Not a ray of hope!
His mind is set on this with that insistence
Which seems to seize on all match-making folk.
The fancy bites them, and they straight go mad.


SHE.

Your father's friend, the Metropolitan--
A word from him . . .


HE.

Alas, he too is bitten!
Gray-haired, gray-hearted, worldly wise, he sees
This marriage makes me the Tsar's protege,
And opens every door to preference.


SHE.

Think while I think. There surely is some key
Unlocks the labyrinth, could we but find it.
Nastasia!


HE.