ut nobody knows about it. I haven't spoken to any one
about my sorrow.

GUSLIN. Tell me about it.

MITYA. [_Waving his hand_] What for?

GUSLIN. Yes, tell me; don't put on airs!

MITYA. Whether I tell you or not, you can't help me!

GUSLIN. How do you know?

MITYA. [_Walking toward_ GUSLIN] Nobody can help me--I am a lost man! I've
fallen wildly in love with Lyubov Gordeyevna.

GUSLIN. What's the matter with you, Mitya? Whatever do you mean?

MITYA. Well, anyhow, it's a fact.

GUSLIN. You'd better put it out of your head, Mitya. Nothing can ever come
of that, so there's no use thinking about it.

MITYA. Though I know all this, one cannot control one's heart. "To love is
most easy, one cannot forget." [_He speaks with violent gestures_] "I love
the beautiful girl more than family, more than race; but evil people forbid
me, and they bid me cease."

GUSLIN. Yes, indeed; but you must stop it! Now Anna Ivanovna is my equal;
she has no money, and I haven't a kopek--and even so uncle forbids me to
marry. It's no use for you to think of doing so. You'll get it into your
head and then it'll be still harder for you.

MITYA. [_Declaiming_] "What of all things is most cruel? The most cruel
thing is love." [_Walking about the room_.] Yasha, have you read Koltsov?

GUSLIN. Yes, why?

MITYA. How he describes all these feelings!

GUSLIN. He does describe them exactly.

MITYA. Exactly, to perfection. [_Walking about the room_] Yasha!

GUSLIN. What?

MITYA. I myself have composed a song.

GUSLIN. You?

MITYA. Yes.

GUSLIN. Let's make up a tune for it, and we'll sing it.

MITYA. Good! Here, take this [_gives him a paper_] and I'll write a
little--I have some work: most likely Gordey Karpych will be asking me
about it. [_Sits and writes_.

GUSLIN _takes the guitar and begins to pick out a tune_. RAZLYULYAYEV
_comes in with an accordion_.

SCENE VI

_The same and_ RAZLYULYAYEV

RAZLYULYAYEV. Hello, boys! [_Plays on the accordion and begins to dance_.

GUSLIN. What a fool! What did you buy that accordion for?

RAZLYULYAYEV. Why, I bought it to play on, of course--this way. [_Plays_.

GUSLIN. Well, that's fine music, I must say! Stop, I tell you!

RAZLYULYAYEV. What! Do you think I'll stop? I'll stop when I want to.--What
airs! Haven't I got any money? [_Slapping his pocket_] It chinks! If we go
on a spree--then it's some spree!

"One mountain is high,
And another is low;
One darli