MERIK. Yes, you're a poor lot here.

EFIMOVNA. Turn away! [Nudges SAVVA] Savva, darling, a wicked man is
looking at us. He'll do us harm, dear. [To MERIK] Turn away, I tell
you, you snake!

SAVVA. He won't touch us, mother, he won't touch us. ... God won't
let him.

MERIK. All right, Orthodox brothers! [Shrugs his shoulders] Be
quiet! You aren't asleep, you bandy-legged fools! Why don't you
say something?

EFIMOVNA. Take your great eyes away! Take away that devil's own
pride!

MERIK. Be quiet, you crooked old woman! I didn't come with the
devil's pride, but with kind words, wishing to honour your bitter
lot! You're huddled together like flies because of the cold--I'd
be sorry for you, speak kindly to you, pity your poverty, and here
you go grumbling away! [Goes up to FEDYA] Where are you from?

FEDYA. I live in these parts. I work at the Khamonyevsky brickworks.

MERIK. Get up.

FEDYA. [Raising himself] Well?

MERIK. Get up, right up. I'm going to lie down here.