Mozgovy: It’s bitter!
All: Bitter! Bitter! (Aplombov and Dashenka kiss.)
Yat: Wonderful, wonderful! I must express to you, ladies and gentlemen, with the utmost veracity, that this room and the place in general are magnificent. Superlatively enchanting.—But do you know why it does not partake of a complete triumph? There’s no electric light, excuse the expression. Electric light has been introduced already in all countries; only Russia is left behind.
Jigalov (thoughtfully): Electric—h’m. But to my idea, electric light is just trickery. They put a little bit of coal there and think they can deceive your eyes with it. No, friend, if you give light, then don’t give coal, but something real, something special, something you can take hold of. Give a light, you understand, a light which is something and not simply an idea.
Yat: If only you were to see what an electric battery is composed of, you’d think differently.
Jigalov: I don’t want to see it. Trickery! They deceive simple folk, and squeeze them to the last drop. We know that sort of people. And you,
