MITYA. [Taking out money] Here, take as much as you need.

LYUBIM KARPYCH.  I need ten kopeks.  This is all silver; I don’t need silver.  Give me two kopeks more, that will be just right. [MITYA gives them] That’s enough.  You have a good heart, Mitya! [Lies down] My brother doesn’t know how to appreciate you.  Yes, I’ll play a joke on him!  For fools riches are an evil!  Give money to a sensible man, and he’ll do something with it.  I walked about Moscow, I saw everything, everything!—­I’ve been through a long course of study!  You’d better not give money to a fool; he’ll only go smash!  Foh, foh, foh, brr! just like brother and like me, the brute! [In a voice half asleep] Mitya, I will come and spend the night with you.

MITYA.  Come on.  The office is empty now—­it’s a holiday.

LYUBIM KARPYCH.  Oh, but I’ll play a funny joke on brother. [Falls asleep.

MITYA. [Walks towards the door and takes the letter out of his pocket] What can she have written?  I’m frightened!—­My hands tremble!—­Well, what is to be will be!  I’ll read it. [Reads] “And I love you.  Lyubov Tortsov.” [Clutches his head and runs out.

ACT II

Guest-room in the house of TORTSOV. Against the rear wall a sofa, in front of the sofa a round table and six armchairs, three on each side; in the left corner a door; on each wall a mirror, and under them little tables.  A door in each side wall, and a door in the rear wall in the corner.  On the stage it is dark; from the left door comes a light.

SCENE I

LYUBOV GORDEYEVNA and ANNA IVANOVNA enter through the lighted door.

ANNA IVANOVNA.  Why don’t they come, our fine lads?  Shall we go and fetch them?

LYUBOV GORDEYEVNA.  No, you’d better not.  Well, yes, if you like, fetch them. [Embraces her] Fetch them, Annushka.

ANNA IVANOVNA.  Well, evidently you aren’t happy without him!

LYUBOV GORDEYEVNA.  Oh, Annushka, if you only knew how I love him!

ANNA IVANOVNA.  Love him, then, my dear, but don’t lose your wits.  Don’t let him go too far, or you may be sorry for it.  Be sure you find out first what sort of a fellow he is.

LYUBOV GORDEYEVNA.  He’s a good lad!—­I love him very much; he’s so quiet, and he’s an orphan.

ANNA IVANOVNA.  Well, if he’s good, then love him; you ought to know best.  I just said that!  Many a girl comes to grief because of them.  It’s easy to get into trouble, if you don’t use your sense.

LYUBOV GORDEYEVNA.  What is our love?  Like a blade of grass in the field; it blooms out of season—­and it fades.

ANNA IVANOVNA.  Wait a moment!  Some one’s coming, I think.  Isn’t it he?  I’ll go and you wait, perhaps it’s he!  Have a good talk with him. [She goes out.