It is rare on a week-day to hear the drunken voice of a man.
One of the Cossack wives, a tall, masculine old woman, approaches Granny Ulitka from the homestead opposite and asks her for a light.

In her hand she holds a rag.
'Have you cleared up.

Granny ?' 'The girl is lighting the fire.

Is it fire you want ?' says Granny Ulitka, proud of being able to oblige her neighbour.
Both women enter the hut, and coarse hands unused to dealing with small articles tremblingly lift the lid of a matchbox, which is a rarity in the Caucasus.

The masculine-looking new-comer sits down on the doorstep with the evident intention of having a chat.
'And is your man at the school.