oad! As to being a donkey, you wait till
I've given you a clout on the ear and you'll howl worse than the wind.
Donkey yourself! Fool! [Pause] Scum!

NAZAROVNA. The old man may be saying a prayer, or giving up his soul
to God, and here are these unclean ones wrangling with one another and
saying all sorts of... Have shame on yourselves!

FEDYA. Here, you cabbage-stalk, you keep quiet, even if you are in a
public-house. Just you behave like everybody else.

BORTSOV. What am I to do? What will become of me? How can I make him
understand? What else can I say to him? [To TIHON] The blood's boiling
in my chest! Uncle Tihon! [Weeps] Uncle Tihon!

SAWA. [Groans] I've got shooting-pains in my leg, like bullets of
fire.... Little mother, pilgrim.

EFIMOVNA. What is it, little father?

SAVVA. Who's that crying?

EFIMOVNA. The gentleman.

SAVVA. Ask him to shed a tear for me, that I might die in Vologda.
Tearful prayers are heard.

BORTSOV. I'm not praying, grandfather! These aren't tears! Just juice!
My soul is crushed; and the juice is running. [Sits by SAVVA] Juice!
But you wouldn't understand! You, with your darkened brain, wouldn't
understand. You people are all in the dark!

SAVVA. Where will you find those who live in the light?

BORTSOV. They do exist, grandfather.... They would understand!

SAVVA. Yes, yes, dear friend.... The saints lived in the light.... They
understood all our griefs.... You needn't even tell them.... and they'll
understand.... Just by looking at your eyes.... And then you'll have
such peace, as if you were never in grief at all--it will all go!

FEDYA. And have you ever seen any saints?

SAVVA. It has happened, young man.... There are many of all sorts on
this earth. Sinners, and servants of God.

BORTSOV. I don't understand all this.... [Gets up quickly] What's the
use of talking when you don't understand, and what sort of a brain have
I now? I've only an instinct, a thirst! [Goes quickly to the counter]
Tihon, take my coat! Understand? [Tries to take it off] My coat...

TIHON. And what is there under your coat? [Looks under it] Your naked
body? Don't take it off, I shan't have it.... I'm not going to burden my
soul with a sin.

[Enter MERIK.]

BORTSOV. Very well, I'll take the sin on myself! Do you agree?

MERIK. [In silence takes of his outer cloak and remains in a sleeveless
jacket. He carries an axe in his belt] A vagrant may sweat where a bear
will freeze. I am hot. [Puts