SAVVA. What sleep can I have? If only I had the patience to endure this pain, mother; sleep’s quite another matter. A sinner doesn’t deserve to be given rest. What’s that noise, pilgrim-woman? NAZAROVNA. God is sending a storm. The wind is wailing, and the rain is pouring down, pouring down. All down the roof and into the windows like dried peas. Do you hear? The windows of heaven are opened... [Thunder] Holy, holy, holy... FEDYA. And it roars and thunders, and rages, sad there’s no end to it! Hoooo... it’s like the noise of a forest.... Hoooo.... The wind is wailing like a dog.... [Shrinking back] It’s cold! My clothes are wet, it’s all coming in through the open door... you might put me through a wringer.... [Plays softly] My concertina’s damp, and so there’s no music for you, my Orthodox brethren, or else I’d give you such a concert, my word!--Something marvellous! You can have a quadrille, or a polka, if you like, or some Russian dance for two.... I can do them all. In the town, where I was an attendant at the Grand Hotel, I couldn’t make any money, but I did wonders on my concertina. And, I can play the guitar. A VOICE FROM THE CORNER. A silly speech from a silly fool. FEDYA. I can hear another of them. [Pause.] NAZAROVNA. [To SAVVA] If you’d only lie where it was warm now, old man, and warm your feet. [Pause.] Old man! Man of God! [Shakes SAVVA] Are you going to die? FEDYA. You ought to drink a little vodka, grandfather. Drink, and it’ll burn, burn in your stomach, and warm up your heart. Drink, do! NAZAROVNA. Don’t swank, young man! Perhaps the old man is giving back his soul to God, or repenting for his sins, and you talk like that, and play your concertina.... Put it down! You’ve no shame! FEDYA. And what are you sticking to him for? He can’t do anything and you... with your old women’s talk... He can’t say a word in reply, and you’re glad, and happy because he’s listening to your nonsense.... You go on sleeping, grandfather; never mind her! Let her talk, don’t you take any notice of her. A woman’s tongue is the devil’s broom--it will sweep the good man and the clever man both out of the house. Don’t you mind.... [Waves his hands] But it’s thin you are, brother of mine! Terrible! Like a dead skeleton! No life in you! Are you really dying? SAVVA. Why should I die? Save me, O Lord, from dying in vain.... I’ll suffer a little, and then get up with God’s help.... The Mother of God won’t let me die in a strange land.... I’ll die at home. FEDYA. Are you from far off? SAVVA. From Vologda. The town itself.... I live there. FEDYA. And where is this Vologda? TIHON. The other side of Moscow.... FEDYA. Well, well, well.... You have come a long way, old man! On foot?