Sakhátov. A light? Yes, yes, I see, but permit me—
Stout Lady. Where, where? Ah, I have not seen it! There it is! Ah!
Professor (to Leoníd Fédorovich, in a whisper, pointing to Grossmann, who is moving about). Notice how he is vibrating! A double force! (Again a phosphorescence.)
Leoníd Fédorovich (to Professor). That is he?
Sakhátov. What he?
Leoníd Fédorovich. The Greek Nicholas. It is his light. Is it not so, Aleksyéy Vladimirovich?
Sakhátov. Who is this Greek Nicholas?
Professor. A certain Greek, who was a monk in the time of Constantine at Constantinople and who visited us last time.
Stout Lady. Where is he, where? I do not see.
Leoníd Fédorovich. He cannot be seen yet— Aleksyéy Vladimirovich, he is always especially well disposed to you. Ask him!
Professor (in a peculiar voice). Nicholas, is it you?
Leoníd Fédorovich (joyfully). He, he!
Stout Lady. Oh, oh! I am going away!
Sakhátov. On what ground is it assumed that it is he?
Leoníd Fédorovich. Two raps are an affirmative answer. Else there would have been a silence.
(Silence. Repressed laughter in the young people's corner. Tánya throws upon the table a lampshade, a pencil, and a pen-wiper.)
Leoníd Fédorovich (in a whisper). Notice, ladies and gentlemen, here is a lamp-shade. Something else. A pencil! Aleksyéy Vladímirovich, a pencil!
Professor. All right, all right. I am watching him and Grossmann. Do you notice?
