ANNA PÁVLOVNA [returning to Sásha] What are you looking so glum about?... I gave him the money quite well, and he took it.
SÁSHA. It's disgusting! She has taken him with her to the nursery. It's just as if he were her _fiancé_ or her husband....
ANNA PÁVLOVNA. Whatever does it matter to you? Why need you get excited about it? Did you mean to marry him yourself?
SÁSHA. I? Marry that pikestaff? I'd rather marry I don't know whom, than him! Such a thing never entered my head.... I am only disgusted that, after Fédya, Lisa can be so attracted by a stranger.
ANNA PÁVLOVNA. Not a stranger, but an old playfellow!
SÁSHA. Don't I see by their smiles and looks that they are in love?
ANNA PÁVLOVNA. Well, what is there to be surprised at in that? He shares her anxiety about her baby, shows sympathy and helps her ... and she feels grateful. Besides, why should she not love and marry Victor?
SÁSHA. That would be disgusting--disgusting....
Enter Karénin and Lisa. Karénin silently takes leave. Sásha goes of angrily.
LISA [to Anna Pávlovna] What's the matter with her?
Afrémov's sitting-room. Glasses of wine on the table. Afrémov, Fédya, Stákhov (shaggy), Butkévich (close-shaven), and Korotkóv (a tuft-hunter).
KOROTKÓV. And I tell you that he'll be out of the running! La Belle Bois is the best horse in Europe.... Will you bet?
STÁKHOV. Don't, my dear fellow.... You know very well that nobody believes you, or will bet with you.
KOROTKÓV. I tell you your Cartouche won't be in it!
AFRÉMOV. Stop quarrelling! Let me settle it ... ask Fédya--he'll give you the right tip.
FÉDYA. Both horses are good. All depends on the jockey.
STÁKHOV. Gúsev is a rascal, and needs a firm hand on him.
FÉDYA. Wait a bit--I'll settle your differences.... Who won the Moscow Derby?
KOROTKÓV. He did--but what of that? It was only chance. If Crakus had not fallen ill.... [Enter footman].
FOOTMAN. A lady has come, and is asking for Mr. Protásov.
FOOTMAN. I don't know her name, but she's a real lady.
FOOTMAN. Shall I ask her into the dining-room?
FÉDYA. No, wait.... I'll go myself and see.
KOROTKÓV. Who can it be? It must be Másha.
KOROTKÓV. The gipsy. She's in love with him, like a cat.
STÁKHOV. What a darling she is ...! And how she sings!