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I'm not to blame because your wife wanders around highways and byways, and flirts with young gentlemen for hours. TATYÁNA. I know nothing of highways and byways; I have told you, Lev Rodionych, that I met Valentin Pávlich on the bank, and even everything that we said. LUKÉRYA. Yes, I was there with them. ULYÁNA. Yes, you're the same sort. KRASNÓV. You're a regular snake in the grass!
If it depended on me, I'd fly to him. LUKÉRYA. We'll have to rack our brains how we may work that. TATYÁNA. No matter how I rack my brain, I can't think of anything. LUKÉRYA. I know what, Tánya! You'll have to fool your husband. TATYÁNA. How? LUKÉRYA. We women couldn't live without cunning, because we're the weaker sex, and abused on all sides. TATYÁNA. But what cunning? Tell me!
Lukerya would have had the bad taste to follow her example, had she been permitted, so fast are evil fashions destroying the beautiful and practical national costumes. Little did Lukerya dream that she, in her peasant garb, with her thick nose and rather unformed face, was a hundred times prettier than Annushka, with far finer features and "fashionable" dress.
LUKÉRYA. How many times she's told me: "I love my husband very much, very, very much." ARKHÍP. What do you keep backing each other up for? Have you been plotting together? LUKÉRYA. Why should I be silent? TATYÁNA. Grandfather Arkhíp, I want to ask you to have a talk with my husband ARKHÍP. Wait! Wait! Give me time don't take me off my feet! You say that your husband is angry with you?
She would say: "Why, you're spoiling everybody's spirits." Every one was madly gay for her sake, but in the midst of all that gayety anybody who had a keen eye could see quite a little. BABÁYEV. Nothing more natural! Men, girls, and young ladies continually together of course they couldn't help falling in love. LUKÉRYA. You were especially strong in that line.
LUKÉRYA. Now that you and your husband live like cats and dogs, he can't help getting the notion into his noddle that you don't love him, but do love another. TATYÁNA. How shall I manage? LUKÉRYA. You'll have to change your tactics. Be very submissive; peasants like that. Make believe that you're in love with him; give him all sorts of humbug and he'll prick up his ears at it.
Only my idea is, if folks were near me, I should have nothing of that, and should feel nothing except my misfortune. Lukerya heaved a painful sigh. Her breathing, like her limbs, was not under her control. 'When I come to think, master, of you, she began again, 'you are very sorry for me. But you mustn't be too sorry, really!
Lies on the stove-couch and plots trouble. TATYÁNA. What kind of judge are you, anyway? My husband never says anything to me, and yet you dare to put in your opinion! AFÓNYA. Yes, but he's blinded by you, blinded. You've given him some sort of love-charm. LUKÉRYA. Keep still, seeing that God has made you a sick man. Tend to your own business; keep on coughing, there's no sin in that.
I did not know what to say, and gazed in stupefaction at the dark motionless face with the clear, death-like eyes fastened upon me. Was it possible? This mummy Lukerya the greatest beauty in all our household that tall, plump, pink-and-white, singing, laughing, dancing creature! Lukerya, our smart Lukerya, whom all our lads were courting, for whom I heaved some secret sighs I, a boy of sixteen!
'You don't recognise me, master? whispered the voice again: it seemed to be breathed from the almost unmoving lips. 'And, indeed, how should you? I'm Lukerya....Do you remember, who used to lead the dance at your mother's, at Spasskoye?... Do you remember, I used to be leader of the choir too? 'Lukerya! I cried. 'Is it you? Can it be? 'Yes, it's I, master I, Lukerya.
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