Are these fellows here too? For goodness' sake, what do they want? What are they looking for? I don't like it. Mr. Tropinin, come; let's go away from here.
Aha! The "Tramp of Death" is approaching.
_[Lipa looks at him in astonishment. The Friar presses his hand to his bosom in a state of agitation._
What are you saying? Oh, God! Why did you say that? You mustn't do it. This is no tramp of death, nothing of the kind.
It's a kind of story he has written--Good morning, good morning. What can I do for you?
Mr. Anthony Tropinin is looking for you, Mr. Savva.
TONY _(very sadly, hiding a little behind Speransky)_
FRIAR _(listening attentively and then speaking with passion)_ What are you running around for then, and whom are you hunting? If you want nothing, do nothing. But you are running around and hunting, hunting. It isn't nice, I tell you!
TONY _(after a passing glance at the Friar he fixes his gaze on Savva)_ Savva.
_[Tony makes no answer, but hides behind Speransky, looking over his shoulder. In the course of what follows he keeps steadily looking at Savva. His lips and eyebrows twitch, and at times he presses both his hands hard against his mouth._
The crowd is in a state of great agitation, Miss Olympiada. They broke the old gate opening on the other side of the woods and rushed in. The Father Superior came out and asked them to behave. They shout so you can't hear anything at all. Many are rolling on the ground in convulsions. I suppose they are sick. It's very strange, quite unusual in fact.
Will they carry Him out soon? I must go. _(Rises)_
They say it'll be soon now. One wagon with cripples in it was upset--cripples without hands or feet. They are lying on the ground crying. It's all so strange.
_[Kondraty appears on the road coming from the monastery. He is walking in the company of two pilgrims, who are listening attentively to him. Catching sight of Savva, Kondraty says something to his companions, who remain standing where they are while he goes up to Savva._
Good morning, Miss Olympiada. Good morning to you too, Mr. Savva Tropinin.
Good morning, good morning. You have come after all? You were not afraid?
Why should I be afraid? You won't kill me, I suppose, and if you should, it would be sweet to die at your hands.