_Karp._ If I tell you to hold your tongue, that’s enough. (_Silence._) _Oulìta._ When was that battle fought? _Karp._ What battle? _Oulìta._ Why, lately, you know. Don’t you remember? _Karp._ And what about it? _Oulìta._ Such a lot of common soldiers got made into officers. _Karp._ Why not? They weren’t women. Everybody gets a fair reward for his services. _Oulìta._ But, do you know, there’s a pedlar woman that comes here; and she says that, when her nephew passes his examination, she’ll be made a noble too. _Karp._ When the sky rains potatoes! _Oulìta._ But they say there are countries where they have women for soldiers. _Karp_ (_laughs_). Life Guards, no doubt! (_Silence._) _Oulìta._ They say it’s sinful to drink tea. _Karp._ What do you mean by that? _Oulìta._ Because it comes from a heathen country. _Karp._ Heaps of things come from heathen countries. _Oulìta._ No; it’s quite true; now, bread grows on Christian soil, and we eat it at the proper time; but when do we drink tea? People go to mass, and we sit drinking tea; now its vesper-time, and here we are drinking tea. So you see it’s a sin. _Karp._ Well, then, drink it at the proper time. _Oulìta._ Yes; but still—— _Karp._ Yes; but still, hold your tongue. You haven’t much of a headpiece, but you’re very fond of talking. Just hold your tongue! (_Silence._) _Oulìta._ How lucky our Serafimochka is! She married a gentleman, and that made her a lady; and now that she’s a widow, she’s still a lady. Supposing she should marry a prince now, perhaps she’ll be a princess. _Karp._ Only through her husband. _Oulìta._ Well, now, if she were to marry a prince, what should I be? Surely, something; she’s my child. _Karp._ It’s enough to addle one’s head to talk half an hour with you! I wanted to think about business, and here you keep worrying me with your chattering and nonsense. Life isn’t long enough to hear all you women have got to say; I think the quickest way will be for you to hold your tongue! (_Meditates. Silence. Enter_ MATRYÒNA, _hurriedly_.) _Matryòna._ Oulìta Nikìtishna! Little mother! Serafima Kàrpovna has come. _Oulìta._ Goodness gracious! (_Rises hastily, and exit with_ MATRYÒNA.)