KUSMA. Over seventy years! You’ll soon come to crow’s years. [Looks at BORTSOV] And what sort of a raisin is this? [Staring at BORTSOV] Sir! [BORTSOV recognizes KUSMA and retires in confusion to a corner of the room, where he sits on a bench] Semyon Sergeyevitch! Is that you, or isn’t it? Eh? What are you doing in this place? It’s not the sort of place for you, is it? BORTSOV. Be quiet! MERIK. [To KUSMA] Who is it? KUSMA. A miserable sufferer. [Paces irritably by the counter] Eh? In an inn, my goodness! Tattered! Drunk! I’m upset, brothers... upset.... [To MERIK, in an undertone] It’s my master... our landlord. Semyon Sergeyevitch and Mr. Bortsov.... Have you ever seen such a state? What does he look like? Just... it’s the drink that brought him to this.... Give me some more! [Drinks] I come from his village, Bortsovka; you may have heard of it, it’s 200 versts from here, in the Ergovsky district. We used to be his father’s serfs.... What a shame! MERIK. Was he rich? KUSMA. Very. MERIK. Did he drink it all? KUSMA. No, my friend, it was something else.... He used to be great and rich and sober.... [To TIHON] Why you yourself used to see him riding, as he used to, past this inn, on his way to the town. Such bold and noble horses! A carriage on springs, of the best quality! He used to own five troikas, brother.... Five years ago, I remember, he cam here driving two horses from Mikishinsky, and he paid with a five-rouble piece.... I haven’t the time, he says, to wait for the change.... There! MERIK. His brain’s gone, I suppose. KUSMA. His brain’s all right.... It all happened because of his cowardice! From too much fat. First of all, children, because of a woman.... He fell in love with a woman of the town, and it seemed to him that there wasn’t any more beautiful thing in the wide world. A fool may love as much as a wise man. The girl’s people were all right.... But she wasn’t exactly loose, but just... giddy... always changing her mind! Always winking at one! Always laughing and laughing.... No sense at all. The gentry like that, they think that’s nice, but we moujiks would soon chuck her out.... Well, he fell in love, and his luck ran out. He began to keep company with her, one thing led to another... they used to go out in a boat all night, and play pianos.... BORTSOV. Don’t tell them, Kusma! Why should you? What has my life got to do with them? KUSMA. Forgive me, your honour, I’m only telling them a little... what does it matter, anyway.... I’m shaking all over. Pour out some more. [Drinks.] MERIK. [In a semitone] And did she love him?