MATRYÓNA [sits looking at her and discourses] Oh, oh, oh! How frightened he was: well, but what of that? If it _is_ hard, it's the only thing to be done. Where was one to put it? And just think, how often it happens that people pray to God to have children! But no, God gives them none; or they are all still-born. Look at our priest's wife now.... And here, where it's not wanted, here it lives. [Looks towards the cellar] I suppose he's finished. [To Anísya] Well? ANÍSYA [looking into the cellar] He's put a board on it and is sitting on it. It must be finished! MATRYÓNA. Oh, oh! One would be glad not to sin, but what's one to do? Re-enter Nikíta from cellar, trembling all over. NIKÍTA. It's still alive! I can't! It's alive! ANÍSYA. If it's alive, where are you off to? [Tries to stop him]. NIKÍTA [rushes at her] Go away! I'll kill you! [Catches hold of her arms; she escapes, he runs after her with the spade. Matryóna runs towards him and stops him. Anísya runs into the porch. Matryóna tries to wrench the spade from him. To his mother] I'll kill you! I'll kill you! Go away! [Matryóna runs to Anísya in the porch. Nikíta stops] I'll kill you! I'll kill you all! MATRYÓNA. That's because he's so frightened! Never mind, it will pass! NIKÍTA. What have they made me do? What have they made me do? How it whimpered.... How it crunched under me! What have they done with me?... And it's really alive, still alive! [Listens in silence] It's whimpering ... There, it's whimpering. [Runs to the cellar]. MATRYÓNA [to Anísya] He's going; it seems he means to bury it. Nikíta, you'd better take the lantern! NIKÍTA [does not heed her, but listens by the cellar door] I can hear nothing! I suppose it was fancy! [Moves away, then stops] How the little bones crunched under me. Krr ... kr ... What have they made me do? [Listens again] Again whimpering! It's really whimpering! What can it be? Mother! Mother, I say! [Goes up to her]. MATRYÓNA. What is it, sonnie? NIKÍTA. Mother, my own mother, I can't do any more! Can't do any more! My own mother, have some pity on me! MATRYÓNA. Oh dear, how frightened you are, my darling! Come, come, drink a drop to give you courage! NIKÍTA. Mother, mother! It seems my time has come! What have you done with me? How the little bones crunched, and how it whimpered! My own mother! What have you done with me? [Steps aside and sits down on the sledge]. MATRYÓNA. Come, my own, have a drink! It certainly does seem uncanny at night-time. But wait a bit. When the day breaks, you know, and one day and another passes, you'll forget even to think of it. Wait a bit; when the girl's married we'll even forget to think of it. But you go and have a drink; have a drink! I'll go and put things straight in the cellar myself. NIKÍTA [rouses himself] Is there any drink left? Perhaps I can drink it off! [Exit]. Anísya, who has stood all the time by the door, silently makes way for him.