ng is far,
And another is near."

Mitya! [_Strikes_ MITYA _on the shoulder_] Mitya, why are you sitting
still?

MITYA. I have some work to do. [_Continues to work_.

RAZLYULYAYEV. Mitya! Say, Mitya, I'm on a spree, my boy! Really, I am. Oh,
come on! [_Sings, "One mountain is high," etc_.] Mitya! Say, Mitya, I'm
going on a spree for the whole holiday season--then I'll set to work,
upon my word I will! Haven't I got any money? There it is! And I'm not
drunk.--Oh, no, such a spree!--so jolly!

MITYA. Well, go on a spree as much as you like.

RAZLYULYAYEV. And after the holidays I shall marry!--Upon my word I shall
marry! I'll get a rich girl.

GUSLIN. Now, then, listen; how does this sound?

RAZLYULYAYEV. Sing it, sing it! I'll listen.

GUSLIN. [_Sings_]

"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_]