The Poor Bride

DARYA.

I am a hot-tempered woman: it boils, it boils, and suddenly a fog comes over my eyes, I feel as if I could tear someone’s throat out. But my heart is quick to forgive, and immediately it is as if nothing happened, yet she keeps grumbling, keeps grumbling... I mean, it seems that if it were not for my habit! Since I have lived here for seven years... I keep thinking: well she waves her hand.

KARPOVNA.

Living in service, my soul, is no sweet thing for anyone.

DARYA (approaches her closer and speaks almost in a whisper).

The other day she says: you are this and that! Why, she says, did you go to the shop for so long! You are hobnobbing with the shopkeepers! How, I say, madam! Who saw me? No, I say, do not allow yourself... I am, I say, a decent girl... in nothing... Ah, it seems... it is better not to speak... (After a silence). She has been nagging the young mistress to death—get married, she says... "Mother, whom shall I marry," she says. And truly, after all—whom will she marry, what kind of fool шут гороховый literally: "pea-fool," a jester or buffoon is she to marry? If only you, Karpovna, could find her a good suitor.

KARPOVNA.

I have found one, but I do not know how it will be received.

DARYA.

I think: she should find an officer. Look at what fine ones ride past us. Someone is coming. (She walks to the door; Pankratyevna enters).

SCENE VII.

PANKRATYEVNA.

Well, my dear, is the mistress at home?

DARYA.

She is at home.

PANKRATYEVNA.

Tell her that Stepanida Pankratyevna has arrived. (Darya leaves. Looking at Karpovna). Well, well, well... A crow has flown into a high-class mansion. How did you get here?