SERVANTS' COOK. There's enough to dam a mill-pool, with the likes of us, as perish! 'Cos why, every one is tempted by the easy life and the good food. And see there,--as soon as one has tasted the good food she goes and slips. And once she's slipped, they don't want her, but get a fresh one in her place. So it was with dear little Nataly; she also slipped, and they turned her out. She had a child and fell ill, and died in the hospital last spring. And what a girl she used to be! THIRD PEASANT. Oh Lord! People are weak; they ought to be pitied. DISCHARGED COOK. Those devils pity? No fear! [He hangs his legs down from the oven] I have stood roasting myself by the kitchen range for thirty years, and now that I am not wanted, I may go and die like a dog.... Pity indeed!... FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. It's the old circumstances. SECOND PEASANT. While they drank and they fed, you were "curly head." When they'd finished the prog, 'twas "Get out, mangy dog!" THIRD PEASANT. Oh Lord! DISCHARGED COOK. Much you know. What is "Sautey a la Bongmont"? What is "Bavassary"? Oh, the things I could make! Think of it! The Emperor tasted my work, and now the devils want me no longer. But I am not going to stand it! SERVANTS' COOK. Now then, stop that noise, mind.... Get up right into the corner, so that no one can see you, or else Theodore Ivánitch or some one may come in, and both you and me'll be turned out! [Silence]. JACOB. And do you know my part of the country? I'm from Voznesénsky. SECOND PEASANT. Not know it? Why, it's no more'n ten miles from our village; not _that_ across the ford! Do you cultivate any land there? JACOB. My brother does, and I send my wages. Though I live here, I am dying for a sight of home. FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. SECOND PEASANT. Then Anísim is your brother? JACOB. Own brother. He lives at the farther end of the village. SECOND PEASANT. Of course, I know; his is the third house. Enter Tánya, running. TÁNYA. Jacob, what are you doing, amusing yourself here? She is calling you! JACOB. I'm coming; but what's up? TÁNYA. Frisk is barking; it's hungry. And she's scolding you. "How cruel he is," she says. "He's no feeling," she says. "It's long past Frisk's dinner-time, and he has not brought her food!" [Laughs]. JACOB [rises to go] Oh, she's cross? What's going to happen now, I wonder? SERVANTS' COOK. Here, take the cabbage with you. JACOB. All right, give it here. [Takes basin, and exit]. FIRST PEASANT. Who is going to dine now? TÁNYA. Why, the dog! It's her dog. [Sits down and takes up the tea-pot] Is there any more tea? I've brought some. [Puts fresh tea into the tea-pot.] FIRST PEASANT. Dinner for a dog? TÁNYA. Yes, of course! They prepare a special cutlet for her; it must not be too fat. And I do the washing--the dog's washing, I mean. THIRD PEASANT. Oh Lord! TÁNYA. It's like that gentleman who had a funeral for his dog. SECOND PEASANT. What's that?