it! We too have our communal
society and we pay taxes and take part in other obligations. My brother
gets money by sweat and toil, and contributes it to the community. She
might stay at home and play the lady, but if she marries, then she
should know that there is one master in the house--her husband. You see,
grandfather, I see and hear everything, since they are so shameless as not
to pay any heed to me. Brother gives her kerchiefs and silk dresses, while
she and her sister laugh at him and call him a fool. I hear it all; it is
bitter to me, grandfather, bitter. I began to speak to brother about it,
but he scolded me. [_Pause_] Grandfather, that is why I can't sleep. What I
see by day appears to me at night, gnaws at my heart, and I weep all night.
I shan't live long. My health cannot improve now because my temper is
altogether too violent. If God would only take me quickly so that I should
have less suffering!

ARKHIP. Don't say such sinful things! You have to live and live! You see,
Afonya, I have nothing to live for, yet I keep on living. God knows the
reason of all this. What a man I am! I never see the fair sun or the bright
moon, and likewise I shall never see the green meadows or the cool waters
and all creatures of God. But hardest of all is that I cannot see the
bright face of man.

AFONYA. It is a pity, grandfather, that you cannot see; but I'm tired of
everything, nothing comforts me.

ARKHIP. The reason you are not comforted is that your heart is not at
peace. Look at God's world longer and more often, and less at men and
women, and you will become lighter of heart; you will sleep at night and
have pleasant dreams. Where are we sitting now, Afonya?

AFONYA. On the bank, grandfather, beside Prokofyevna's house.

ARKHIP. Is the bridge at our right?

AFONYA. Yes, grandfather.

ARKHIP. Is the sun at our left?

AFONYA. Yes, grandfather, but it's almost set.

ARKHIP. In a cloud?

AFONYA. No, it is clear. The twilight is so brilliant. We'll have fine
weather.

ARKHIP. That's it, that's it. I feel it myself. The air is so light and the
breeze so fresh that I do not want to leave. Beautiful, Afonya, beautiful
is God's world. Now the dew will fall and fragrance will rise from every
flower; and yonder the stars will come out; and above the stars, Afonya, is
our merciful Creator. If we remembered more constantly that He is merciful,
we ourselves should be more merciful.

AFONYA. I will try to subdue my