Stout Lady. He took me by my hair!
Leoníd Fédorovich (in a whisper). Don't be afraid! It will not hurt! Give him your hand! The hand is generally cold, but I like it.
Stout Lady (hiding her hands). Not for the world!
Sakhátov. Yes, it is strange, it is strange.
Leoníd Fédorovich. He is here and wants to communicate. Who wants to ask any question?
Sakhátov. Please let me ask?—Do I believe, or not? (Tánya raps twice.)
Professor. An affirmative answer.
Sakhátov. Allow me to ask again. Have I a ten-rouble bill in my pocket?
(Tánya raps several times and passes the thread over Sakhátov's head.)
Sakhátov. Ah! (Catches the thread and breaks it off.)
Professor. I should like those present not to put any indefinite or jocular remarks. He does not like it.
Sakhátov. Excuse me, but I have a thread in my hand.
Leoníd Fédorovich. A thread? Keep it! That frequently happens. Not only threads, but silk cords, very antique cords, too.
Sakhátov. Still, where does the thread come from?
Sakhátov. Excuse me, excuse me! Something soft has struck my head. Let us have some light. There is something here—
Professor. We beg you not to interfere with the manifestations.
Stout Lady. For the Lord's sake, don't interfere! I want to ask something. May I?
Leoníd Fédorovich. You may, you may. Ask him!
