BABAYEV.  Yes, yes, to be sure.  Tell me, if you please, where is she now? 
What is she doing?

LUKERYA.  She’s here in the city, married.

BABAYEV.  Married?  Does she live happily?

LUKERYA.  Judge for yourself.  She lives in poverty among stupid, ignorant people.  It isn’t as it was in your mother’s house at Zavetnoye.  That was an earthly paradise!  Your mother was the kindest of ladies, and liked to have everybody happy at her house.  There were always lots of young ladies in her house, and likewise young gentlemen, and they played games from morning till night.  She made even the chambermaids play tag with us and other games, and she looked on and enjoyed it.

BABAYEV.  Yes, yes, it was but a short time ago.  It’s no more than three years since I left for St. Petersburg.

LUKERYA.  I remember it very well.  You left three years ago last carnival time.  Your mother didn’t like any of her guests to be moody or to read books.  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.

BABAYEV.  Nothing more natural!  Men, girls, and young ladies continually together—­of course they couldn’t help falling in love.

LUKERYA.  You were especially strong in that line.  You were continually with Tanya, and you never left her, so they called you the “doves.”

BABAYEV.  One’s heart’s not a stone, Lukerya Danilovna.  Even you yourself—­do you remember the surveyor?

LUKERYA.  He isn’t worth remembering.  Later on he behaved in a very ungentlemanly way to me.  But fate has punished him for his lack of courtesy towards a girl of noble birth.  He’s now in jail for being drunk and disorderly.

BABAYEV.  Kindly tell me how it happened that your sister married?

LUKERYA.  When your mamma died last summer we had absolutely no one left to help us.  Our papa in his old age was of no account in the city.  He was a timid man, and so he didn’t get on well.  Our father was a clerk in the Chancery Office, and he received a salary of thirty rubles a year.  How could we live on such a sum?  And yet we saw something of society.  At first we were hardly ever at home, and your mamma aided us in many ways.  Suddenly all that stopped, and soon our father died.  At that time Tanya received an offer from—­I’m almost ashamed to tell you.

BABAYEV.  Why, what are you ashamed of?

LUKERYA.  You are receiving me so graciously, and your interest in my sister makes me feel that our actions have been very uncivil.

BABAYEV.  That can’t be helped.  Probably it was all due to circumstances.  What are you to blame for?

LUKERYA.  You can hardly imagine the degree of embarrassment this relationship causes me.  In a word, our circumstances were such that she was forced to marry a petty shopkeeper.