AFÓNYA. What do you mean by "different sort"! As it is, brother is obliged to work for them, feed and clothe them, while they give themselves airs. There isn't a better man in the world than brother, and they have made him their drudge. ARKHÍP. How do you know? Your brother himself may not wish her to work. AFÓNYA. But if she doesn't work then she'd better not put on airs. Since she married a commoner she should be one like the rest of us. Are we a sort of accursed people? Lord, pardon me for saying it! We too have our communal society and we pay taxes and take part in other obligations. My brother gets money by sweat and toil, and contributes it to the community. She might stay at home and play the lady, but if she marries, then she should know that there is one master in the house--her husband. You see, grandfather, I see and hear everything, since they are so shameless as not to pay any heed to me. Brother gives her kerchiefs and silk dresses, while she and her sister laugh at him and call him a fool. I hear it all; it is bitter to me, grandfather, bitter. I began to speak to brother about it, but he scolded me. [_Pause_] Grandfather, that is why I can't sleep. What I see by day appears to me at night, gnaws at my heart, and I weep all night. I shan't live long. My health cannot improve now because my temper is altogether too violent. If God would only take me quickly so that I should have less suffering! ARKHÍP. Don't say such sinful things! You have to live and live! You see, Afónya, I have nothing to live for, yet I keep on living. God knows the reason of all this. What a man I am! I never see the fair sun or the bright moon, and likewise I shall never see the green meadows or the cool waters and all creatures of God. But hardest of all is that I cannot see the bright face of man. AFÓNYA. It is a pity, grandfather, that you cannot see; but I'm tired of everything, nothing comforts me. ARKHÍP. The reason you are not comforted is that your heart is not at peace. Look at God's world longer and more often, and less at men and women, and you will become lighter of heart; you will sleep at night and have pleasant dreams. Where are we sitting now, Afónya? AFÓNYA. On the bank, grandfather, beside Prokófyevna's house. ARKHÍP. Is the bridge at our right? AFÓNYA. Yes, grandfather. ARKHÍP. Is the sun at our left? AFÓNYA. Yes, grandfather, but it's almost set. ARKHÍP. In a cloud? AFÓNYA. No, it is clear. The twilight is so brilliant. We'll have fine weather. ARKHÍP. That's it, that's it. I feel it myself. The air is so light and the breeze so fresh that I do not want to leave. Beautiful, Afónya, beautiful is God's world. Now the dew will fall and fragrance will rise from every flower; and yonder the stars will come out; and above the stars, Afónya, is our merciful Creator. If we remembered more constantly that He is merciful, we ourselves should be more merciful.