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thatā€™s how things are, thereā€™s no reason for him to marry her. A daughter-in-lawā€™s not like a shoe, you canā€™t kick her off. AkĆ­m Excitedly. Itā€™s false, old woman, itā€™s what dā€™you call it, false; I mean, about the girl; false! ā€™Cos why? The lass is a good lass, a very good lass, you know. Iā€™m sorry, sorry for the lassie, I mean. MatryĆ³na Itā€™s an old saying: ā€œFor the wide world old Miriam grieves, and at home without bread her children she leaves.ā€ Heā€™s sorry for the girl, but not sorry for his own son! Sling her round your neck and carry her about with you! Thatā€™s enough of such empty cackle! AkĆ­m No, itā€™s not empty. MatryĆ³na There, donā€™t interrupt, let me have my say. AkĆ­m Interrupts. No, not empty! I mean, you twist things your own way, about the lass or about yourself. Twist them, I mean, to make it better for yourself; but God, what dā€™you call it, turns them His way. Thatā€™s how it is. MatryĆ³na Eh! One only wears out oneā€™s tongue with you. AkĆ­m The lass is hardworking and spruce, and keeps everything round herselfā ā€Šā ā€¦ what dā€™you call it. And in our poverty, you know, itā€™s a pair of hands, I mean; and the wedding neednā€™t cost much. But the chief thingā€™s the offence, the offence to the lass, and sheā€™s a what dā€™you call it, an orphan, you know; thatā€™s what she is, and thereā€™s the offence. MatryĆ³na Eh! theyā€™ll all tell you a tale of that sortā ā€Šā ā€¦ AnĆ­sya Daddy AkĆ­m, youā€™d better listen to us women; we can tell you a thing or two. AkĆ­m And God, how about God? Isnā€™t she a human being, the lass? A what dā€™you call itā ā€”also a human being I mean, before God. And how do you look at it? MatryĆ³na Eh!ā ā€Šā ā€¦ started off again?ā ā€Šā ā€¦ Peter Wait a bit, Daddy AkĆ­m. One canā€™t believe all these girls say, either. The ladā€™s alive, and not far away; send for him, and find out straight from him if itā€™s true. He wonā€™t wish to lose his soul. Go and call the fellow, AnĆ­sya rises and tell him his father wants him. Exit AnĆ­sya. MatryĆ³na Thatā€™s right, dear friend; youā€™ve cleared the way clean, as with water. Yes, let the lad speak for himself. Nowadays, you know, theyā€™ll not let you force a son to marry; one must first of all ask the lad. Heā€™ll never consent to marry her and disgrace himself, not for all the world. To my thinking, itā€™s best he should go on living with you and serving you as his master. And we need not take him home for the summer either; we can hire a help. If you would only give us ten roubles now, weā€™ll let him stay on. Peter All in good time. First let us settle one thing before we start another. AkĆ­m You see, Peter IgnĆ”titch, I speak. ā€™Cos why? you know how it happens. We try to fix things up as seems best for ourselves, you know; and as to God, we what dā€™you call it, we forget Him. We think itā€™s best so, turn it our own way, and lo! weā€™ve got into a fix, you know. We think it will be best, I mean; and lo! it turns out much worseā ā€”without God, I mean. Peter Of course one must not forget God. AkĆ­m It turns out worse! But when itā€™s the right wayā ā€”Godā€™s wayā ā€”it what dā€™you call it, it gives one joy; seems pleasant, I mean. So I reckon, you see, get him, the lad, I mean, get him to marry her, to keep him from sin, I mean, and let him what dā€™you call it at home, as itā€™s lawful, I mean, while I go and get the job in town. The work is of the right sortā ā€”itā€™s payinā€™, I mean. And in Godā€™s sight itā€™s what dā€™you call itā ā€”itā€™s best, I mean. Ainā€™t she an orphan? Here, for example, a year ago some fellows went and took timber from the stewardā ā€”thought theyā€™d do the steward, you know. Yes, they did the steward, but they couldnā€™t what dā€™you call itā ā€”do God, I mean. Well, and soā ā€Šā ā€¦ Enter NikĆ­ta and Nan. NikĆ­ta You called me? Sits down and takes out his tobacco-pouch. Peter In a low, reproachful voice. What are you thinking aboutā ā€”have you no manners? Your father is going to speak to you, and you sit down and fool about with tobacco. Come, get up! NikĆ­ta rises, leans carelessly with his elbow on the table, and smiles. AkĆ­m It seems thereā€™s a complaint, you know, about you, NikĆ­taā ā€”a complaint, I mean, a complaint. NikĆ­ta Whoā€™s been complaining? AkĆ­m Complaining? Itā€™s a maid, an orphan maid, complaining, I mean. Itā€™s her, you knowā ā€”a complaint against you, from MarĆ­na, I mean. NikĆ­ta Laughs. Well, thatā€™s a good one. Whatā€™s the complaint? And whoā€™s told youā ā€”she herself? AkĆ­m Itā€™s I am asking you, and you must now, what dā€™you call it, give me an answer. Have you got mixed up with the lass, I meanā ā€”mixed up, you know? NikĆ­ta I donā€™t know what you mean. Whatā€™s up? AkĆ­m Foolinā€™, I mean, what dā€™you call it? foolinā€™. Have you been foolinā€™ with her, I mean? NikĆ­ta Never mind whatā€™s been! Of course one does have some fun with a cook now and then to while away the time. One plays the concertina and gets her to dance. What of that? Peter Donā€™t shuffle, NikĆ­ta, but answer your father straight out. AkĆ­m Solemnly. You can hide it from men but not from God, NikĆ­ta. You, what dā€™you call itā ā€”think, I mean, and donā€™t tell lies. Sheā€™s an orphan; so, you see, anyone is free to insult her. An orphan, you see. So you should say whatā€™s rightest. NikĆ­ta But what if I have nothing to say? I have told you everythingā ā€”because there isnā€™t anything to tell, thatā€™s flat! Getting excited. She can go and say anything about me, same as if she was speaking of one as is dead. Why donā€™t she say anything about
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