MATRYÓNA. But you, my lass, must remember that if once he gives you the slip there's no getting it right again! [Whispering] Well, and did you give him the strong tea? ANÍSYA. Oh! oh!... [About to answer, but sees neighbour and stops]. The neighbour (a woman) passes the hut, and listens to a call from within. NEIGHBOUR [to Anísya] I say, Anísya! Eh, Anísya! There's your old man calling, I think. ANÍSYA. That's the way he always coughs,--just as if he were screaming. He's getting very bad. NEIGHBOUR [approaches Matryóna] How do you do, granny? Have you come far? MATRYÓNA. Straight from home, dear. Come to see my son. Brought him some shirts--can't help thinking of these things, you see, when it's one's own child. NEIGHBOUR. Yes, that's always so. [To Anísya] And I was thinking of beginning to bleach the linen, but it is a bit early, no one has begun yet. ANÍSYA. Where's the hurry? MATRYÓNA. Well, and has he had communion? ANÍSYA. Oh dear yes, the priest was here yesterday. NEIGHBOUR. I had a look at him yesterday. Dearie me! one wonders his body and soul keep together. And, O Lord, the other day he seemed just at his last gasp, so that they laid him under the holy icóns.[1] They started lamenting and got ready to lay him out. [1] It is customary to place a dying person under the icón. One or more icóns hang in the hut of each Orthodox peasant. ANÍSYA. He came to, and creeps about again. MATRYÓNA. Well, and is he to have extreme unction? ANÍSYA. The neighbours advise it. If he lives till to-morrow we'll send for the priest. NEIGHBOUR. Oh, Anísya dear, I should think your heart must be heavy. As the saying goes, "Not he is sick that's ill in bed, but he that sits and waits in dread." ANÍSYA. Yes, if it were only over one way or other! NEIGHBOUR. Yes, that's true, dying for a year, it's no joke. You're bound hand and foot like that. MATRYÓNA. Ah, but a widow's lot is also bitter. It's all right as long as one's young, but who'll care for you when you're old? Oh yes, old age is not pleasure. Just look at me. I've not walked very far, and yet am so footsore I don't know how to stand. Where's my son? ANÍSYA. Ploughing. But you come in and we'll get the samovár ready; the tea'll set you up again. MATRYÓNA [sitting down] Yes, it's true, I'm quite done up, my dears. As to extreme unction, that's absolutely necessary. Besides, they say it's good for the soul. ANÍSYA. Yes, we'll send to-morrow. MATRYÓNA. Yes, you had better. And we've had a wedding down in our parts. NEIGHBOUR. What, in spring?[2] [2] Peasant weddings are usually in autumn. They are forbidden in Lent, and soon after Easter the peasants become too busy to marry till harvest is over. MATRYÓNA. Ah, now if it were a poor man, then, as the saying is, it's always unseasonable for a poor man to marry. But it's Simon Matvéyitch, he's married that Marína. ANÍSYA. What luck for her! NEIGHBOUR. He's a widower. I suppose there are children?