are all just the same as Armenians and gypsies. They’ll give you a sponge or a goldfish, but all the time they’re watching their chance to relieve you of your superfluities. We’ll have another, eh?
Nastasia: What are all these anothers? It’s time we all sat down. It’s twelve o’clock.
Jigalov: Sit down, then, sit down! (Calls.) Ladies and gentlemen, I humbly entreat you. Please. Supper! Young people!
Nastasia: Welcome, dear guests. Be seated.
Zmewkin (sits at the table): Give me poetry! “But ah! the rebel, sought the storm, as in the storm were peace.” Give me storm!
Yat (aside): Remarkable woman! I’m in love—up to the ears in love! (Enter the company. They take their seats noisily at the table; a minute’s pause, the band plays a march.)
Mozgovy (in the uniform of a naval volunteer, rising): Ladies and gentlemen! I must tell you this; there are many toasts and speeches waiting for us. We won’t wait. We’ll begin at once. Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to drink a toast to the bride and bridegroom. (The band plays a flourish. “Hurrah!” Clinking of glasses.)
