_Màrya._ There! Look! (_They look out._) Oh! he bowed to us! Oh! the wicked man! (_They hide behind the window-curtains._) _Matryòna._ How handsome he is! _Màrya._ Sister, let’s sit here; perhaps he will pass again. _Matryòna._ Oh! Màsha! how can you? You’ll just encourage him, and he’ll take to passing half-a-dozen times a day; and then we shall never be able to get rid of him. I know what these military men are. Why, there was that hussar that Anna Màrkovna encouraged so; he used to ride past, and she’d look out of window and smile at him; and do you know what he did, my dear? He rode his horse right into the hall. _Màrya._ Oh! how disgraceful! _Matryòna._ I should think so! Nothing happened, you know; but she was just the talk of Moscow. (_Looks out of window._) Màsha! there comes Dàrya. Oh! what message will she bring? _Màrya._ Oh! if mamma were to see her! (_Enter_ DÀRYA, _hurriedly._) _Dàrya._ Matryòna Sàvishna, little mother! I as near as anything got caught! I was just running upstairs, and who must come running slap against me but Stepanìda Trofimovna! Of course I said I’d been to shop for a skein of silk. You know, she’s up to anything. Why, only yesterday, our Petrùsha—— _Màrya._ Yes, yes! But what about _them_? _Dàrya._ Yes, miss; they sent their respects. I went in, ma’am, and there was Ivàn Petròvich lying on the sofa, and Vasìli Gavrìlych on the bed.... Leastways, it was Vasìli Gavrìlych as was on the sofa, and they’d been a-smoking, ma’am, till you fair couldn’t breathe. _Matryòna._ Yes; but what did they say? _Dàrya._ Well, they said, ma’am, if you please, that you was both of you to come this evening to Ostànkino at vesper-time. And he said, “Dàrya,” says he, “tell them to be sure and come, even if it rains.” _Màrya._ Of course we’ll go, sister! _Matryòna._ All right. Run back again, Dàrya, and say we’ll come. _Dàrya._ Yes’m. Anything else, please’m? _Màrya._ Yes, Dasha. Tell them to bring some books to read. Say the young ladies desired it. _Dàrya._ Yes, miss; is that all?... Oh! ma’am! I clean forgot! I was to tell you to bring some Madeira with you; that was Ivàn Petròvich’s orders. “It’s so nice,” says he, “in the open air.” _Matryòna._ All right.