va, you'll see. You ought to have your hands
and feet tied. And you _will_ be bound, too. There are people who will
do it. Oh, God! What does this mean? Stay! Stay! Savva!

SAVVA _(going)_

All right, all right.

LIPA _(shouting)_

I'll denounce you. Murderer! Ruffian! I'll denounce you.

SAVVA _(turning round)_

Oho! You had better be more careful. _(Puts his hand on her shoulder
and looks into her eyes)_ You had better be more careful, I say.

LIPA

You--_(For about three seconds there is a struggle between the two
pairs of eyes, after which Lipa turns aside, biting her lips)_ I am
not afraid of you.

SAVVA

That's better. But don't shout. One should never shout. _(Exit)_

LIPA _(alone)_

What does this mean? What am I to do? _(The hens cluck)_

YEGOR TROPININ _(in the door)_

What's the matter? What's the row here--hey? I was gone just half an
hour, and everything has gone topsy-turvy. Lipa, why did you let the
chickens get into the raspberry bushes? Go and drive 'em away, damn
you! I am talking to you--yes, to you! Go, or I'll go you, I'll go
you, I'll--

CURTAIN

THE SECOND ACT

_Within the enclosure of the monastery. In the rear, at the left,
appear the monastery buildings, the refectory, monks' cells, parts of
the church and the steeple, all connected by passageways with arched
gates. Board-walks run in different directions in the court. At the
right the corner of the steeple wall is seen slightly jutting out.
Nestling against it is a small monastic cemetery surrounded by a
light, grilled iron fence. Marble monuments and slabs of stone and
iron are sunk deep into the earth. All are old and twisted. It is a
long time since anyone was buried there. The cemetery contains also
some wild rose-bushes and two or three rather small trees.

It is evening, after vespers. Long shadows are falling from the tower
and the walls. The monastery and the steeple are bathed in the reddish
light of the setting sun. Monks, novices and pilgrims pass along
the board-walks. In the beginning of the act may be heard behind the
scenes the driving of a village herd, the cracking of a herdsman's
whip, the bleating of sheep, the lowing of cattle, and dull cries.
Toward the end of the act it grows much darker, and the movement in
the yard ceases almost entirely.

Savva, Speransky, and the Young Friar are seated on a bench by the
iron fence. Speransky is holding his hat on his knees, and now and
then he strok