better stop thinking about it. [_Sings_.

"One mountain is high, And another is low; One darling is far, And another is near."

_Enter_ LYUBoV GORDeYEVNA, ANNA IVaNOVNA, MaSHA, _and_ LiZA.

SCENE IX

_The same and_ LYUBoV GORDeYEVNA, ANNA IVaNOVNA, MaSHA, _and_ LiZA.

ANNA IVaNOVNA. Peace, honest company!

RAZLYULYaYEV. I welcome you to our shanty.

MiTYA. Our respects! Please come in! What good wind brings you here?

ANNA IVaNOVNA. No wind--we just took it into our heads and came. Gordey Karpych has gone out, and Pelageya Egorovna has gone to lie down, so now we are free! Be as jolly as you please!