LÍZA. But don't lose courage; just make love a little bit. Heavens, our hearts aren't of stone!
LEONÍD. But see here! I asked her: she said she didn't love me.
LÍZA. Well, if you aren't a queer one! Whoever asked girls right out whether they were in love or not! Even if one of us girls was in love, she wouldn't say so.
LÍZA. Because she's bashful. Only let me go, sir! [_She gets free_] There goes the old fury!
LEONÍD. Come out here into the garden after supper, when mamma goes to bed.
LÍZA. Well, we'll see later. [VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA _enters_] Master, please come to tea, your mamma is waiting.
VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. I saw you, my dear, I saw you.
LÍZA. There was nothing to see. [_She goes out._
LEONÍD. Well, what did you see? What are you going to complain about? I shall simply say that you lie. Whom are they going to believe quicker, you or me?
VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. There, that's the way they all treat me. I can't stand it! My heart is just sick. I'm a martyr in this world. [_She plucks a flower viciously and pulls off its petals_] I believe that if I had the power I'd do this to all of you! I'd do this to all of you! I'd do this to all of you! You just wait, you young scamp! I'll catch you. My heart boils, it boils, it boils over! And now I must smirk before the mistress as if I were a fool. What a life! What a life! The sinners in hell do not suffer as I suffer in this house! [_She goes out._
_A parlor. Rear centre, a door opening into the garden. Doors at the sides; in the centre a round table._
_From a side door there enter a footman with a samovar and a maid with a tea-service; they place both on the table and go out._ GAVRÍLOVNA _and_ POTÁPYCH _enter after them_. GAVRÍLOVNA _prepares the tea_. VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA _enters from the garden_.
VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. My dear, you always serve me only water.
GAVRÍLOVNA. It isn't good for you to drink strong tea, madam.
VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. It's not your business to worry about me!
GAVRÍLOVNA. It dries up the chest, and you're all dried up as it is.
VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. What a life! What a life! I am not dried up from tea-drinking, my dear, but from the insults of the world.
GAVRÍLOVNA. Insults! You insult everybody yourself, as if something were stirring you up!