MRS. POPOV. The man! [_She laughs ironically._] The man is true and faithful in love! Well, that is something new. [_She laughs bitterly._] How can you make such a statement? Men true and faithful! As long as we have gone as far as we have I may as well say that of all the men I have known my husband was the best--I loved him passionately with all my soul, as only a young, sensible woman may love, I gave him my youth, my happiness, my fortune, my life. I worshiped him like a heathen. And what happened? This best of all men betrayed me right and left in every possible fashion. After his death I found his desk filled with a collection of love letters. While he was alive he left me alone for months--it is horrible to even think about it--he made love to other women in my very presence, he wasted my money and made fun of my feelings,--and in spite of all that I trusted him and was true to him. And more than that, he is dead and I am still true to him. I have buried myself within these four walls and I shall wear this mourning to my grave. SMIRNOV [_laughing disrespectfully_]. Mourning! What on earth do you take me for? As if I didn't know why you wore this black domino and why you buried yourself within these four walls. As if I didn't know! Such a secret! So romantic! Some knight will pass the castle, will gaze up at the windows and think to himself: "Here dwells the mysterious Tamara who, for love of her husband, has buried herself within four walls." Oh, I understand the art! MRS. POPOV [_springing up_]. What? What do you mean by saying such things to me? SMIRNOV. You have buried yourself alive, but meanwhile you have not forgotten to powder your nose! MRS. POPOV. How dare you speak to me so? SMIRNOV. Don't scream at me, please, I'm not the manager. Just let me call things by their right names. I am not a woman and I am accustomed to speak out what I think. So please don't scream. MRS. POPOV. I'm not screaming. It is you who are doing the screaming. Please leave me, I beg of you. SMIRNOV. Pay me my money and I'll leave. MRS. POPOV. I won't give you the money. SMIRNOV. You won't? You won't give me my money? MRS. POPOV. I don't care what you do. You won't get a kopeck! Leave me alone. SMIRNOV. As I haven't the pleasure of being either your husband or your fiancé please don't make a scene. [_He sits down._] I can't stand it. MRS. POPOV [_breathing hard_]. You are going to sit down? SMIRNOV. I already have. MRS. POPOV. Kindly leave the house! SMIRNOV. Give me the money. MRS. POPOV. I don't care to speak with impudent men. Leave! [_Pause._] You aren't going? SMIRNOV. No. MRS. POPOV. No? SMIRNOV. No. MRS. POPOV. Very well. [_She rings the bell._] [_Enter Luka._] MRS. POPOV. Luka, show the gentleman out. LUKA [_going to Smirnov_]. Sir, why don't you leave when you are ordered? What do you want-- SMIRNOV [_jumping up_]. Whom do you think you are talking to? I'll grind you to powder.