(Drinks and sings:
"A young monk took the tonsure," etc.)
GREGORY. (To HOSTESS.) Whither leads this road?
HOSTESS. To Lithuania, my dear, to the Luyov mountains.
GREGORY. And is it far to the Luyov mountains?
HOSTESS. Not far; you might get there by evening, but for
the tsar's frontier barriers, and the captains of the
guard.
GREGORY. What say you? Barriers! What means this?
HOSTESS. Someone has escaped from Moscow, and orders
have been given to detain and search everyone.
GREGORY. (Aside.) Here's a pretty mess!
VARLAAM. Hallo, comrade! You've been making up to
mine hostess. To be sure you don't want vodka, but
you want a young woman. All right, brother, all right!
Everyone has his own ways, and Father Missail and I
have only one thing which we care for--we drink to the
bottom, we drink; turn it upside down, and knock at
the bottom.
MISSAIL. Well said, Father Varlaam.
GREGORY. (To Hostess.) Whom do they want? Who
escaped from Moscow?
HOSTESS. God knows; a thief perhaps, a robber. But here
even good folk are worried now. And what will come of
it? Nothing. They will not catch the old devil; as if
there were no other road into Lithuania than the highway!
Just turn to the left from here, then by the pinewood
or by the footpath as far as the chapel on the
Chekansky brook, and then straight across the marsh to
Khlopin, and thence to Zakhariev, and then any child
will guide you to the Luyov mountains.
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