MITRITCH. And how to the bad? How should the likes of you not go to the bad? Who teaches you? What do you see? What do you hear? Only vileness! I, though I've not been taught much, still know a thing or two. I'm not quite like a peasant woman. A peasant woman, what is she? Just mud! There are many millions of the likes of you in Russia, and all as blind as moles--knowing nothing! All sorts of spells: how to stop the cattle-plague with a plough, and how to cure children by putting them under the perches in the hen-house! That's what they know! NAN. Yes, mother also did that! MITRITCH. Yes,--there it is,--just so! So many millions of girls and women, and all like beasts in a forest! As she grows up, so she dies! Never sees anything; never hears anything. A peasant,--he may learn something at the pub, or maybe in prison, or in the army,--as I did. But a woman? Let alone about God, she doesn't even know rightly what Friday it is! Friday! Friday! But ask her what's Friday? She don't know! They're like blind puppies, creeping about and poking their noses into the dungheap.... All they know are their silly songs. Ho, ho, ho, ho! But what they mean by ho-ho, they don't know themselves! NAN. But I, daddy, I do know half the Lord's Prayer! MITRITCH. A lot you know! But what Can one expect of you? Who teaches you? Only a tipsy peasant--with the strap perhaps! That's all the teaching you get! I don't know who'll have to answer for you. For a recruit, the drill-sergeant or the corporal has to answer; but for the likes of you there's no one responsible! Just as the cattle that have no herdsman are the most mischievous, so with you women--you are the stupidest class! The most foolish class is yours! NAN. Then what's one to do? MITRITCH. That's what one has to do.... You just cover up your head and sleep! Oh Lord! [Silence. The cricket chirps. NAN (jumps up). Daddy! Some one's screaming awfully! Blest if some one isn't screaming! Daddy darling, it's coming here! MITRITCH. Cover up your head, I tell you! [Enter NIKITA, followed by MATRYONA. NIKITA. What have they done with me? What have they done with me? MATRYONA. Have a drop, honey; have a drop of drink! What's the matter? [Fetches the spirits and sets the bottle before him. NIKITA. Give it here! Perhaps the drink will help me! MATRYONA. Mind! They're not asleep! Here you are, have a drop! NIKITA. What does it all mean? Why did you plan it? You might have taken it somewhere! MATRYONA (whispers). Sit still a bit and drink a little more, or have a smoke. It will ease your thoughts! NIKITA. My own mother! My turn seems to have come! How it began to whimper, and how the little bones crunched ... krr.... I'm not a man now! MATRYONA. Eh, now, what's the use of talking so silly! Of course it does seem fearsome at night, but wait till the daylight comes, and a day or two passes, and you'll forget to think of it! [Goes up to NIKITA and puts her hand on his shoulder.