The Poor Bride

How can it be that no one pleases you, I do not know; it is just a whim, Masha.

You know, Mother, that I have no whims, it is simply that no one pleases me, and that is all there is to it. And what is so complicated about this: whoever has asked for my hand, remember well, what kind of men are they?

What is to be done, Mashenka? What is to be done, my friend? Where are we to find you handsome men? Nowadays, good suitors all seek money; they do not want to see that you are a beauty. Where have I hidden my snuffbox, I have no idea! Look there on the table... Wait, here, in my pocket. It is as if one could not love you! Young men have only wind in their heads. And, to be honest, you are very picky. And do think, we do not have mountains of gold; there is no reason to be haughty.

Very well, very well.

And what is "very well"?

I will think about it.

And what is there to think about, tell me, do me a favor. You will think so much that you will remain a spinster.

And what is the misfortune in that?

You are still a fool, that is what. (Sits, pouting. Silence). Why, for God’s sake, won’t Platon Markych come! I do not know what I am to do. There was a stocking, where is the stocking now?

Here, Mother, is the stocking. (She hands it to her).