"I cannot tear you, cannot break you . . ."
[_The Tartar shakes his fist threateningly at the Baron, and follows
the other out of the room._]
SATINE [_to Baron, laughing_] Well, Your Imperial Highness, you've
again sat down magnificently in a mud puddle! You've learned a
lot--but you're an ignoramus when it comes to palming a card.
THE BARON [_spreading his hands_] The Devil knows how it happened.
. . .
THE ACTOR. You're not gifted--you've no faith in yourself--and without
that you can never accomplish anything . . .
MIEDVIEDIEFF. I've one Queen--and you've two--oh, well . . .
BUBNOFF. One's enough if she has brains--play!
KLESHTCH. You lost, Abram Ivanovitch?
MIEDVIEDIEFF. None of your business--see? Shut up!
SATINE. I've won fifty-three kopecks.
THE ACTOR. Give me three of them . . . though, what'll I do with them?
LUKA [_coming from kitchen_] Well--the Tartar was fleeced all right,
eh? Going to have some vodka?
THE BARON. Come with us.
SATINE. I wonder what you'll be like when you're drunk.
LUKA. Same as when I'm sober.
THE ACTOR. Come on, old man--I'll recite verses for you . . .
LUKA. What?
THE ACTOR. Verses. Don't you understand?
LUKA. Verses? And what do I want with verses?
THE ACTOR. Sometimes they're funny--sometimes sad.