Shabelski. Could a lunatic asylum possibly be worse than this house, or any other? Kindly take me there at once. Please do! Everybody is wicked and futile and worthless and stupid; I am an object of disgust to myself, I don’t believe a word I say———
Lebedieff. Let me give you a piece of advice, old man; fill your mouth full of tow, light it, and blow at everybody. Or, better still, take your hat and go home. This is a wedding, we all want to enjoy ourselves and you are croaking like a raven. Yes, really.
Shabelski leans on the piano and begins to sob.
Lebedieff. Good gracious, Matthew, Count! What is it, dear Matthew, old friend? Have I offended you? There, forgive me; I didn’t mean to hurt you. Come, drink some water.
Shabelski. I don’t want any water. [Raises his head.
Lebedieff. What are you crying about?
Shabelski. Nothing in particular; I was just crying.
Lebedieff. Matthew, tell me the truth, what is it? What has happened?
Shabelski. I caught sight of that violoncello, and—and—I remembered the Jewess.
Lebedieff. What an unfortunate moment you have chosen to remember her. Peace be with her! But don’t think of her now.
Shabelski. We used to play duets together. She was a beautiful, a glorious woman.
Sasha sobs.
Lebedieff. What, are you crying too? Stop, Sasha! Dear me, they are both howling now, and I—and I— Do go away; the guests will see you!
Shabelski. Paul, when the sun is shining, it is gay even in
