g
such songs now.

FIRST GUEST. No, they don't sing them; new songs have come in now.

SECOND GUEST. Yes, yes, one remembers the old times.

PELAGEYA EGOROVNA. Yasha dear! Sing us some good old songs.

GUSLIN _takes the guitar._

RAZLYULYAYEV. [_To the girls_] So it's no use for me to wait; evidently I
shan't get any sense out of you.

LIZA. What do you mean by sense? I don't understand.

MASHA. It's ridiculous to listen to you.

RAZLYULYAYEV. Yes, it's funny for you; but how is it for me? Really, why
don't you love me?

LYUBOV GORDEYEVNA. Let's sit down.

_They sit down._

GUSLIN. [_Sings_]

"Four huts beside the brook
That swift doth run.
There is a gossip
In every one.

Dear gossips all four,
My friends that be,
Be friendly and kindly
And nice to me.

When you're in the green garden,
Take me with you;
When you pluck flowers,
Pluck me a few.

When you weave garlands,
Weave me some too;
When you go to the river,
Take me with you.

When you throw in the garlands,
Throw also my wreath;
The others will float,
When mine sinks beneath.

All of the sweethearts,
They have come home;
Mine, and mine only,
He has not come."

ARINA. [_Enters with bottles and glasses; and a servant-girl with
relishes_] Here, I've brought them!

PELAGEYA EGOROVNA. [_To the servant_] Pass it to the young ladies. [_The
servant carries wine round to the girls, places the tray on the table
and goes out_] Arina! Bring us some wine. Yes, pour it out, pour out the
Madeira, the Madeira; it will cheer us up. That's all right! Let's have a
glass; they won't condemn us--we're old folks! [_They drink_] Annushka!
Come along and drink some wine. Won't you have some?

ANNA IVANOVNA. Well, why shouldn't I drink some! They say, don't drink when
there's no one round, but when there's company, it's all right.

_Goes to_ PELAGEYA EGOROVNA, _drinks and talks in a whisper_.

ARINA. Have you had a drop too much, my boys?

MITYA. I don't drink.

RAZLYULYAYEV. With pleasure! [_He comes up with_ GUSLIN _and drinks; then
catches hold of_ ARINA] Now, then, let's start an old song. [_Sings_.

"Oh, I'll sing an old song,
Of Erema, of Foma--"

ARINA. Stop, saucy; you've crumpled me all up!

RAZLYULYAYEV. [_Sings_]

"The reins were in Kaluga;
In Tarus' the hames were hid.
Grooved runners had the sleigh;
All by