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down quick. What d'you think, Nicholas Ivánovich, will he die? He is
very ill!
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. I don't know. But he really is very ill. I think we
must send him to the hospital.
WOMAN. Oh God! [Begins to cry] Don't take him away, let him die
here.[28] [To her husband, who utters something] What's the matter?
[
28] The woman, for all her roughness, is sorry to part from her
husband.
IVÁN ZYÁBREV. I want to go to the hospital. Here I'm treated worse than
a dog.
WOMAN. Well, I don't know. I've lost my head. Maláshka, get dinner
ready.
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. What have you for dinner?
WOMAN. What? Why, potatoes and bread, and not enough of that. [Enters
hut. A pig squeals, and children are crying inside].
IVÁN ZYÁBREV [groans] Oh Lord, if I could but die!
Enter Borís.
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