_Serafima._ I can’t, really. _Oulìta._ Jam, then? _Serafima._ I’ll have some jam. _Oulìta_ (_taking keys out of pocket_). Go to the store-room, Matryòna, and bring me two kinds. _Serafima._ And tell my coachman to bring the carriage round. (MATRYÒNA _crosses stage, and exit_.) _Oulìta._ Have some more fruit, Serafimoushka. (SERAFÌMA _takes some_.) Won’t you have any, Karp Kàrpych? _Karp._ What next? As if I were going to eat all sorts of rubbish now! Put some aside for me, and have the rest cleared away. I’ll eat an orange with my brandy. (OULÌTA _eats fruit_. _Silence._) SCENE V. IN THE COURTYARD. _Matryòna_ (_crosses stage with two plates, goes up to stable-door, and pushes it with her foot_). Here, you ragamuffins! (_Enter_ COACHMEN _from stable_.) Bring the horses round; Madame wants to go. _Second C._ You see, at that time, my master was angry with me about something, and wanted to sell me for a soldier. _First C._ Bless my soul! _Second C._ So you see, my dear fellow, I’d got my head just full of the war, and never talked about anything but war with every man I met. And I got so worked up in my feelings like, that I was ready to go at the Circassians themselves. _First C._ I’ve got a neighbour here, a friend of mine; he’s an officer’s servant, and he was with his master in the Hungarian campaign; and you should just hear what he can tell about the Austrians! _Second C._ What about them? _First C._ Why, my good fellow, they told him beforehand, with the Frenchmen standing by—there were Frenchmen, you know—“Do you think you can stand against me? If I choose, I’ll tear you in pieces.” _Second C._ And they can do it too! _First C._ Ah! that they can! _Second C._ Because they’re so strong, you see! _First C._ Nothing can stand against them. It’s like when they had the militia ... eleven _vershkòv_ high, and could lift fifteen _poods_. And there they’d advance on you! Then, bang, bang, bang goes the big drum, and they all shout, Forwards! March! Treason! And there they come on and on, and what can you do? _Second C._ In course they must get the better of them; that’s plain. _First C._ You see, the one that wins, that’ll be which ever is strongest. _Matryòna._ I’m perfectly tired of hearing you. You’re fine soldiers ... do your fighting sitting by the oven. War can’t be such a very dreadful thing after all. _First C._ (_glances sideways at_ MATRYÒNA _with absolute contempt_): Brazen hussy! _Matryòna._ Madame’s waiting; do you hear? _Second C._ (_hangs whip on right arm, and gives left hand to First C._). Good-bye! _First C._ Good-bye, my lad! (_Exit behind house_. MATRYÒNA _goes on to gallery_.) SCENE VI. ON THE GALLERY.