Plays by Alexander Ostrovsky

Prefatory Note

The following persons have co-operated in preparing the present volume: Leonard Bacon (verses in “Poverty Is No Crime”), Florence Noyes (suggestions on the style of all the plays), George Rapall Noyes (introduction, revision of the translation, and suggestions on the style of all the plays), Jane W. Robertson (“Poverty Is No Crime”), Minnie Eline Sadicoff (“Sin and Sorrow Are Common to All”), John Laurence Seymour (“It’s a Family Affair—We’ll Settle It Ourselves” and “A Protégée of the Mistress”). The system of transliteration for Russian names used in the book is with very small variations that recommended for “popular” use by the School of Russian Studies in the University of Liverpool.

Introduction

A Protégée of the Mistress

Poverty Is No Crime

Sin and Sorrow Are Common to All

It’s a Family Affair — We’ll Settle It Ourselves

Introduction

Alexander Nikolayevich Ostróvsky (1823-86) is the great Russian dramatist of the central decades of the nineteenth century, of the years when the realistic school was all-powerful in Russian literature, of the period when Turgénev, Dostoyevsky, and Tolstoy created a literature of prose fiction that has had no superior in the world’s history. His work in the drama takes its place beside theirs in the novel. Obviously inferior as it is in certain ways, it yet sheds light on an important side of Russian life that they left practically untouched. Turgénev and Tolstoy were gentlemen by birth, and wrote of the fortunes of the Russian nobility or of the peasants whose villages bordered on the nobles’ estates. Dostoyevsky, though not of this landed-proprietor school, still dealt with the nobility, albeit with its waifs and strays. None of these masters more than touched the Russian merchants, that homespun moneyed class, crude and coarse, grasping and mean, without the idealism of their educated neighbors in the cities or the homely charm of the peasants from whom they themselves sprang, yet gifted with a rough force and determination not often found among the cultivated aristocracy. This was the field that Ostróvsky made peculiarly his own.

With this merchant class Ostróvsky was familiar from his childhood. Born in 1823, he was the son of a lawyer doing business among the Moscow tradesmen. After finishing his course at the gymnasium and spending three years at the University of Moscow, he entered the civil service in 1843 as an employee of the Court of Conscience in Moscow, from which he transferred two years later to the Court of Commerce, where he continued until he was discharged from the service in 1851. Hence both by his home life and by his professional training he was brought into contact with types such as Bolshóv and Rizpolozhensky in “It’s a Family Affair—We’ll Settle It Ourselves.”

As a boy of seventeen Ostróvsky had already developed a passion for the theatre. His literary career began in the year 1847, when he read to a group of Moscow men of letters his first experiments in dramatic composition. In this same year he printed one scene of “A Family Affair,” which appeared in complete form three years later, in 1850, and established its author’s reputation as a dramatist of undoubted talent. Unfortunately, by its mordant but true picture of commercial morals, it aroused against him the most bitter feelings among the Moscow merchants. Discussion of the play in the press was prohibited, and representation of it on the stage was out of the question. It was reprinted only in 1859, and then, at the instance of the censorship, in an altered form, in which a police officer appears at the end of the play as a deus ex machina, arrests Podkhalyúzin, and announces that he will be sent to Siberia. In this mangled version the play was acted in 1861; in its original text it did not appear on the stage until 1881. Besides all this, the drama was the cause of the dismissal of Ostróvsky from the civil service, in 1851. The whole episode illustrates the difficulties under which the great writers of Russia have constantly labored under a despotic government.

Beginning with 1852 Ostróvsky gave his whole strength to literary work. He is exceptional among Russian authors in devoting himself almost exclusively to the theatre. The latest edition of his works contains forty-eight pieces written entirely by him, and six produced in collaboration with other authors. It omits his translations from foreign dramatists, which were of considerable importance, including, for example, a version of Shakespeare’s “Taming of the Shrew.”

The plays of Ostróvsky are of varied character, including dramatic chronicles based on early Russian history, and a fairy drama, “Little Snowdrop.” His real strength lay, however, in the drama of manners, giving realistic pictures of Russian life among the Russian city classes and the minor nobility. Here he was recognized, from the time of the appearance on the stage of his first pieces, in 1853 and the following years, as without a rival among Russian authors for the theatre. Of this realistic drama the present volume gives four characteristic examples.

The tone of “Poverty Is No Crime” (1854), written only four years after “A Family Affair,” is in sharp contrast with that of its predecessor. In the earlier play Ostróvsky had adopted a satiric tone that proved him a worthy disciple of Gógol, the great founder of Russian realism. Not one lovable character appears in that gloomy picture of merchant life in Moscow; even the old mother repels us by her stupidity more than she attracts us by her kindliness. No ray of light penetrates the “realm of darkness”—to borrow a famous phrase from a Russian critic—conjured up before us by the young dramatist. In “Poverty Is No Crime” we see the other side of the medal. Ostróvsky had now been affected by the Slavophile school of writers and thinkers, who found in the traditions of Russian society treasures of kindliness and love that they contrasted with the superficial glitter of Western civilization. Life in Russia is varied as elsewhere, and Ostróvsky could change his tone without doing violence to realistic truth. The tradesmen had not wholly lost the patriarchal charm of their peasant fathers. A poor apprentice is the hero of “Poverty Is No Crime,” and a wealthy manufacturer the villain of the piece. Good-heartedness is the touchstone by which Ostróvsky tries character, and this may be hidden beneath even a drunken and degraded exterior. The scapegrace, Lyubím Tortsóv, has a sound Russian soul, and at the end of the play rouses his hard, grasping brother, who has been infatuated by a passion for aping foreign fashions, to his native Russian worth.

Just as “Poverty Is No Crime” shows the influence of the Slavophile movement, “A Protégée of the Mistress” (1859) was inspired by the great liberal movement that bore fruit in the emancipation of the serfs in 1861. Ostróvsky here departed from town to a typical country manor, and produced a work kindred in spirit to Turgénev’s “Sportsman’s Sketches,” or “Mumu.” In a short play, instinct with simple poetry, he shows the suffering brought about by serfdom: the petty tyranny of the landed proprietor, which is the more galling because it is practised with a full conviction of virtue on the part of the tyrant; and the crushed natures of the human cattle under his charge.

The master grim, the lowly serf that tills his lands;
     With lordly pride the first sends forth commands,
     The second cringes like a slave.

—Nekrasov.

Despite the unvarying success of his dramas on the stage, Ostróvsky for a long time derived little financial benefit from them. Discouragement and overwork wrecked his health, and were undoubtedly responsible for the gloomy tone of a series of plays written in the years following 1860, of which “Sin and Sorrow Are Common to All” (1863) is a typical example. Here the dramatist sketches a tragic incident arising from the conflict of two social classes, the petty tradesmen and the nobility. From the coarse environment of the first emerge honest, upright natures like Krasnóv; from the superficial, dawdling culture of the second come weak-willed triflers like Babáyev. The sordid plot sweeps on to its inevitable conclusion with true tragic force.

Towards the end of his life Ostróvsky gained the material prosperity that was his due. “There was no theatre in Russia in which his plays were not acted” (Skabichévsky). From 1874 to his death he was the president of the Society of Russian Dramatic Authors. In 1885 he received the important post of artistic director of the Moscow government theatres; the harassing duties of the position proved too severe for his weak constitution, and he passed away in the next year.

As a dramatist, Ostróvsky is above all else a realist; no more thoroughly natural dramas than his were ever composed. Yet as a master of realistic technique he must not be compared with Ibsen, or even with many less noted men among modern dramatists. His plays have not the neat, concise construction that we prize to-day. Pages of dialogue sometimes serve no purpose except to make a trifle clearer the character of the actors, or perhaps slightly to heighten the impression of commonplace reality. Even in “Sin and Sorrow” and “A Protégée” whole passages merely illustrate the background against which the plot is set rather than help forward the action itself. Many plays, such as “A Family Affair,” end with relatively unimportant pieces of dialogue. Of others we are left to guess even the conclusion of the main action: will Nádya in “A Protégée” submit to her degrading fate, or will she seek refuge in the pond?

Ostróvsky rarely uses the drama to treat of great moral or social problems. He is not a revolutionary thinker or an opponent of existing society; his ideal, like that of his predecessor Gógol, is of honesty, kindliness, generosity, and loyalty in a broad, general way to the traditions of the past. He attacks serfdom not as an isolated leader of a forlorn hope, but as an adherent of a great party of moderate reformers.

Thus Ostróvsky’s strength lies in a sedate, rather commonplace realism. One of the most national of authors, he loses much in translation.1 His style is racy, smacking of the street or the counting-house; he is one of the greatest masters of the Russian vernacular. To translate his Moscow slang into the equivalent dialect of New York would be merely to transfer Broadway associations to the Ilyínka. A translator can only strive to be colloquial and familiar, giving up the effort to render the varying atmosphere of the different plays. And Ostróvsky’s characters are as natural as his language. Pig-headed merchants; apprentices, knavish or honest as the case may be; young girls with a touch of poetry in their natures, who sober down into kindly housewives; tyrannical serf-owners and weak-willed sons of noble families: such is the material of which he builds his entertaining, wholesome, mildly thoughtful dramas. Men and women live and love, trade and cheat in Ostróvsky as they do in the world around us. Now and then a murder or a suicide appears in his pages as it does in those of the daily papers, but hardly more frequently. In him we can study the life of Russia as he knew it, crude and coarse and at times cruel, yet full of homely virtue and aspiration. Of his complex panorama the present volume gives a brief glimpse.

A Protégée of the Mistress

Scenes From Village Life in Four Pictures

Characters

MADAM ULANBÉKOV,1 an old woman of nearly sixty, tall, thin, with a large nose, and thick, black eyebrows; of an Eastern type of face, with a small mustache. She is powdered and rouged, and dressed richly in black. She is owner of two thousand serfs.

LEONÍD, her son, eighteen years old, very handsome, resembling his mother slightly. Wears summer dress. Is studying in Petersburg.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA, a toady of MADAM ULANBÉKOV’S, an old maid of forty. Scanty hair, parted slantingly, combed high, and held by a large comb. She is continually smiling with a wily expression, and she suffers from toothache; about her throat is a yellow shawl fastened by a brooch.

POTÁPYCH, the old steward. Tie and vest, white; coat black. Has an air of importance.

NADÉZHDA2 (called NÁDYA), seventeen years old, favorite protégée of MADAM ULANBÉKOV; dressed like a young lady.

GAVRÍLOVNA, the housekeeper; an elderly woman, plump, with an open countenance.

GRÍSHA, a boy of nineteen, a favorite of the mistress, dandified in dress, wearing a watch with a gold chain. He is handsome, curly-headed, with a foolish expression.

NEGLIGÉNTOV, a clerk in a government office; a very disreputable young man.

LÍZA, a housemaid, not bad-looking, but very stout and snub-nosed; in a white dress, of which the bodice is short and ill-fitting. About her neck is a little red kerchief; her hair is very much pomaded.

A peasant girl, a footman, and a housemaid: mute personages.

The action takes place in the springtime, at the suburban estate of MADAM ULANBÉKOV

A Protégée of the Mistress

I

Part of a densely grown garden; on the right benches; at the back a rail fence, separating the garden from a field.

Scene I

Enter NÁDYA and LÍZA

NÁDYA. No, Líza, don’t say that: what comparison could there be between country and city life!

LÍZA. What is there so specially fine about city life?

NÁDYA. Well, everything is different there; the people themselves, and even the whole social order are entirely different. [She sits down on a bench.] When I was in Petersburg with the mistress, one had only to take a look at the sort of people who came to see us, and at the way our rooms were decorated; besides, the mistress took me with her everywhere; we even went on the steamer to Peterhof, and to Tsarskoe Selo.

LÍZA. That was pretty fine, I suppose.

NÁDYA. Yes indeed, it was so splendid that words can’t describe it! Because, no matter how much I may tell you about it, if you haven’t seen it yourself, you’ll never understand. And when a young lady, the mistress’s niece, was visiting us, I used to chat with her the whole evening, and sometimes we even sat through the night.

LÍZA. What in the world did you talk about with her?

NÁDYA. Well, naturally, for the most part about the ways of high society, about her dancing partners, and about the officers of the guard. And as she was often at balls, she told me what they talked about there, and whom she had liked best. Only how fine those young ladies are!

LÍZA. What do you mean?

NÁDYA. They’re very gay. And where did they learn all that? Afterwards we lived a whole winter in Moscow. Seeing all this, my dear, you try to act like a born lady yourself. Your very manners change, and you try to have a way of talking of your own.

LÍZA. But why should we try to be fine ladies? Much good it does!

NÁDYA. Much good, you say? Well, you see the ladies promised to marry me off, so I am trying to educate myself, so that no one’ll be ashamed to take me. You know what sort of wives our officials have; well, what a lot they are! And I understand life and society ten times better than they do. Now I have just one hope: to marry a good man, so I may be the mistress of my own household. You just watch then how I’ll manage the house; it will be no worse at my house than at any fine lady’s.

LÍZA. God grant your wish! But do you notice how the young master is running after you?

NÁDYA. Much good it’ll do him! Of course, he’s a pretty fellow, you might even say, a beauty; only he has nothing to expect from me; because I am decidedly not of that sort; and on the other hand, I’m trying now in every way that there may be no scandal of any sort about me. I have but one thing in mind: to get married.

LÍZA. Even married life is sometimes no joy! You may get such a husband that … God help you!

NÁDYA. What a joy it would be to me to marry a really fine man! I, thank God, am able to distinguish between people: who is good, who bad. That’s easy to see at once from their manners and conversation. But the mistress is so unreasonable in holding us in so strictly, and in keeping everlasting watch over us! Indeed, it’s insulting to me! I’m a girl that knows how to take care of herself without any watching.

LÍZA. It looks as if the master were coming.

NÁDYA. Then let’s go. [They rise and go out.

LEONÍD comes in with a gun.

Scene II

Leoníd and then POTÁPYCH

LEONÍD. Wait a bit! Hey, you, where are you going? Why are they always running away from me? You can’t catch them anyhow! [He stands musing. Silence.

A GIRL sings behind the rail fence:

“No man may hope to flee the sting
       Of cruel affliction’s pain;
     New love within the heart may sing—
       Regret still in its train.”

LEONÍD. [Running up to the fence] What a pretty girl you are!

GIRL. Pretty, but not yours!

LEONÍD. Come here!

GIRL. Where?

LEONÍD. To me in the garden.

GIRL. Why go to you?

LEONÍD. I’ll go to town and buy you earrings.

GIRL. You’re only a kid!

She laughs loudly and goes out. LEONÍD stands with bowed head musing. POTÁPYCH enters in hunting-dress, with a gun.

POTÁPYCH. One can’t keep up with you, sir; you have young legs.

LEONÍD. [All the while lost in thought] All this, Potápych, will be mine.

POTÁPYCH. All yours, sir, and we shall all be yours…. Just as we served the old master, so we must serve you…. Because you’re of the same blood…. That’s the right way. Of course, may God prolong your dear mamma’s days….

LEONÍD. Then I shan’t enter the service, Potápych; I shall come directly to the country, and here I shall live.

POTÁPYCH. You must enter the service, sir.

LEONÍD. What’s that you say? Much I must! They’ll make me a copying clerk! [He sits down upon a bench.

POTÁPYCH. No, sir, why should you work yourself? That’s not the way to do things! They’ll find a position for you—of the most gentlemanly, delicate sort; your clerks will work, but you’ll be their chief, over all of them. And promotions will come to you of themselves.

LEONÍD. Perhaps they will make me vice-governor, or elect me marshal of the nobility.

POTÁPYCH. It’s not improbable.

LEONÍD. Well, and when I’m vice-governor, shall you be afraid of me?

POTÁPYCH. Why should I be afraid? Let others cringe, but for us it’s all the same. You are our master: that’s honor enough for us.

LEONÍD. [Not hearing] Tell me, Potápych, have we many pretty girls here?

POTÁPYCH. Why, really, sir, if you think it over, why shouldn’t there be girls? There are some on the estate, and among the house servants; only it must be said that in these matters the household is very strictly run. Our mistress, owing to her strict life and her piety, looks after that very carefully. Now just take this: she herself marries off the protégées and housemaids whom she likes. If a man pleases her, she marries the girl off to him, and even gives her a dowry, not a big one—needless to say. There are always two or three protégées on the place. The mistress takes a little girl from some one or other and brings her up; and when she is seventeen or eighteen years old, then, without any talk, she marries her off to some clerk or townsman, just as she takes a notion, and sometimes even to a nobleman. Ah, yes, sir! Only what an existence for these protégées, sir! Misery!

LEONÍD. But why?

POTÁPYCH. They have a hard time. The lady says: “I have found you a prospective husband, and now,” she says, “the wedding will be on such and such a day, and that’s an end to it; and don’t one of you dare to argue about it!” It’s a case of get along with you to the man you’re told to. Because, sir, I reason this way: who wants to see disobedience in a person he’s brought up? And sometimes it happens that the bride doesn’t like the groom, nor the groom the bride: then the lady falls into a great rage. She even goes out of her head. She took a notion to marry one protégée to a petty shopkeeper in town; but he, an unpolished individual, was going to resist. “The bride doesn’t please me,” he said, “and, besides, I don’t want to get married yet.” So the mistress complained at once to the town bailiff and to the priest: well, they brought the blockhead round.

LEONÍD. You don’t say.

POTÁPYCH. Yes, sir. And even if the mistress sees a girl at one of her acquaintances’, she immediately looks up a husband for her. Our mistress reasons this way: that they are stupid; that if she doesn’t look after them closely now, they’ll just waste their life and never amount to anything. That’s the way, sir. Some people, because of their stupidity, hide girls from the mistress, so that she may never set eyes on them; because if she does, it’s all up with the girls.

LEONÍD. And so she treats other people’s girls the same way?

POTÁPYCH. Other people’s, too. She extends her care to everybody. She has such a kind heart that she worries about everybody. She even gets angry if they do anything without her permission. And the way she looks after her protégées is just a wonder. She dresses them as if they were her own daughters. Sometimes she has them eat with her; and she doesn’t make them do any work. “Let everybody look,” says the mistress, “and see how my protégées live; I want every one to envy them,” she says.

LEONÍD. Well, now, that’s fine, Potápych.

POTÁPYCH. And what a touching little sermon she reads them when they’re married! “You,” she says, “have lived with me in wealth and luxury, and have had nothing to do; now you are marrying a poor man, and will live your life in poverty, and will work, and will do your duty. And now forget,” she says, “how you lived here, because not for you I did all this; I was merely diverting myself, but you must never even think of such a life; always remember your insignificance, and of what station you are.” And all this so feelingly that there are tears in her own eyes.

LEONÍD. Well, now, that’s fine.

POTÁPYCH. I don’t know how to describe it, sir. Somehow they all get tired of married life later; they mostly pine away.

LEONÍD. Why do they pine away, Potápych?

POTÁPYCH. Must be they don’t like it, if they pine away.

LEONÍD. That’s queer.

POTÁPYCH. The husbands mostly turn out ruffians.

LEONÍD. Is that so?

POTÁPYCH. Everybody hopes to get one of our protégées, because the mistress right away becomes his patroness. Now in the case of these she marries to government clerks, there’s a good living for the husband; because if they want to drive him out of the court, or have done so, he goes at once to our mistress with a complaint, and she’s a regular bulwark for him; she’ll bother the governor himself. And then the government clerk can get drunk or anything else, and not be afraid of anybody, unless he is insubordinate or steals a lot….

LEONÍD. But, say, Potápych, why is it that the girls run away from me?

POTÁPYCH. How can they help running? They must run, sir!

LEONÍD. Why must they?

POTÁPYCH. Hm! Why? Why, because, as you are still under age, the mistress wants to watch over you as she ought to; well, and she watches over them, too.

LEONÍD. She watches us, ha, ha, ha!

POTÁPYCH. Yes, sir. That’s the truth! She was talking about that. You’re a child, just like a dove, but, well—the girls are foolish. [Silence] What next, sir? It’s your mamma’s business to be strict, because she is a lady. But why should you mind her! You ought to act for yourself, as all young gentlemen do. You don’t have to suffer because she’s strict. Why should you let others get ahead of you? That’d disgrace you.

LEONÍD. Well, well, but I don’t know how to talk to the girls.

POTÁPYCH. But what’s the use of talking to them a long time? What about? What kind of sciences would you talk about with them? Much they understand such stuff! You’re just the master, and that’s all.

LEONÍD. [Glances to one side] Who’s this coming? That’s NÁDYA, evidently. Ah, Potápych, how pretty she is!

POTÁPYCH. She is related to me, sir, my niece. Her father was set free by the late master; he was employed in a confectioner’s in Moscow. When her mother died, her mistress took and brought her up, and is awful fond of her. And because her father is dead, why, now, she’s an orphan. She’s a good girl.

LEONÍD. Looks as if they were coming this way.

POTÁPYCH. Well, let ’em.

GAVRÍLOVNA and NÁDYA enter.

Scene III

The same, GAVRÍLOVNA and NÁDYA

GAVRÍLOVNA. How do you do, good master?

LEONÍD. [Bows] How do you do?

GAVRÍLOVNA. Well, master, I suppose you’re bored in the country?

LEONÍD. No, not at all.

GAVRÍLOVNA. What, not bored yet! Why, you see it’s like a monastery here; they look after you with a hundred eyes. Well, as for you, it goes without saying, you’re a young gentleman, you ought to have some amusement; but you can’t. It’s no great joy to shoot ducks! [She laughs.

LEONÍD. [Going up to GAVRÍLOVNA] Yes, yes, Gavrílovna.

NÁDYA. [To GAVRÍLOVNA] Let’s go.

GAVRÍLOVNA. Where do you want to go? Now, seeing that the mistress isn’t at home, you ought to have a little fun with the young master. That’s what young folks need. And what a clever girl she is, master! In talking, and in everything.

NÁDYA. Come, what’s the use!

GAVRÍLOVNA. Well, there’s no harm in it! I was young once. I didn’t run away from the gentlemen, and you see they didn’t eat me. Perhaps even he won’t bite you. Quit playing the prude, and stay here! But I’m going to get the tea ready! Good-by, good master! [She goes out.

LEONÍD. Why did you not wish to remain with me?

POTÁPYCH. What’s this, sir! You talk to her as if she were a young lady! Call her Nádya!

LEONÍD. What are you afraid of, Nádya?

NÁDYA is silent.

POTÁPYCH. Talk! What are you keeping still for? And I’m going, sir; I must get dressed for tea, too. [He goes out.

Scene IV

LEONÍD, NÁDYA, and then LÍZA

NÁDYA. Of course I’m a girl of humble position, but, indeed, even we do not want anybody to speak evil of us. Pray consider yourself, after such talk, who would marry me?

LEONÍD. Are you going to get married?

NÁDYA. Yes, sir. Every girl hopes to get married some time.

LEONÍD. But have you a suitor?

NÁDYA. Not yet, sir.

LEONÍD. [Timidly] If you have no suitor, then, maybe you’re in love with somebody?

NÁDYA. You want to know a lot! Well, no, I needn’t fib about it, I’m not in love with anybody, sir.

LEONÍD. [With great joy] Then love me!

NÁDYA. It’s impossible to force the heart, sir.

LEONÍD. Why? Don’t you like me?

NÁDYA. Well, how could I help liking you? But I’m not your equal! What sort of love is that? Clean ruin! Here comes Líza running after me, I suppose. Good-by. Good luck to you! [She goes away.

LÍZA comes in.

LÍZA. Master, if you please! Your mamma has come.

LEONÍD. Líza!

LÍZA. [Approaching] What is it, please?

LEONÍD. [He embraces LÍZA; she trembles with pleasure] Why won’t Nádya love me?

LÍZA. [Affectedly] What are you talking about, master! Girls of our sort must look out for themselves!

LEONÍD. Look out for yourselves how?

LÍZA. [Looks him in the face and smiles] Why, everybody knows. What are you talking like a child for?

LEONÍD. [Sadly] What shall I do now? Indeed, I don’t know. They all run away from me.

LÍZA. But don’t lose courage; just make love a little bit. Heavens, our hearts aren’t of stone!

LEONÍD. But see here! I asked her: she said she didn’t love me.

LÍZA. Well, if you aren’t a queer one! Whoever asked girls right out whether they were in love or not! Even if one of us girls was in love, she wouldn’t say so.

LEONÍD. Why?

LÍZA. Because she’s bashful. Only let me go, sir! [She gets free] There goes the old fury!

LEONÍD. Come out here into the garden after supper, when mamma goes to bed.

LÍZA. You don’t lose any time!

LEONÍD. Please come.

LÍZA. Well, we’ll see later. [VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA enters] Master, please come to tea, your mamma is waiting.

LEONÍD. All right, I’m coming.

Scene V

The same and VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. I saw you, my dear, I saw you.

LÍZA. There was nothing to see. [She goes out.

LEONÍD. Well, what did you see? What are you going to complain about? I shall simply say that you lie. Whom are they going to believe quicker, you or me?

[He makes a grimace and goes out.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. There, that’s the way they all treat me. I can’t stand it! My heart is just sick. I’m a martyr in this world. [She plucks a flower viciously and pulls off its petals] I believe that if I had the power I’d do this to all of you! I’d do this to all of you! I’d do this to all of you! You just wait, you young scamp! I’ll catch you. My heart boils, it boils, it boils over! And now I must smirk before the mistress as if I were a fool. What a life! What a life! The sinners in hell do not suffer as I suffer in this house! [She goes out.

II

A parlor. Rear centre, a door opening into the garden. Doors at the sides; in the centre a round table.

Scene I

From a side door there enter a footman with a samovar and a maid with a tea-service; they place both on the table and go out. GAVRÍLOVNA and POTÁPYCH enter after them. GAVRÍLOVNA prepares the tea. VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA enters from the garden.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. My dear, you always serve me only water.

GAVRÍLOVNA. It isn’t good for you to drink strong tea, madam.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. It’s not your business to worry about me!

GAVRÍLOVNA. It dries up the chest, and you’re all dried up as it is.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. What a life! What a life! I am not dried up from tea-drinking, my dear, but from the insults of the world.

GAVRÍLOVNA. Insults! You insult everybody yourself, as if something were stirring you up!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Don’t you dare talk to me like that. Just remember who you are. I once owned serfs myself; at my place, such people as you didn’t dare peep, they walked the chalk. I didn’t let your sort get high-headed!

GAVRÍLOVNA. That time’s gone by. God gives a vicious cow no horns.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Oh, you monsters, wretches! You want me to die. Soon I shall die, soon; my soul feels its fast approaching end! Raising her eyes heavenward Shelter me from men, O lid of my coffin! Take me to thee, moist earth! Then you’ll be happy; then you’ll be joyful!

POTÁPYCH. We? What’s it to us?…. Tend to your own business.

GAVRÍLOVNA. While God is patient with your sins.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. For my sins I have already been tortured here. I mourn now the sins of others.

GAVRÍLOVNA. It would be better for you not to bother with other people’s sins. Now you’re getting ready to die, yet you talk about the sins of others. Aren’t you afraid?

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Afraid of what? Why should I be afraid?

GAVRÍLOVNA. Of that little black man with the hook. He’s waiting for you now, I guess.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Where am I? Where am I? My God! Just as if I were in a slough; monsters….

From the left side MADAM ULANBÉKOV, NÁDYA, LÍZA, and GRÍSHA come in.

Scene II

The same and MADAM ULANBÉKOV, GRÍSHA, NÁDYA, and LÍZA.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Did our benefactress deign to attend prayer service?

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Yes, I went to vespers in town; to-day is a holiday there.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Did you distribute generous alms among the people present?

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. No, I only called in Pustaya Street at old man NEGLIGÉNTOV’s. He asked me to set up his nephew; you see, the nephew is my godson. I’m sorry for these people!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. And you, dear soul, are a benefactress to all. To all alike, to all! You do favors to people who aren’t even worth your looking at.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. [Sits down] Never mind, my dear. One must do good to his neighbor.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. But do they feel that good? Can they understand, heartless creatures, how great is your condescension to them?

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. It’s all the same to me, my dear! One must do good for his own sake, for his own soul. Then I stopped in to see the chief of police, and asked him to make NEGLIGÉNTOV head-clerk.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. But, my benefactress, is he worthy?

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Don’t interrupt! A strange man, our chief of police! I ask him, and he says: “There’s no job!” I say to him: “You evidently don’t understand who’s asking you?” “Well!” says he, “do you expect me to drive out a good man for your godson?” Churlish fellow! However, he promised!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. To think of his hesitating! I cannot understand how he could even talk back to you. Here his ill-breeding shows up at once. Maybe NEGLIGÉNTOV, because of his life, isn’t worth saying much about; nevertheless, the chief ought to do everything in the world for him for your sake, no matter how worthless a scamp NEGLIGÉNTOV might be.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Don’t you forget that he’s my godson!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. And for that very reason, benefactress, I add: he is your godson; well, and that’s all there is to it; the chief of police ought not to listen to any kind of gossip. And, besides, what things they do say! They say that he’s utterly worthless, that his uncle got him a court job, but he won’t stay with it. He was gone a whole week, they say, somewhere or other about three miles down the highroad, near the tavern, fishing. Yes, and that he is a drunkard beyond his years. But whose business is it? He must be worthy of it, since you ask it.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. I’ve never heard that. I’ve never seen him drunk; but I spoke to the chief of police on his behalf, because he’s my godson. I take his mother’s place.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. I know, benefactress, I know; every one knows that if you take a notion, you, my benefactress, can make a man out of mud; but if you don’t take a notion to do so, he’ll fall into insignificance no matter how brainy he may be. He’s to blame himself, because he didn’t deserve it!

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. I’m sure I never did any one any harm.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Harm? You, who because of your angelic heart wouldn’t hurt even a fly! Of course all we mortals are not without sins; you have done many things; you can’t please everybody. Indeed, to tell the truth, my dear benefactress, there are people enough who complain about you.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Who complains about me? What a lie!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. It’s impossible for you to know everything, dear benefactress. And it’s not worth while for you, in your gentility, to trouble yourself about every low-lived person. And though they do complain, what’s the use of paying attention; are they worth your notice? Since you do so many good deeds for others, God will forgive you, our benefactress.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. All the same, I want to know whom I have offended?

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Well, there are some persons, benefactress.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. [Forcibly] But who? Speak!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Don’t be angry, benefactress! I spoke as I did because you yourself know how touchy people are nowadays—never satisfied.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. You spoke as you did in order to cause me some unpleasantness.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. May my eyes burst if I did.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Well, I know you. You’re never at rest in your own soul unless you’re about to say something mean. You will please be more careful; otherwise you’ll drive me out of patience one of these days; it’ll be all the worse for you. [Silence] Serve the tea.

GAVRÍLOVNA. Right away, mistress.

She pours out two cups. POTÁPYCH hands them to MADAM ULANBÉKOV and to VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Pour Grísha a cup, too; he went with me to-day, and he’s tired out.

GAVRÍLOVNA. Yes, mistress.

[She pours out a cup and hands it to GRÍSHA.

GRÍSHA. Why didn’t you put more milk in it? Are you stingy, eh?

GAVRÍLOVNA. [Adding milk] As it is, you’re fattened on milk, like a calf.

GRÍSHA takes the cup and goes out through the door into the garden.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. I have thought of marrying NÁDYA to NEGLIGÉNTOV—with a decent settlement, of course. You say that he leads a bad life; consequently we must hasten the wedding. She is a girl of good principles, she’ll hold him back, otherwise he’ll ruin himself with his bachelor habits. Bachelor life is very bad for young men.

NÁDYA. [To LÍZA] Do you hear, Líza? What’s this? My God!

LÍZA. You just have to listen, and you can’t say a word.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. It’s high time she was married, benefactress; why should she be hanging around here? And now your young son, the angel, has come.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Oh, be still! What are you thinking up now? Why, he’s only a child!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. A child, benefactress! Well, there’s nothing more to be said; God gave you a son as a joy and a consolation. And we can never feast our eyes enough on him. It’s just as if the sunshine had come into our house. So good-natured, so merry, so gentle with every one! But he’s already running after the girls so; he never lets one pass; and they, silly things, are tickled to death; they fairly snort with delight.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. You’re lying. He never has a chance to see the girls anywhere, I think; all day long they are in their own side of the house, and, besides, they never go anywhere.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Ah, benefactress, there are no locks to keep a girl in, once she takes a notion to do something.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. You hear, Gavrílovna! Look after my girls. You know I won’t have any loose conduct. You tell them that so they’ll know I mean it. [To VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA] But no, there can’t be anything like that. You’re merely disturbing me with your silly notions. What a dirty tongue you have! What business had you to chatter? And now I can’t get the stuff out of my head! Keep watch, Gavrílovna!

GAVRÍLOVNA. What’s the use of listening to her, mistress?

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. But really, benefactress, am I saying anything bad? Would I dare to think any harm about him, that little angel? Of course he’s still a child, he wants to frisk a little; but here he hasn’t any companions, so he plays with the girls.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. There’s poison on your tongue. [She reflects. POTÁPYCH takes the cups. GAVRÍLOVNA fills them and gives them back. GRÍSHA comes in from the garden, gives GAVRÍLOVNA a push, and makes a sign with his head that she is to pour him another cup. GAVRÍLOVNA does so. GRÍSHA goes out] However, I must marry off Nádya.

NÁDYA. [Almost weeping] Mistress, you have shown me such kindness that I can’t even express it. Forgive me for daring to speak to you now; but, because of your attitude towards me, I expected quite a different favor from you. In what respect have I displeased you now, mistress, that you wish to marry me to a drunkard?

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. My dear, it’s not for you to argue about that; you’re just a girl. You ought to rely in all things upon me, your patroness. I brought you up, and I am even bound to establish you in life. And again, you ought not to forget this: that he is my godson. Rather, you ought to be thankful for the honor. And now I tell you once and for all: I do not like it when my girls argue, I simply do not like it, and that’s all there is to it. That’s a thing I cannot permit anybody. I’ve been accustomed, from my youth, to having people obey my every word; it’s time you knew that! And it’s very strange to me, my dear, that you should presume to oppose me. I see that I have spoiled you; and you at once get conceited. [NÁDYA weeps.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Benefactress, one must have feeling for his fellow creature, one must have feeling. But what kind of feelings can such as they have, save ingratitude?

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. No one’s talking to you! What are you mixing into everything for? [To NÁDYA, sternly] What new tale is this? Still crying! Let’s have no more tears! [NÁDYA weeps] I’m talking to you. [Rising slightly] Your tears mean absolutely nothing to me! When I make up my mind to do a thing, I take a firm stand, and listen to no one on earth! [She sits down] And know, first of all, that your obstinacy will lead to nothing; you will simply anger me.

NÁDYA. [Weeping] I’m an orphan, mistress! Your will must be obeyed!

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Well, I should say! Of course it must; because I brought you up; that’s equal to giving you life itself.

LEONÍD enters.

Scene III

The same and LEONÍD

LEONÍD. How are you, mamma?

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. How are you, my dear? Where have you been?

LEONÍD. I went hunting with Potápych. I killed two ducks, mamma.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. You don’t spare your mother; the idea, going hunting in your state of health! You’ll fall sick again, God forbid! and then you’ll simply kill me! Ah, my God, how I have suffered with that child! [She muses.

GAVRÍLOVNA. Some tea, master?

LEONÍD. No, thanks.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. [To VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA] When he was born, I was ill a very long time. Then he was always sickly, and he grew up puny. How many tears have I shed over him! Sometimes I would just look at him, and my tears would flow; no, it will never be my lot to see him in the uniform of the guardsmen! But it was most distressing of all for me when his father, owing to the boy’s poor health, was unable to send him to a military school. How much it cost me to renounce the thought that he might become a soldier! For half a year I was ill. Just imagine to yourself, my dear, when he finishes his course, they will give him some rank or other, such as they give to any priest’s son clerking in a government office! Isn’t it awful? In the military service, especially in the cavalry, all ranks are aristocratic; one knows at once that even a junker is from the nobility. But what is a provincial secretary, or a titular councillor! Any one can be a titular councillor—even a merchant, a church-school graduate, a low-class townsman, if you please. You have only to study, then serve awhile. Why, one of the petty townsmen who is apt at learning will get a rank higher than his! That’s the way of the world! That’s the way of the world! Oh, dear! [She turns away with a wave of her hand] I don’t like to pass judgment on anything that is instituted by higher authority, and won’t permit others to do so, but, nevertheless, I don’t approve of this system. I shall always say loudly that it’s unjust, unjust.

LEONÍD. Why are Nádya’s eyes red from crying?

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. She hasn’t been flogged for a long time.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. That’s none of your business, my dear. Nádya, go away, you’re not needed here.

[NÁDYA goes out.]

LEONÍD. Well, I know why: you want to marry her off.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Whether I do or not, my dear, is my own business. Furthermore, I do not like to have any one meddle in my arrangements.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. What a clever young man you are; you know everything, you get into everything!

LEONÍD. Indeed, mamma dear, I don’t mean to meddle in your arrangements. Only he’s a drunkard.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. And that, again, is none of your business. Leave that to your mother’s judgment.

LEONÍD. I’m only sorry for her, mamma.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. All very fine, my dear; but I should like to know from whom you heard that I’m going to marry NÁDYA. If one of the housemaids has….

LEONÍD. No, mamma, no.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. How could you find out otherwise? How did that get out? [To GAVRÍLOVNA] Find out without fail!

LEONÍD. No, indeed, mamma; the man she’s going to marry told me.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. What sort of a man?

LEONÍD. I don’t know what sort! He said he was a clerk in a government office…. a peculiar surname: NEGLIGÉNTOV. What a funny fellow he is! He says he’s your godson, and that he’s afraid of nobody. He’s dancing in the garden now, drunk.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Drunk, in my house!

LEONÍD. If you want, I’ll invite him in. Potápych, call NEGLIGÉNTOV! He said that you were at his uncle’s to-day, and that you promised to give him Nádya. Already he’s reckoning, in anticipation, how much income he will get in the court, or “savings,” as he says. What a funny fellow! He showed me how they taught him at school. Do you want me to bring him in?

Enter POTÁPYCH and NEGLIGÉNTOV.

Scene IV

The same, NEGLIGÉNTOV and POTÁPYCH

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Oh, oh, how disgusting! Don’t come near me!

NEGLIGÉNTOV. I’m sent from uncle to thank you for your bounty.

LEONÍD. He says, mamma, that they taught him a good deal, only it was impossible for him to learn anything.

NEGLIGÉNTOV. Impossible; from my birth I had no aptitude for the sciences. I received from fifty to a hundred birch rods nearly every day, but they didn’t quicken my understanding.

LEONÍD. Oh, mamma, how amusingly he tells about the way he learned! Here, just listen. Well, and how did you learn Latin?

NEGLIGÉNTOV. Turpissime!

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. [Shrugging her shoulders] What in the world is that?

NEGLIGÉNTOV. Most abominably.

LEONÍD. No, wait a bit; and what did the teacher do with you?

NEGLIGÉNTOV. [Bursts out laughing] It made you laugh. Once, after a cruel torture, he commanded two students to fasten me by the neck with a belt, and to lead me through the market-place as a laughing-stock.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. How is it they took you into the civil service if you never learned anything?

NEGLIGÉNTOV. Through the mediation of influential people.

LEONÍD. And did they expel you from school?

NEGLIGÉNTOV. They didn’t expel me; but they excluded me because I grew too much.

LEONÍD. Grew too much?

NEGLIGÉNTOV. Well, as I, during all this teaching and grilling, remaining in the lower grades, was getting on in years, and grew more than the other fellows of my class, of course I was excluded because I was too big. I suffered all the more from the venality of those at the head. Our rector liked gifts; and a week before the examinations, he sent us all to our parents for presents. According to the number of these presents, we were promoted to the higher classes.

LEONÍD. What was your conduct like?

NEGLIGÉNTOV. Reprehensible.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. What in the world! Good heavens! Go away, my dear sir, go away!

LEONÍD. Oh, mamma, he’s comical; wait a bit before driving him out. Dance, NEGLIGÉNTOV!

NEGLIGÉNTOV. [Dances and sings]

“I shall go, shall go to mow
Upon the meadow green.”

GRÍSHA bursts out laughing.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Stop, stop! [NEGLIGÉNTOV ceases. To GRÍSHA] What are you laughing at?

GRÍSHA. The member dances very comically.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. What do you mean, “member”?

GRÍSHA. Why, he himself tells us all that he is a member in the court, not a copy-clerk. And so they call him the member.

NEGLIGÉNTOV. I call myself the member, although falsely, but expressly for the respect of the court menials, and in order to escape scoffing and insult.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Be gone, and don’t you ever dare to show yourself to me!

NEGLIGÉNTOV. Uncle says that I fell into loose living because of my bachelor life, and that I may get mired in it unless you show me your favor.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. No, no, never!

NEGLIGÉNTOV. [On his knees] Uncle told me to beg you with tears, because I am a lost man, subject to many vices, and, without your favor, I shall not be tolerated in the civil service.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Tell your uncle that I shall always be your benefactress; but don’t you even think about a wife! Be gone, be gone!

NEGLIGÉNTOV. I thank you for not deserting me! [To GRÍSHA] Ask the mistress to let you go to the fair, and catch up with me! [He goes out.

Scene V

The same, except NEGLIGÉNTOV

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. How easy it is to be mistaken in people! You take pains for them, work your head off, and they don’t even feel it. I should have been glad to establish that boy in life, but he crawls into the house drunk. Now, if he’s a prey to that weakness, he ought, at least, to try to hide it from me. Let him drink where he will, but don’t let me see it! I should know, at least, that he respected me. What clownishness! What impudence! Whom will he be afraid of, pray tell, if not of me?

LEONÍD. Oh, what a comical fellow! Don’t be angry with me, mamma. When I found out that you wanted to marry NÁDYA to him, I felt sorry for her. And you’re so good to everybody! [He kisses her hand] I didn’t want you to do anything unjust.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Such people fairly drive you into sin. [Kissing him] You have a beautiful soul, my dear! [To VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA] Indeed, I have always thought that God himself sometimes speaks with the lips of babes. Líza! Go tell Nadezhda not to cry, that I have turned out NEGLIGÉNTOV.

LÍZA. Yes, ma’am. [She goes out.

GRÍSHA. [Approaches, swaggering, and stops in a free and easy pose] Mistress!

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. What’s the matter with you?

GRÍSHA. Let me go down-town; to-day’s a holiday there.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. What do you want to go for? To stare at the drunkards?

GRÍSHA. [Clasping his hands behind him] Please, ma’am.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. No, most certainly not!

GRÍSHA. Please do, mistress.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. I tell you, positively, no! One’s morals are just spoiled at these fairs. Your greedy ears will take in all kinds of nastiness! You’re still a boy; that’s no place for you!

GRÍSHA. No, but please let me, ma’am.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. You stay right here! Put that nonsense out of your head!

GRÍSHA. Well, I declare! I slave, and slave, and can’t ever go anywhere!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Oh me, oh my! Oh me, oh my! How spoiled you are! How spoiled you are!

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. What are you cackling about? Keep still!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. But how can I keep still, benefactress? Such lack of feeling! Such ingratitude! It pierces the heart.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. I command you to keep still, and you must keep still!

GRÍSHA. Please let me, ma’am!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. As if the mistress didn’t love you, as if she didn’t fondle you, more, if anything, than her own son!

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. [Stamping her foot] Shhh!…. I’ll turn you out!

GRÍSHA. I want awfully to go to the fair; please let me, ma’am.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Well, go along then! but come back early!

GRÍSHA. Yes, ma’am.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Kiss the dear lady’s hand, you blockhead!

GRÍSHA. What are you trying to teach me for? I know my own business. [He kisses the mistress’s hand and goes out.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. As for you, my dear, if I ever hear anything like this again, I’ll have them drive you off the place with brooms.

She goes out. VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA remains standing in a stupor.

Scene VI

The same, except MADAM ULANBÉKOV; then LÍZA

LEONÍD. Well, you caught it, didn’t you? And you deserved it, too!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. I’ll have my turn yet.

Líza enters.

LÍZA. [Quietly to LEONÍD] Nádya sent me to say that we’ll come to the garden.

LEONÍD. Give her a kiss from me.

GAVRÍLOVNA. God give you health, master, for taking our part. Any wretch can insult us; but there’s no one to take our part. You’ll get a rich reward for that in the next world.

LEONÍD. I’m always ready to help you. [He goes out to the right, with a caper.

GAVRÍLOVNA. Thanks, my dear! [She goes out with LÍZA, to the left.

Scene VII

Vasilísa Peregrínovna and Potápych

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Why don’t you insult me? They all insult me, why don’t you? You heard how she herself wanted to flog me; “I’ll have them do it with brooms,” she said. May her words choke her!

POTÁPYCH. What, I!…. I insult anybody! But as to the gentlefolk there … I don’t know, but perhaps they have to.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Do you see what’s going on in this house! Do you see? Do you understand it, or don’t you? Just now when I began to talk about Grísha, you heard how she began to roar? You heard how she began to hiss?

POTÁPYCH. What’s that to me? I, by the mistress’s kindness, in her employ….I shall carry out all her orders…. What business is it of mine? I don’t want to know anything that isn’t my business.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. But did you see how Nádya and Líza—the hussies!—looked at me? Did you see how the snakes looked? Ha! I must look after them, I must! [POTÁPYCH, with a wave of his hand, goes out] Bah! you! you old blockhead! What people! What people! There’s no one to whom I can talk, and relieve my heart. [She goes out.

III

Part of the garden; to the rear, a pond, on the shore of which is a boat. Starry night. A choral song is heard in the far distance. For a while the stage is empty.

Scene I

Enter NÁDYA and LÍZA

LÍZA. Oh, Nádya, what’s this we’re doing? When the mistress hears of this, it’ll be your last day on earth.

NÁDYA. If you’re afraid, take yourself home.

LÍZA. No, I’ll wait for you. But all the same, my girl, it’s awful, no matter what you say! Lord preserve us when she finds it out.

NÁDYA. Always singing the same tune! If you fear the wolf, keep out of the woods.

LÍZA. But what has happened to you? Before, you didn’t talk like this. You used to hide yourself; and now you go to him of your own accord.

NÁDYA. Yes, before I ran away from him; now I don’t want to. [She stands musing] Now I myself don’t know what has suddenly happened within me! Just when the mistress said, a short while ago, that I shouldn’t dare to argue, but marry the man she said to marry, just then my whole heart revolted. “Oh, Lord, what a life for me!” I thought. [She weeps] What’s the use in my living purely, guarding myself not merely from every word, but even from every look? Even so, evil seized upon me. “Why,” I thought, “should I guard myself?” I don’t want to! I don’t want to! It was just as if my heart died within me. It seemed that if she said another word, I should die on the spot.

LÍZA. What are you saying! Why, I really thought you were coming to the master as a joke.

NÁDYA. As a joke! I can’t bear an insult! I cannot. [Silence] Oh, Líza, if life were better, I shouldn’t have come into the garden at night. You know how it used to be, when I would think about myself—I suppose it must have come into your head, too—that here you are, an honest girl; you live like a bird, suddenly you’re fascinated by some man, he makes love to you, comes to see you often, kisses you…. You’re abashed before him, yet happy to see him. That’s the way it always is. Although you may not be rich; although it may be you have to sit with your lover in the servants’ room; yet it is as if you were a queen, just as if every day were a holiday for you. Then they marry you, and all congratulate you. Well, then, no matter how hard married life may be, perhaps there may be lots of work, in spite of that you live as if in paradise; just as if you were proud of something.

LÍZA. Naturally, my girl.

NÁDYA. But when they say to you: “Pack off to this drunkard, and don’t you dare argue, and don’t you dare cry over yourself!”…. Oh, Líza!…. And then you think how that horrid man will make fun of you, will bully you, show his authority, will begin to ruin your life, all for nothing! You grow old by his side without having a chance to live. [She weeps] It breaks your heart even to tell about it! [Waving her hand] And so, indeed, the young master is better.

LÍZA. Oh, Nádya; it would be better if you hadn’t spoken, and I hadn’t listened!

NÁDYA. Stop, Líza! Why are you playing the prude with me? What would you do yourself if the master fell in love with you?

LÍZA. [Stammering] Well, how should I know? Of course, what shall I say…. the old Nick is strong.

NÁDYA. There you are!…. [Silence] Here is what I wanted to say to you, Líza. What a strange inspiration has come over me! When such thoughts came into my head, and, Líza, when I began to think about the master—then how dear he became to me!…. so dear, that, really, I can’t tell…. Before, when he ran after me, I didn’t care; but now it’s just as if something drew me to him.

LÍZA. Oh, my girl! Just think of it; surely this is fate!

NÁDYA. And such a spirit came into me, I am afraid of nothing! I feel as if you could cut me to pieces, and still I’d not change my mind. And why this is so, I don’t know. [Silence] I could hardly wait till night! It seems as if I could fly to him on wings! The one thing that I have in mind is that, at any rate, I am not a pretty girl for nothing; I shall have something by which to remember my youth. [Musingly] I thought to myself: “What a young man, how handsome! Am I, silly girl that I am, worth his loving me?” May I be choked here, in this lonely spot, if he does not.

LÍZA. What’s this, Nádya? You seem beside yourself.

NÁDYA. And I really am beside myself. While she spoiled me, caressed me, then I thought that I was a person like other people; and my thoughts about life were entirely different. But when she began to command me, like a doll; when I saw that I was to have no will of my own, and no protection, then, Líza, despair fell upon me. What became of my fear, of my shame—I don’t know. “Only one day, but mine!” I thought; “then come what may, I don’t care to inquire. Marry me off to a herdsman, lock me in a castle with thirty locks!…. it’s all the same to me!”

LÍZA. I think the master’s coming.

LEONÍD enters from the opposite side, in a cloak.

NÁDYA. Well, Líza, isn’t he handsome, ha?

LÍZA. Oh, stop! You’re either sick or half out of your head!

Scene II

The same and LEONÍD

LEONÍD. [Approaching] I was thinking you would deceive me by not coming.

NÁDYA. Why did you think so?

LEONÍD. Well, you see, you said you didn’t love me.

NÁDYA. No matter what girls say, don’t you believe them. How could one help loving such a handsome fellow?

LEONÍD. [Surprised] Why, Nádya! He takes her hand, for a short time holds it, then kisses it.

NÁDYA. [In fright withdrawing her hand] Oh! why did you do that? Dear, kind master! Aren’t you ashamed?

LEONÍD. I love you ever so much, Nádya!

NÁDYA. You love me? Well, then, you might give me a kiss!

LEONÍD. May I, Nádya? Will you let me?

NÁDYA. What’s the harm in it?

LEONÍD. [Turning about] Oh, and you, Líza, here….

LÍZA. I’m going, I’m going … I shan’t meddle.

LEONÍD. [Confused] I didn’t mean that. Where did you get that idea?

LÍZA. Oh, don’t dodge. We know, too….

[She goes out behind the shrubs.

LEONÍD. And so you will let me kiss you? [He kisses her timidly] No, no, let me kiss your hand.

NÁDYA. [Hides her hand] No, no, how could you! What do you mean….

LEONÍD. Why not? I’ll tell you what, you are the most precious thing on earth to me.

NÁDYA. Is that really so?

LEONÍD. You see, no one ever loved me before.

NÁDYA. Aren’t you fooling?

LEONÍD. No, truly!…. Truly, no one has ever loved me. Honest to God….

NÁDYA. Don’t swear; I believe you without it.

LEONÍD. Let’s go sit down on the bench.

NÁDYA. Yes, let’s. [They sit down.

LEONÍD. Why do you tremble so?

NÁDYA. Am I trembling?

LEONÍD. You are.

NÁDYA. Then, it must be that I feel a bit chilly.

LEONÍD. Just let me wrap you up. He covers her with one side of his cloak, embracing her as he holds it around her. She takes his hand and holds it.

NÁDYA. And now let’s sit this way and talk.

LEONÍD. What are we going to talk about? I shall say only one thing to you: I love you.

NÁDYA. You will say it, and I shall listen.

LEONÍD. You’ll get tired of one and the same thing.

NÁDYA. Maybe you’ll get tired of it; I never shall.

LEONÍD. Then let me speak. I love you, little Nádya. [He rises and kisses her.

NÁDYA. Why do you do that? Just sit quietly, as we said we would.

LEONÍD. Shall we sit like this, with our hands folded?

NÁDYA. [Laughing] Like that. Hear, a nightingale is singing in the thicket. Sit down and listen. How nice it is to listen!

LEONÍD. Like this?

NÁDYA. Yes, as we sit together. It seems as if I could sit here all my life and listen. What could be better, what more could one want?….

LEONÍD. Nádya, dear, that would really be a bore.

NÁDYA. What fellows you men are! You get sick of things in no time. But I, you see, am ready to sit out the whole night, to look at you, without lowering my eyes. It seems as if I should forget the whole world!

Tears start in her eyes, she bends her head, and then looks at LEONÍD fixedly and musingly.

LEONÍD. Now it would be nice to go rowing; it is warm, the moon is shining.

NÁDYA. [Absently and almost mechanically] What is it, sir?

LEONÍD. To go rowing; I should row you out to the little island. It is so pleasant there, on the island. Well, let’s go. [He takes her by the hand.

NÁDYA. [In a revery] Where, sir?

LEONÍD. Where, where? I told you; didn’t you hear me?

NÁDYA. Oh, forgive me, dearest master. I was thinking and didn’t hear anything. Dearest master, forgive me!

[She lays her head upon his shoulder.

LEONÍD. I say, let’s go to the island.

NÁDYA. [Nestling up to him] Oh, wherever you please! Even to the end of the world! If only with you…. Take me wherever you want.

LEONÍD. Nádya, you are so good, so sweet, that it seems as if I must burst out crying, just to look at you. [They approach the boat] Good-by, Líza.

LÍZA. [Coming from the bushes, she makes a warning gesture] Look out, you two! [LEONÍD and NÁDYA sit down in the boat and move away] There, they’ve gone! And I must wait here for them! This is awful, simply awful! At night, in the garden, and all alone, too! What a fix for me—afraid of everything, and…. [She glances about her] Heavens, this is deadly! If there were only somebody here, it would be all right, I’d have somebody to talk to. Holy Saints! Somebody’s coming! [She looks] Oh, all right; just our old folks from the fair. [She hides herself.

Scene III

Enter POTÁPYCH in an overcoat and a broad-brimmed hat, and with a cane, somewhat tipsy; GAVRÍLOVNA in an old-fashioned bonnet. They sit down on the bench.

POTÁPYCH. No, Gavrílovna, not that … don’t say that!… Our lady is so … such a kind mistress!… Here, we asked if we could go to the fair, and she said to go along…. But what they say about her … that I don’t know: it’s not my business, and so I don’t know anything about it.

GAVRÍLOVNA. Why not let us go, Potápych? You and I are not youngsters; we shan’t be spoiled!

POTÁPYCH. You can’t let the young folks go, because you must have models for everything, Gavrílovna. Whatever models a person has in front of him, he may, very likely … most probably….

GAVRÍLOVNA. Well, why did she let Grísha go? She said she wouldn’t; well, and then she ought not to have done it.

POTÁPYCH. Vasilísa Peregrínovna stirred me up a lot on Grísha’s account a while ago … she stirred me up a lot, but I don’t know. It’s not my business, so I don’t know anything about it.

GAVRÍLOVNA. What’s this you were saying about models? It would be better for her to show a better example herself! As it is, she only keeps shouting: “Watch, I tell you, watch the girls!” But what’s the use of watching them? Are they all babies? Every person has his own brains in his head. Let every one think for himself. All you need to do is to look out for the five-year-olds, that they don’t spoil something or other. What a life for a girl! There’s nothing worse on earth! But the mistress doesn’t want to consider whether a girl gets much fun out of life. Well, does she get much? Say!

POTÁPYCH. [Sighs] A dog’s life.

GAVRÍLOVNA. It surely is! Consequently one ought to pity them and not insult them at every step. As it is, it’s simply awful! Nobody trusts them at all; it’s just as if they weren’t human beings. Just let a girl poke her nose out, and the guards are on the job!

POTÁPYCH. But you can’t.

GAVRÍLOVNA. Can’t what? You can do everything. That’ll do, Potápych! You’re used to saying over other people’s words like a magpie; but just think for yourself.

POTÁPYCH. But I don’t know … I don’t know anything.

GAVRÍLOVNA. You won’t gain anything through severity. You may tell ’em, if you please, that they’ll be hung for such-and-such; they’ll go and do it anyway. Where there’s the greatest strictness, there’s the most sin. You ought to reason like a human being. No matter if our masters pay money for their wits while we have only what we’re born with, we have our own way of thinking, all the same. It’s all right to lay down the law strictly; but don’t always punish a fellow who makes a slip; let him off now and then. Some bad comes from spoiling people; but now and then you can’t help going wrong.

POTÁPYCH. Now, if you ask me … what can I answer to that? How can I answer you?

GAVRÍLOVNA. Well, how?

POTÁPYCH. Just this: I don’t know anything about it, because it isn’t my business … it’s the mistress’s business.

GAVRÍLOVNA. Bah, you old idiot! You’ve lost your wits in your old age.

POTÁPYCH. Why should I … I, thanks to the lady’s kindness, now in her employ … I carry out all her orders … but I don’t know.

GAVRÍLOVNA. Well, let’s go home. She may have thought up something or other about even you and me.

[They go out.]

Scene IV

LÍZA. [Enters] Alone again! Where are those precious darlings of mine? I suppose they’ve forgotten about me! But, then, why should they remember me? Saints alive, it’ll soon be daylight. This night is shorter than a sparrow’s beak. How can we go home then? How brave that Nádya is!

Enter VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA.

Scene V

Líza and Vasilísa Peregrínovna

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. What are you doing there, dearest?

LÍZA. Can’t you see? I’m taking a stroll.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. I see! How can I help it? But what kind of a night-walk is this?

LÍZA. Well, when can we go walking? We work all day and wait on the gentry, and we go walking at night. But I am surprised at you! Don’t you walk enough daytimes that you still want to wander around at night and scare people, just like….

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Just like what?… Well, say it, say it!

LÍZA. What? Oh, nothing.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. No, you said, “Just like” … well, say it now; just like who?

LÍZA. I said what I said.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. No, don’t you dare sneak out of it! Come, speak up!

LÍZA. Why did you stick to it? All right, I’ll tell you: like a spook.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. What, what! Like a spook!… How do you dare, you dirty hussy, ha? What’s this! You want to push me alive into the grave! But I’ll find your lover here, and take you to the mistress. Then we’ll see what song you’ll sing.

LÍZA. I haven’t any lover! There’s no use in your looking. Search the whole garden if you want to! And even if I had, it’s none of your business! It’s shameful for you even to speak of it. You ought not even to know about it: you’re an old maid. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Sing on, sing on, my dear; you sing very finely on the wing; but you’ll perch pretty soon! You’re not going to roam about at night for nothing. I know your tricks. I’ll show you all up! I’m so mad now, that even if you bow down to my feet, I’ll not forgive you.

LÍZA. Just wait! I see myself bowing before you! Don’t count on it!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. No, now I’m going to look around every bush.

LÍZA. Do it!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA looks about on both sides, then approaches the pond.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Ha, what’s this? Do tell, what tricks they’re up to! In the boat! Hugging each other! How tender that is! Just like a picture! You ought to have thought to take a guitar along and sing love-songs!… They’re kissing each other! Very good! Delightful! Again! Excellent! What could be better? Phew, what an abomination! It’s disgusting to look at! Well, my dears, you will remember me. Now I have nothing to say to you. To-morrow I shall! [She goes out.

LÍZA. What devil brought her here? You can’t clear up the mess now!

LEONÍD and NÁDYA reach the shore and disembark from the boat.

Scene VI

LÍZA, NÁDYA, and LEONÍD

LÍZA. What have you done, what have you done!…

NÁDYA. [Not listening to her, softly to LEONÍD] You will come to-morrow?

LEONÍD. I will.

LÍZA. What’s the matter, don’t you hear?

NÁDYA. If I can’t come, I’ll send a note somehow or other.

LEONÍD. Good!

NÁDYA. Well, good-by. [They kiss.

LÍZA. [Loudly] Nádya!

NÁDYA. [Goes up to LÍZA. LEONÍD sits down upon the bench] What’s the matter?

LÍZA. Vasilísa Peregrínovna saw you rowing on the pond.

NÁDYA. Well, deuce take her!

LÍZA. My dear girl, don’t carry your head too high!

LEONÍD. Nádya! [NÁDYA goes to him] Oh, Nádya, what a vile, good-for-nothing fellow I am!

NÁDYA. What do you mean?

LEONÍD. Little Nádya! [He whispers in her ear.

NÁDYA. [Shakes her head] Oh, my precious darling, why did that come into your head? I’m not sorry for this, but you are. How kind you are! Now, good-by! It’s high time. I shouldn’t leave you, but I can’t help it; I’m not my own mistress.

LEONÍD. Good-by, then!

Slowly, as if unwillingly, they separate. NÁDYA returns, overtakes LEONÍD and gazes into his eyes.

NÁDYA. Do you love me?

LEONÍD. I do love you, indeed I do!

[They kiss and go out in different directions.

IV

Same room as in second picture

Scene I

POTÁPYCH is leaning against the door-jamb, his hand to his head. VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA enters quietly.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Result of yesterday evening, I suppose, my friend?

POTÁPYCH. Wha-a-t?

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Your head aches.

POTÁPYCH. Did you put up the money?

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. You haven’t any money for anything else; but you have for such things.

POTÁPYCH. Well, anyhow, it ain’t your business.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Of course, Potápych, you’re an old man, why shouldn’t you take a drink once in a while?

POTÁPYCH. Sure, I guess I work for it.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Just so, Potápych!

POTÁPYCH. I’m tired of being lectured by you!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. I wish you well, Potápych.

POTÁPYCH. No need for it! [Silence] But you keep upsetting the mistress so! If you’d only put in a word for us when she’s in a good humor; but you just look for the wrong time, in order to complain of us.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. What do you say, Potápych? God preserve me!

POTÁPYCH. What’s that! No matter how much you swear, I know you! For instance, why are you coming to the mistress now?

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. To wish the benefactress good morning.

POTÁPYCH. You’d better not come.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Why so?

POTÁPYCH. It must be she got out the wrong side of bed; she’s out of sorts. [VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA rubs her hands with pleasure] Here now, I see that you’re happy; you’re dying for some deviltry or other. Phew! Lord forgive us! What a disposition!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. You are saying insulting words to me, Potápych, insulting to my very heart. When did I ever say anything about you to the mistress?

POTÁPYCH. If not about me, then about somebody else.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. But that’s my business.

POTÁPYCH. Your spite’s always getting in its work.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Not spite, not spite, my friend! You’re mistaken! I have just been so insulted that it’s impossible to live in this world after it. I shall die, but I shall not forget.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV enters. POTÁPYCH goes out.

Scene II

Madam Ulanbékov and Vasilísa Peregrínovna

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. [Kissing both of MADAM ULANBÉKOV’S hands] You have risen early, benefactress. You must have an awful lot of things on your mind.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. [Sitting down] I didn’t sleep much. I had a bad dream.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. What, a dream, benefactress? The dream may be terrible, but God is merciful. Not the dream, but what is going on in reality, disturbs you, benefactress. I see that; I’ve seen it a long time.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Bah, what is it to me what’s going on?

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Why, benefactress, don’t we know that your son, dear little soul! is struck with every creature he meets?

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. You make me tired.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. I’m so sorry for you, benefactress! Don’t look for any consolation in this life! You scatter benefactions upon every one; but how do they repay you? The world is full of lust.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Go away!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. [Weeping] I can’t keep back my tears when I look at you! My heart bleeds that they don’t respect you, that they don’t respect you even in your own house! In your honorable house, in such pious premises as these, to do such things!

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. [Frowning] You silly crow! You want to croak about something or other. Well, croak away!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Benefactress, I’m afraid it might upset you.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. You’ve upset me already. Talk!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. [Glances about in all directions and sits down on a stool at the feet of MADAM ULANBÉKOV] Yesterday, benefactress, I was ending my evening prayer to the Heavenly Creator, and went out to stroll in the garden, and to occupy myself for the night with pious meditations.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Well!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. And what did I see there, benefactress! How my legs held me up, I don’t know! That Líza of yours was running through the bushes with a depraved look; it must be she was seeking her lovers. Our master, the little angel! was rowing in the boat on the pond, and Nádya, also with a depraved expression, was clinging to him with her arms about his neck, and was kissing him. And it was easy to see that he, because of his purity, was trying to thrust her away; but she kept clasping him about the neck, kissing and tempting him.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Are you lying?

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. You may quarter me, benefactress.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. It’s enough if there is one grain of truth in your words.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. It’s all true, benefactress.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Fiddlesticks! not all—it can’t be! You always make up more than half. But where were the servants?

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. All of them, benefactress, were more or less drunk. No sooner had you gone to bed, than they all went to the fair and got tipsy. Gavrílovna, Potápych, all were drunk. What an example to the young!

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. This must be looked into thoroughly. Of course, I shouldn’t have expected the least mischief of Leoníd. Quiet lads like him! Well, if he’d been a soldier, it would be pardonable; but as it is…. [She muses.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. And furthermore, benefactress, so far Grísha hasn’t come back from the fair.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. How’s that? He didn’t sleep at home?

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. He did not, benefactress!

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. You lie, you lie, you lie! I’ll drive you off the place!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. May I die in my tracks!

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. [Sinking back in her chair] You want to kill me. [Raising herself from the chair] You simply want to kill me. [She rings. Enter POTÁPYCH] Where’s Grísha?

POTÁPYCH. Just came, ma’am.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Send him here! [POTÁPYCH goes out] This certainly beats all!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. You’ll not find anybody more devoted than I, benefactress; only I am unhappy in one respect: that my disposition displeases you.

Enter GRÍSHA, his hair tousled and dishevelled.

Scene III

The same, and GRÍSHA

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Where’ve you been?

GRÍSHA. [Now opens, now closes his eyes, not sure of his tongue, and unsteady on his legs] At the fair, ma’am.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Just come from it? [GRÍSHA is silent] Why don’t you talk? [Silence] Am I going to get a word out of you, or not?

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Answer the mistress.

GRÍSHA. What’s that to you?

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Answer me! Where have you been all this time?

GRÍSHA. I’ve done wrong, ma’am.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. I’m not asking you whether you’ve done wrong or not; I’m asking you where you were!

GRÍSHA. [Looks at the ceiling with a vacant stare] Why, where should I be? The idea! The same place as usual!

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Well, where’s that?

GRÍSHA. I just informed you that I was there all the time, ma’am.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. You’ll drive me out of patience! Where’s there?

GRÍSHA. But, really, ma’am! Your will in everything, ma’am. What did I, ma’am…. I’ve done wrong, ma’am.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Good Lord! You’re still drunk, I guess.

GRÍSHA. Not a bit, ma’am.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Nonsense! I can see.

GRÍSHA. But, really, ma’am! One can say anything about a man.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Bah, you disgraceful scamp! He still denies it! This is awful! This is awful! Now, speak up, where’ve you been?

GRÍSHA. Why, really, ma’am! I just informed you, ma’am.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Were you at the fair all night?

GRÍSHA. I just informed you so, ma’am.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. How did you dare, when I let you go for only a short time?

GRÍSHA. Well, really, ma’am! I did want to go home, but they wouldn’t let me, ma’am.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Who wouldn’t let you go?

GRÍSHA. My friends wouldn’t, ma’am.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Who are these friends of yours?

GRÍSHA. Why, really, ma’am! Government office clerks.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Great heavens! Clerks! Do you understand what kind of people they are?

GRÍSHA. Who, ma’am, clerks? Understand what about them, ma’am?

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. And you prowled about with them all night! It would have been better if you hadn’t told me, nasty scamp that you are! I know how they act! They’ll teach you all sorts of things! What does this mean? Be-gone! And don’t you dare show yourself before my eyes!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Ask forgiveness, you blockhead! Kiss the dear lady’s hand!

GRÍSHA waves his hand impatiently and goes out.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. What an affliction! It’ll simply make me ill! Already I feel my spasms are beginning. What a worthless scamp! He went out just as if he had no responsibilities! And without a sign of repentance!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Ah, benefactress, you see he’s still a child; he did it just out of stupidity.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. No, he needs a good….

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. What do you say, benefactress? He’s still a regular booby! What can you expect of him! He’ll get wiser, then it will be altogether different.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. What offends me most is ingratitude! It seems to me he ought to feel what I am doing for him. I’m positively sick. Go for the doctor!

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Calm yourself, benefactress; as if that rabble were worth your getting upset over!

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Hand me the smelling-salts.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. [Hands her them] Snap your fingers at them, that’s all. Now, if only those girls….

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Oh, here’s another affliction! Now I certainly can’t collect my thoughts; I’m completely distracted, and now she begins on the girls! I shall take to my bed at any moment.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Lust, benefactress, is beyond all endurance.

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. No, they needn’t expect any mercy from me. As it is, I forgive one, then another, and so the whole crowd is spoiled. [She rings; enter POTÁPYCH] Call Nadezhda, and come here yourself! [POTÁPYCH goes out] That’s what it is to be a woman. If I were a man, would they dare be so willful?

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. They don’t give a fig for you, benefactress, not a fig. They aren’t a little bit afraid of you!

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. They’re going to find out pretty quick whether I amount to anything.

Enter POTÁPYCH and NÁDYA. GAVRÍLOVNA and LÍZA look through the door.

Scene IV

The same, POTÁPYCH and NÁDYA

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Nadezhda! Vasilísa PEREGRÍNOVNA says she saw you in the garden last night with the master. Is that so? [NÁDYA is silent] You’re silent, that means it’s true. Well, now, you can thank yourself. I’m not a conniver at loose conduct, and I won’t endure it in my house. I can’t turn you out as a vagabond, that would weigh upon my conscience. I am obliged to marry you off. [To POTÁPYCH] Send to town and tell NEGLIGÉNTOV that I shall marry Nádya to him; and let the wedding be just as soon as possible.

[She rises from her chair and is about to leave].

NÁDYA. [Falling at her feet] Whatever you wish, only not marriage with him!

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Fiddlesticks! What I have once said is sacred. And what do you mean by this scene? Can’t you see that I’m not well? To keep on plaguing me! Potápych! She has no father; you be a father to her instead; and impress upon her in fatherly fashion the baseness of her conduct, and the fact that she must obey my commands.

POTÁPYCH. You listen, Nadezhda, to what the mistress commands! Because when she intrusts you to me, it means that I must show my authority over you. If you command it, mistress, I can at once, in your presence, give her some moral instruction with my own hand! Here, if you dare to say one tiny word to the contrary, I’ll drag you off by the hair, no matter what any one says.

[He raises his hand threateningly.]

NÁDYA. Oh!… [She crouches.]

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Don’t strike her! What disgusting scenes!

POTÁPYCH. But, mistress! You can’t get results by talking! Besides, if I’m her father, that’s the regular thing! That’s the law, and according to that, since she is rebelling against you now, I ought to give you that satisfaction.

NÁDYA. [Weeping] Mistress, don’t ruin me!

MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Oh, my God! You don’t spare me at all. Tears, squabblings! Send for the doctor at once! How many times have I got to say it? It’s your own fault, you’ve nobody to blame for your tears. Potápych! get this business over with! I don’t like to repeat the same thing ten times over.

She goes out, GAVRÍLOVNA after her. Silence. GAVRÍLOVNA returns.

GAVRÍLOVNA. She’s gone to bed, and banged the door behind her.

POTÁPYCH. [At the window] Antoshka! Antoshka! Post boy! Saddle the horse and ride to town for the doctor. Oh, you! Lord!

NÁDYA. [Rising from her knees] Don’t you think it’s a sin for you to abuse me, Potápych? What have I ever done to you?

POTÁPYCH. What do I care? What do I care about you? When the mistress really wants something, I have to try to please her in every way; because I was born her servant.

NÁDYA. If she had commanded you to kill me, would you have done it?

POTÁPYCH. That’s not my affair, I can’t argue about that.

GAVRÍLOVNA. That’s enough, Nádya, don’t cry! God doesn’t abandon orphans.

NÁDYA falls upon GAVRÍLOVNA’S bosom.

LÍZA. [To VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA] Well, is your heart content now?

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Wait, my dear, your turn will come.

LEONÍD enters.

Scene V

The same and LEONÍD

LEONÍD. What’s this? What has happened?

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. You made all the trouble yourself, and then ask what has happened.

LEONÍD. What trouble did I make? What are you continually thinking up?

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Now, don’t pretend! The whole truth has come out. You’ve been having a little fun. What of it? At your age, why shouldn’t you have?

LÍZA. She’s reported the whole thing to the mistress. The mistress got so angry that it was awful! And now, sir, she is going to marry Nádya to that government clerk.

LEONÍD. Are you sure?

NÁDYA. The thing’s settled, dearest master! I have to answer for last evening’s sport.

LEONÍD. Is mamma very angry?

GAVRÍLOVNA. No one dares go near her.

LEONÍD. But how can that be? Isn’t it possible to talk her over somehow or other?

GAVRÍLOVNA. Just go and try. No, she won’t come out of her room now for five days; and she won’t let any one at all see her there.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Do you want to talk your mamma over?

LEONÍD. Yes.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Do you want me to tell you how?

LEONÍD. Please be so kind, Vasilísa Peregrínovna.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Well, permit me. Our benefactress is very much hurt at Grísha, because he didn’t spend the night at home: he came in drunk, and didn’t even ask forgiveness nor kiss her hand. It was this vexation that made her sick. And then this Nadezhda happened to come her way when she was angry. Now our benefactress won’t even come out of her room, and won’t allow any one to go to her, so long as that stubborn Grísha doesn’t beg forgiveness.

GAVRÍLOVNA. How contrarily everything happened! Grísha will keep up his character, too. Although he is a blockhead, he has some sense. Now he’ll flop down on the hay and he’ll lie there on his belly for four days.

POTÁPYCH. Somebody ought to take Uncle Gerasim’s club and dress him down from top to toe.

VASILÍSA PEREGRÍNOVNA. Now, our dear master, wouldn’t you like to go present your compliments to him, in order that he might hurry up and ask your mamma’s forgiveness?

LEONÍD. [Upon reflection] That would be too great an honor for him. But see here, Gavrílovna, is mamma actually very angry?

GAVRÍLOVNA. So angry, sir, that it’s terrible!

LEONÍD. Well, what’s to be done now!

NÁDYA. Why are you bothering? You see, there’s nothing you can do: better leave me! Now you’ll soon go away to Petersburg; you will be happy: why should you think about such trifles, or disturb yourself?

LEONÍD. Why, you see, I’m sorry for you!

NÁDYA. Don’t be sorry, if you please! I ran to my own destruction of my own free will, like a mad girl, without once stopping to think.

LEONÍD. What are you planning to do now?

NÁDYA. That’s my business.

LEONÍD. But, you see, it’s going to be very hard for you.

NÁDYA. What business is it of yours? It will be all the happier for you.

LEONÍD. But why do you talk like this?

NÁDYA. Because you’re still a boy!… Leave me!

LEONÍD. But, you see, he’s such a drunken, vile fellow.

NÁDYA. Oh, my God! It would be better for you to go off somewhere: out of my sight.

LEONÍD. Yes, really, it would be better for me to spend a week with our neighbors.

NÁDYA. For God’s sake, do!

LEONÍD. But Nádya, if it should be awfully hard for you to live with your husband, what then?

NÁDYA. [Weeping] Oh, leave me alone! Be good enough to leave me alone! [Sobbing] I beg only one thing of you: leave me, for God’s sake! [She sobs.

GAVRÍLOVNA and LÍZA. [Motioning with their hands] Go away! Go away!

LEONÍD. Why do you drive me out? I guess I’m sorry enough for her! I keep thinking somehow or other, that it may still be possible to help her in some way.

NÁDYA. [With desperation] I don’t want any helpers or defenders! I don’t want them! If my patience fails, that pond of ours isn’t far off!

LEONÍD. [Timidly] Well, I’ll go away if you wish…. Only what is she saying? You folks, look after her, please! Good-by! [He goes to the door.

NÁDYA. [After him in a loud voice] Good-by!

LEONÍD goes out.

LÍZA. And so the old proverb is true: What’s fun for the cat is tears for the mouse.

Poverty Is No Crime

A Comedy in Three Acts

Characters

Gordéy Kárpych Tortsóv, a rich merchant.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA, his wife.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA, his daughter.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH TORTSÓV, his brother, a man who has squandered his property.

AFRIKÁN SÁVVICH KÓRSHUNOV1, a manufacturer.

MÍTYA, TORTSÓV’S clerk.

YÁSHA GÚSLIN, nephew of TORTSÓV.

GRÍSHA RAZLYULYÁYEV, a young merchant, the son of a rich father.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA, a young widow.

MÁSHA } } friends of LYUBÓV TORTSÓV. LÍZA }

EGÓRUSHKA, a boy, distant relative of TORTSÓV.

ARÍNA, nurse of LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA.

GUESTS, SERVANTS, MUMMERS, AND OTHERS.

The action takes place in a district town in the house of the merchant TORTSÓV during the Christmas holidays.

Poverty Is No Crime

Act I

A small office room; in the rear wall a door; in the corner on the left a bed, on the right a cupboard. In the left wall a window, and beside the window a table. Near the table a chair; near the right wall a desk and a wooden stool. Beside the bed a guitar; on the table and desk are books and papers.

Scene I

Mítya is walking back and forth in the room. EGÓRUSHKA is seated on the stool reading “Bová Korolévich.”

EGÓRUSHKA. [Reads] “My sovereign father, glorious and brave king, Kiribít Verzoúlovich, I do not possess the courage to marry him now. Because when I was young I was wooed by King Gvidón.”

MÍTYA. Well, Egórushka, is any one at home?

EGÓRUSHKA. [Putting his finger on the place where he is reading in order not to make a mistake] Nobody; they’ve all gone driving. There’s only Gordéy Kárpych at home. [Reads] “Whereupon Kiribít Verzoúlovich said to his daughter”—[Again marking the place]—only he’s in such a rage, it’s awful! I cleared out—he keeps on cursing. [Reads] “Then the beautiful Militrísa Kirbítyevna called her servant Licharda to her.”

MÍTYA. With whom was he angry?

EGÓRUSHKA. With my uncle, with Lyubím KÁRPYCH. On the second day of the holidays Uncle Lyubím KÁRPYCH dined with us; at dinner he got drunk and began to play the fool; it was awfully funny. I always get the giggles. I couldn’t stand it, and then I burst out laughing, and they were all looking at me. Uncle Gordéy KÁRPYCH took it as a great insult to himself and very bad manners, and he was furious with him and turned him out. Uncle Lyubím Kárpych made a great row, and out of revenge went and stood with the beggars by the church door. Uncle Gordéy Kárpych said: “He has put me to shame,” he said, “in the eyes of the whole town.” And now he gets angry with everybody who comes near him, no matter who they are. [Reads] “With the intention of advancing toward our town.”

MÍTYA. [Looking out of the window] Here they come, I think. Yes, it’s so. Pelagéya Egórovna, Lyubóv Gordéyevna, and guests with them.

EGÓRUSHKA. [Concealing his story in his pocket] I’ll run up-stairs.
          [Goes out.

Scene II

Mítya alone

MÍTYA. Oh, Lord, what misery! Everybody in the streets is having a holiday, and everybody in the houses too, and you have to sit between four walls! I am a stranger to all, no relations, no friends!—And then besides!—O well! I’d better get to work; perhaps this wretchedness will pass off. [Seats himself at the desk and muses, then begins to sing.

“Her beauty I cannot describe!
    Dark eyebrows, with languishing eyes.”

Yes, with languishing eyes. And yesterday when she came from mass, in her sable coat, and her little handkerchief on her head, like this—ah!—I really think such beauty was never seen before! [Muses, then sings.

“Where, O where was this beauty born!”

My work all goes out of my head! I’m always thinking of her! My heart is tormented with sorrow. O misery most miserable!

Covers his face with his hands and sits silent. Enter PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA, dressed in winter clothes; she stops in the doorway.

Scene III

Mítya and PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Mítya, Mítya dear!

MÍTYA. What do you want?

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Come up to us later on in the evening, my dear, and play with the girls. We’re going to sing songs.

MÍTYA. Thank you exceedingly, I shall make it my first duty.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Why are you always sitting alone in the office? It’s not very cheerful! You’ll come, won’t you? Gordéy Kárpych won’t be at home.

MÍTYA. Good, I shall come without fail.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. He’s going off again, you see; he’s going off there to that friend of his—what’s his name?

MÍTYA. To Afrikán Savvich?

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Yes, yes! He’s quite gone on him! Lord forgive him!

MÍTYA. Take a seat, Pelagéya Egórovna. [Fetches a chair.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Oh, I have no time. Well, yes, I’ll sit down a bit. [Sits down] Now just think, what a misfortune! Really, they’ve become such friends that it beats everything! Yes, that’s what it’s come to! And why? What’s the use of it all? Tell me that, pray. Isn’t Afrikán Savvich a coarse, drunken fellow? Isn’t he?

MÍTYA. Perhaps Gordéy Kárpych has some business with Afrikán Savvich.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. What sort of business! He has no business at all. You see Afrikán Savvich is always drinking with that Englishman. He has an Englishman as director of his factory, and they drink together! But he’s no fit company for my husband. But can you reason with him? Just think how proud he is! He says to me: “There isn’t a soul here to speak to; all,” he says, “are rabble, all, you see, are just so many peasants, and they live like peasants. But that man, you see, is from Moscow—lives mostly in Moscow—and he’s rich.” And whatever has happened to him? Well, you see, it was all of a sudden, my dear boy, all of a sudden! He used to have so much sense. Well, we lived, of course not luxuriously, but all the same pretty fairly decently; and then last year he went for a trip, and he caught it from some one. He caught it, he caught it, they have told me so—caught all these tricks. Now he doesn’t care for any of our Russian ways. He keeps harping on this: “I want to be up to date, I want to be in the fashion. Yes, yes! Put on a cap,” he says! What an idea to get! Am I going to try to charm any one in my old age and make myself look lovely? Bah! You just try to do anything with him. He never drank before—really he didn’t—but now he drinks with this Afrikán. It must be that drink has turned his brain [points to her head] and muddled him…. [Silence] I think now that the devil has got hold of him! Why can’t he have some sense! If he were a young fellow! For a young fellow to dress up and all that is all right; but you see he’s nearly sixty, my dear, nearly sixty! Really! “Your fashionable up-to-date things,” says I, “change every day; our Russian things have lived from time immemorial! The old folks weren’t any stupider than we.” But can you reason with him, my dear, with his violent character?

MÍTYA. What is there to say? He’s a harsh man.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Lyubóv is just at the right age now; we ought to be settling her, but he keeps dinning it in: “There’s no one her equal, no! no!” But there is! But he says there isn’t. How hard all this is for a mother’s heart.

MÍTYA. Perhaps Gordéy Kárpych wishes to marry Lyubóv Gordéyevna in Moscow.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Who knows what he has in his mind? He looks like a wild beast, and never says a word, as if I were not a mother. Yes, truly, I never say anything to him; I don’t dare; all you can do is to speak with some outsider about your grief, and weep, and relieve your heart; that’s all. [Rises] You’ll come, Mítya?

MÍTYA. I’ll come, ma’am.

GÚSLIN comes in.

Scene IV

The same and GÚSLIN

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Here’s another fine lad! Come up-stairs to us, Yasha, and sing songs with the girls; you’re good at that; and bring along your guitar.

GÚSLIN. Thank you, ma’am: I don’t think of that as work; I must say it’s a pleasure.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Well, good-by! I’m going to take a nap for half an hour.

GÚSLIN and MÍTYA. Good-by.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA goes out; MÍTYA seats himself dejectedly at the table; GÚSLIN seats himself on the bed and takes up the guitar.

Scene V

Mítya and YÁSHA GÚSLIN

GÚSLIN. What a crowd there was at the fair! Your people were there. Why weren’t you?

MÍTYA. Because I felt so awfully miserable.

GÚSLIN. What’s the matter? What are you unhappy about?

MÍTYA. How can I help being unhappy? Thoughts like these keep coming into my head: what sort of man am I in the world? My mother is old and poor now, and I must keep her—and how? My salary is small; I get nothing but abuse and insults from Gordéy Kárpych; he keeps reproaching me with my poverty, as if I were to blame—and he doesn’t increase my salary. I’d look for another place, but where can one find one without friends? And, yes, I will confess to you that I won’t go to another place.

GOSLIN. Why won’t you go? There at the Razlyulyáyevs’ it’s very nice—the people are rich and kind.

MÍTYA. No, Yasha, that doesn’t suit me! I’ll bear anything from Gordéy Kárpych, I’ll stand poverty, but I won’t go away. That’s my destiny!

GÚSLIN. Why so?

MÍTYA. [Rises] Well, I have a reason for this. It is, Yasha, because I have another sorrow—but nobody knows about it. I haven’t spoken to any one about my sorrow.

GÚSLIN. Tell me about it.

MÍTYA. [Waving his hand] What for?

GÚSLIN. Yes, tell me; don’t put on airs!

MÍTYA. Whether I tell you or not, you can’t help me!

GÚSLIN. How do you know?

MÍTYA. [Walking toward GÚSLIN] Nobody can help me—I am a lost man! I’ve fallen wildly in love with Lyubóv Gordéyevna.

GÚSLIN. What’s the matter with you, Mítya? Whatever do you mean?

MÍTYA. Well, anyhow, it’s a fact.

GÚSLIN. You’d better put it out of your head, Mítya. Nothing can ever come of that, so there’s no use thinking about it.

MÍTYA. Though I know all this, one cannot control one’s heart. “To love is most easy, one cannot forget.” [He speaks with violent gestures] “I love the beautiful girl more than family, more than race; but evil people forbid me, and they bid me cease.”

GÚSLIN. Yes, indeed; but you must stop it! Now Anna Ivánovna is my equal; she has no money, and I haven’t a kopek—and even so uncle forbids me to marry. It’s no use for you to think of doing so. You’ll get it into your head and then it’ll be still harder for you.

MÍTYA. [Declaiming] “What of all things is most cruel? The most cruel thing is love.” [Walking about the room.] Yasha, have you read Koltsóv?

GÚSLIN. Yes, why?

MÍTYA. How he describes all these feelings!

GÚSLIN. He does describe them exactly.

MÍTYA. Exactly, to perfection. [Walking about the room] Yasha!

GÚSLIN. What?

MÍTYA. I myself have composed a song.

GÚSLIN. You?

MÍTYA. Yes.

GÚSLIN. Let’s make up a tune for it, and we’ll sing it.

MÍTYA. Good! Here, take this [gives him a paper] and I’ll write a little—I have some work: most likely Gordéy Kárpych will be asking me about it. [Sits and writes.

GÚSLIN takes the guitar and begins to pick out a tune. RAZLYULYÁYEV comes in with an accordion.

Scene VI

The same and RAZLYULYÁYEV

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Hello, boys! [Plays on the accordion and begins to dance.

GÚSLIN. What a fool! What did you buy that accordion for?

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Why, I bought it to play on, of course—this way. [Plays.

GÚSLIN. Well, that’s fine music, I must say! Stop, I tell you!

RAZLYULYÁYEV. What! Do you think I’ll stop? I’ll stop when I want to.—What airs! Haven’t I got any money? [Slapping his pocket] It chinks! If we go on a spree—then it’s some spree!

“One mountain is high,
    And another is low;
    One darling is far,
    And another is near.”

Mítya! [Strikes MÍTYA on the shoulder] Mítya, why are you sitting still?

MÍTYA. I have some work to do. [Continues to work.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Mítya! Say, Mítya, I’m on a spree, my boy! Really, I am. Oh, come on! [Sings, “One mountain is high,” etc.] Mítya! Say, Mítya, I’m going on a spree for the whole holiday season—then I’ll set to work, upon my word I will! Haven’t I got any money? There it is! And I’m not drunk.—Oh, no, such a spree!—so jolly!

MÍTYA. Well, go on a spree as much as you like.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. And after the holidays I shall marry!—Upon my word I shall marry! I’ll get a rich girl.

GÚSLIN. Now, then, listen; how does this sound?

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Sing it, sing it! I’ll listen.

GÚSLIN. [Sings]

“Is naught so hard and evil
    As to be fatherless;
    Than slavery more grievous
    And sharper than distress.

All in the world make holiday,
    But lonely you must pine.
    Your mind is wild and drunken,
    But it came not from the wine.

Youth shall not do your pleasure,
    Beauty no healing bear.
    Your sweetheart does not comb your locks,
    But your harsh stepdame, Care.”

During all this time RAZLYULYÁYEV stands as if rooted to the ground, and listens with emotion; when the song is finished all are silent.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Good! Very good! It’s awfully sad; it takes hold of one’s heart. [Sighs] Ah, Yasha! play something cheerful; that’s enough of this stuff—to-day’s a holiday. [Sings.

“Who does not love a hussar!
    Life without love would be sad!”

Play the tune, Yasha.

GÚSLIN plays the tune.

MÍTYA. That’s enough of your fooling. Come, now, let’s sit down in a circle and sing in a low tone.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. All right. [They sit down.

GÚSLIN. [Begins to sing; MÍTYA and RAZLYULYÁYEV join in]

“Now my young, my young lads,
    You my friends….”

Enter GORDÉY KÁRPYCH; all stand up and stop singing.

Scene VII

The same and GORDÉY KÁRPYCH

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. What’s all this screeching! Bawling like so many peasants! [To MÍTYA] And you here! You’re not living here in a peasant’s hut! What a dram-shop! See that this sort of thing doesn’t go on in the future! [Goes to the table and inspects the papers] Why are these papers all scattered about?

MÍTYA. I was looking over the accounts, sir. GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. [Takes the book by Koltsóv, and the copy-book with verses] And this, too, what’s this rubbish?

MÍTYA. I was copying these poems of Koltsóv’s to pass the time away, since it’s a holiday. GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. You are sentimental for a poor lad!

MÍTYA. I just study for my own education, in order to understand things.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Education! Do you know what education is?—And yet you keep on talking! You ought to get yourself a new coat! For when you come up-stairs to us and there are guests, it’s a disgrace! What do you do with your money?

MÍTYA. I send it to my mother because she is old and has nowhere to get any.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Send it to your mother! You ought to educate yourself first; God knows what your mother needs! She wasn’t brought up in luxury; most likely she used to look after the cows herself.

MÍTYA. It’s better that I should suffer than that my mother should be in any want at all.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. This is simply disgusting! If you don’t know yourself how to observe decency, then sit in your hovel! If you haven’t anything to wear, then don’t have any fancies! You write verses, you wish to educate yourself—and you go about looking like a factory hand! Does education consist in this, in singing idiotic songs? You idiot! [Through his teeth and looking askance at MÍTYA] Fool! [Is silent] Don’t you dare to show yourself in that suit up-stairs. Listen, I tell you! [To RAZLYULYÁYEV] And you too! Your father, to all appearances, rakes up money with a shovel, and you go about in this Russian smock.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. What do you say! It’s new—French goods—I ordered it from Moscow—from an acquaintance—twenty rubles a yard! Do you think I ought to go about in a bob-tailed coat, like Franz Fédorych at the apothecary’s! Why, they all tease him there!—the deuce of a coat! What’s the use of making people laugh! GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Much you know! It’s hopeless to expect anything of you! You yourself are an idiot, and your father hasn’t much more sense—he always goes about in dirty old clothes. You live like ignorant fools, and like fools you will die.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. That’s enough!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. What?

RAZLYULYÁYEV. That’s enough, I say!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Clown! You don’t even know how to talk straight! It’s simply waste of words to speak to you—like shooting peas against a wall—to waste words on such as you, fools! [Goes out.

Scene VIII

The same without TORTSÓV

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Just look! How savage! What a rage he’s in! Oh, we’re awfully scared of you—you bet we are!

MÍTYA. [To GÚSLIN] There, that’s the sort of life I lead! That’s the sort of thing I have to put up with!

RAZLYULYÁYEV. It’ll drive you to drink—upon my word, it’ll drive you to drink! But you’d better stop thinking about it. [Sings.

“One mountain is high,
    And another is low;
    One darling is far,
    And another is near.”

Enter LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA, ANNA IVÁNOVNA, MÁSHA, and LÍZA.

Scene IX

The same and LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA, ANNA IVÁNOVNA, MÁSHA, and LÍZA.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Peace, honest company!

RAZLYULYÁYEV. I welcome you to our shanty.

MÍTYA. Our respects! Please come in! What good wind brings you here?

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. No wind—we just took it into our heads and came. Gordéy Kárpych has gone out, and Pelagéya Egórovna has gone to lie down, so now we are free! Be as jolly as you please!

MÍTYA. I humbly beg you to sit down.

They sit down; MÍTYA seats himself opposite LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA; RAZLYULYÁYEV walks about.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. It grew dull sitting silent cracking nuts. “Come on, girls,” said I, “and see the boys,” and that suited the girls.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. What stories you do make up! We never thought of coming here—that was your idea.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Much you didn’t! You were the first! Everybody knows, if a person wants a thing, then he thinks about it; the boys of the girls, and the girls of the boys.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Ha, ha, ha! Anna Ivánovna, you have said it exactly.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Not a bit of it!

MÁSHA. [To LÍZA] Oh, how embarrassing!

LÍZA. Anna Ivánovna, you are just saying what isn’t true.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Oh, you modest thing! I’d like to say a word—but it wouldn’t be nice before the boys!—I’ve been a girl myself. I know all about it.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. There are girls and girls!

MÁSHA. Oh, how embarrassing!

LÍZA. What you say sounds very strange to us, and, I must say, it’s disconcerting.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Ha, ha, ha!

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. What were we talking about just now up-stairs? Do you want me to tell? Shall I tell them? Well, have you calmed down now?

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Ha, ha, ha!

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. What are you opening your mouth for? It wasn’t about you—don’t you worry.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Even if it wasn’t about me, still it may be there is some one who thinks about me. I know what I know! [Dances to a tune.

“Who does not love a hussar!
    Life without love would be sad!”

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. [Walking towards GÚSLIN] Well, guitar player, when will you marry me?

GÚSLIN. [Playing on the guitar] When I can get permission from Gordéy Kárpych. What’s the use of hurrying! It isn’t raining on us! [Nods his head] Come along here, Anna Ivánovna; I’ve got something to say to you.

She goes to him, and sits near him; he whispers in her ear, looking towards LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA and MÍTYA.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. What do you say!—Really?

GÚSLIN. It’s really true.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Well, then, all right; keep quiet! [They talk in a whisper.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. You, Mítya, will you come to us later on in the evening?

MÍTYA. I will.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. And I’m coming; I’m good at dancing. [Stands with arms akimbo] Girls! do fall in love with me, one of you!

MÁSHA. You ought to be ashamed of yourself! What’s that you’re saying?

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Why such airs! I say, fall in love with me, somebody—yes—for my simplicity.

LÍZA. People don’t talk like that to girls. You ought to wait till they do fall in love with you.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Yes, much I’ll get from you by waiting! [Dances

“Who does not love a hussar!”

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. [Looking at MÍTYA] It may be somebody loves somebody and won’t tell! He must guess himself.

LÍZA. How can any girl in the world say that!

MÁSHA. I know it!

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. [Goes up to them and looks now at LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA and now at MÍTYA and sings:

“Already it is seen
    If somebody loves somebody—
    Opposite the beloved one she seats herself
    Heavily sighing.”

MÍTYA. Who does that apply to?

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. We know to whom.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Stay, girls, I’ll sing you a song.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Sing, sing!

RAZLYULYÁYEV. [Sings slowly]

“A bear was flying through the sky.”

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Don’t you know anything worse than that!

LÍZA. We might think you were making fun of us.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. If this isn’t good enough I’ll sing you another, for I’m a jolly fellow. [Sings.

“Beat! Beat! upon the board.
     Moscow! Moscow! that’s the word.
     Moscow’s got it in his head
     That Kolomna he will wed.
     Tula laughs with all his heart.
     But with the dowry will not part.
     Buckwheat is tuppence. It’s twenty for oats.
     Millet is sixpence and barley three groats.
          [Turns towards the girls.
     If only oats would but come down!
     It’s costly carting ’em to town.”

See! What weather!

MÁSHA. This doesn’t concern us.

LÍZA. We don’t trade in flour.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. What are you interrupting for! Just guess this riddle. What’s this: round—but not a girl; with a tail—but not a mouse?1

RAZLYULYÁYEV. That’s a hard one!

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Indeed it is!—You just think it over! Now, girls, come along! [The girls rise and get ready to go] Come along, boys!

GÚSLIN and RAZLYULYÁYEV get ready.

MÍTYA. But I’ll come later. I’ll put things to rights here first.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. [Sings while they are getting ready]

“Our maids last night,
    Our pretties last night,
    They brewed us a brew of the beer last night.
    And there came to our maids,
    And there came to our pretties
    A guest, a guest whom they didn’t invite.”

ANNA IVÁNOVNA lets them all pass through the door, except LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA; she shuts the door and does not allow her to pass.

Scene X

Mítya and Lyubóv Gordéyevna

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. [At the door] Stop, don’t be silly! [Through the door the girls are heard laughing] They won’t let me out! Oh, what girls! [Walks away from the door] They’re always up to something.

MÍTYA. [Hands her a chair] Be seated, Lyubóv Gordéyevna, and talk to me for just a moment. I’m very glad to see you in my room.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Why are you glad? I don’t understand.

MÍTYA. Oh, why!—It is very pleasant for me to see on your side such consideration; it is above my deserts to receive it from you. This is the second time I have had the good fortune—

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. There’s nothing in that! I came here, sat awhile, and went away again. That means nothing. Maybe I’ll go away again at once.

MÍTYA. Oh, no! Don’t go!—Why should you! [Takes the paper out of his pocket] Permit me to present to you my work, the best I can do—from my heart.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. What is this?

MÍTYA. I made these verses just for you.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. [Trying to hide her joy] Still, it may be just some sort of foolishness—not worth reading.

MÍTYA. That I cannot judge, because I wrote it myself, and without studying besides.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Read it.

MÍTYA. Directly.

Seats himself at the table, and takes the paper: LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA approaches very near to him.

“In the meadow no grasses wither,
    And never a flower doth fade;
    However a fair lad fadeth
    That once was a lusty blade.

He loved a handsome damsel;
    For that his grief is great,
    And heavy his misfortune,
    For she came of high estate.

The lad’s heart is breaking,
    But vain his grief must be,
    Because he loved a damsel
    Above his own degree.

When all the night is darkened
    The sun may not appear;
    And so the pretty maiden.
    She may not be his dear.”

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. [Sitting and reflecting for some time] Give it here. [Takes the paper and hides it, then rises] Now I will write something for you.

MÍTYA. You!

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Only I don’t know how to do it in verse, but—just plain Russian.

MÍTYA. I shall regard such a kindness from you as a great happiness to myself. [Gives her paper and pen] Here they are.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. It’s a great pity that I write so abominably. [She writes; MÍTYA tries to look] Only don’t you look, or I’ll stop writing and tear it up.

MÍTYA. I won’t look. But kindly condescend to permit me to reply, in so far as I am able, and to write some verses for you on a second occasion.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. [Laying down the pen] Write if you wish—only I’ve inked all my fingers; if I’d only known, I’d better not have written.

MÍTYA. May I have it?

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Well, take it; only don’t dare to read it while I’m here, but after, when I’ve gone.

Folds together the paper and gives it to him; he conceals it in his pocket.

MÍTYA. It shall be as you wish.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. [Rises] Will you come up-stairs to us?

MÍTYA. I will—this minute.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Good-by.

MÍTYA. To our pleasant meeting!

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA goes to the door; from the doorway LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH comes in.

Scene XI

The same and LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Ah!

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. [Looking at LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA] Wait! What sort of a creature is this? On what pretext? On what business? We must consider this matter.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Is it you, uncle!

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. Oh, it’s I, niece! What? You got a fright? Clear out, never mind! I’m not the man to tell tales. I’ll put it in a box, and think it over after, all in my spare time.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Good-by. [Goes out.

Scene XII

Mítya and Lyubím Kárpych

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. Mítya, receive unto thyself Lyubím Kárpych TORTSÓV, the brother of a wealthy merchant.

MÍTYA. You are welcome.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. [Sits down] My brother turned me out! And in the street, in a coat like this—one has to dance about a bit! The frost—at Christmas time—brrr!—My hands are frozen, and my feet nipped—brrr!

MÍTYA. Warm yourself up, Lyubím Kárpych.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. You will not drive me away, Mítya? If you do, I’ll freeze in the yard—I’ll freeze like a dog.

MÍTYA. How could I? What are you saying?

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. You see, Mítya, my brother turned me out. As long as I had a little money, I strolled about in warm places; now I have no money, and they won’t let me come in anywhere. All I had was two francs and some-odd centimes! Not a great capital! It wouldn’t build a stone house! It wouldn’t buy a village! What could one do with such a capital? Where put it? Not take it to a bank! So then I took this capital and drank it up!—squandered it!—That’s the way of it!

MÍTYA. Why do you drink, Lyubím Kárpych? That makes you your own enemy.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. Why do I drink? From stupidity! Yes, from my own stupidity. Why did you think I drank?

MÍTYA. You’d better stop it.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. It’s impossible to stop; I’ve got started on this track.

MÍTYA. What track?

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. Ah, well, listen—you’re a kind soul—what this track was. Only, you listen, take note of it. I was left when my father died, just a kid, tall as a bean pole, a little fool of twenty. The wind whistled through my head like an empty garret! My brother and I divided up things: he took the factory himself, and gave me my share in money, drafts and promissory notes. Well, now, how he divided with me is not our business—God be his judge! Well, then I went to Moscow to get money on the drafts. I had to go! One must see people and show oneself, and learn good manners. Then again, I was such a handsome young man, and I’d never seen the world, or spent the night in a private house. I felt I must try everything! First thing, I got myself dressed like a dandy. “Know our people!” says I. That is, I played the fool to a rarity! Of course, I started to visit all the taverns: “Schpeelen sie polka! Give us a bottle off the ice!” I got together enough friends to fill a pond! I went to the theatres—

MÍTYA. Well, Lyubím Kárpych, it must be very nice in the theatre.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. I kept going to see the tragedies; I liked them very much, only I didn’t see anything decently, and I didn’t understand anything because I was nearly always drunk. [Rises] “Drink beneath the dagger of Prokóp Lyapunóv.” [Sits down] By this sort of life I soon squandered all my money; what was left I intrusted to my friend Afrikán Kórshunov, on his oath and word of honor; with him I had drunk and gone on sprees, he was responsible for all my folly, he was the chief mixer of the mash! He fooled me and showed me up, and I was stuck like a crab on a sand bank. I had nothing to drink, and I was thirsty—what was to be done? Where could I go to drown my misery? I sold my clothes, all my fashionable things; got pay in bank-notes, and changed them for silver, the silver for copper, and then everything went and all was over.

MÍTYA. How did you live, Lyubím Kárpych?

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. How did I live? May God never give such a life to a Tatar! I lived in roomy lodgings, between heaven and earth, with no walls and no ceiling. I was ashamed to see people. I hid from the world; and yet you have to go out into God’s world, for you have nothing to eat. You go along the street, and everybody looks at you.—Every one had seen what a life I used to lead, how I rattled through the town in a first-class cab, and now went about tattered and torn and unshaven. They shook their heads and away they went. Shame, shame, shame! [Sits and hangs his head] There is a good business—a trade which pays—to steal. But this business didn’t suit me—I had a conscience, and again I was afraid: no one approves of this business.

MÍTYA. That’s a last resort.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. They say in other countries they pay you thalers and thalers for this, but in our country good people punch your head for it. No, my boy, to steal is abominable! That’s an old trick, we’ll have to give it up! But, you see, hunger isn’t a kind old aunty, and you have to do something! I began to go about the town as a buffoon, to get money, a kopek at a time, to make a fool of myself, to tell funny stories, and play all sorts of tricks. Often you shiver from early morn till night in the town streets; you hide somewhere behind the corner away from people, and wait for merchants. When one comes—especially if he is rather rich—you jump out and do some trick, and one gives you five kopeks, and another ten: with that you take breath for a day and so exist.

MÍTYA. It would have been better, Lyubím Kárpych, to go to your brother, than to live like that.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. It was impossible; I’d been drawn in. Oh, Mítya, you get into this groove, and it isn’t easy to get out again. Don’t interrupt! You’ll have a chance later. Well, then, listen! I caught cold in the town—it was winter; I stood in the cold, smartly dressed, in this coat! I was blowing on my fingers and jumping from foot to foot. Good people carried me to the hospital. When I began to get better and come to my senses, my drunken spell was over. Dread came over me! Horror seized me! How had I lived? What had I done? I began to feel melancholy; yes, such melancholy that it seemed better to die. And so I decided that when I got quite well, I would go on a pilgrimage, then go to my brother, and let him take me as a porter. This I did. I threw myself plump at his feet! “Be a father to me!” says I, “I have lived abominably—now I wish to reform.” And do you know how my brother received me! He was ashamed, you see, that he had such a brother. “But you help me out,” I said to him, “correct me, be kind to me, and I will be a man.” “Not at all,” says he, “where can I put you when important guests, rich merchants, and gentry come to see me? You’ll be the death of me,” says he! “With my feelings and intellect,” says he, “I ought not to have been born in this family at all. See how I live,” says he; “who’d ever guess that our father was a peasant! For me,” says he, “this disgrace is enough, and then you must come and obtrude yourself again.” He overwhelmed me as with thunder! After these words I went from bad to worse. “Oh, well,” I thought, “deuce take him! He is very thick here. [Points to his forehead] He needs a lesson, the fool. Riches are no use to fools like us; they spoil us. You need to know how to manage money.” [Dozes off] Mítya, I’ll lie down here; I want to take a nap.

MÍTYA. Do lie down, Lyubím Kárpych.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. Mítya, don’t give me any money—that is, don’t give me much; just give me a little. I’ll take a nap here, and then go and warm myself a little, you understand! I only need a little—no, no! Don’t be foolish!

MÍTYA. [Taking out money] Here, take as much as you need.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. I need ten kopeks. This is all silver; I don’t need silver. Give me two kopeks more, that will be just right. [MÍTYA gives them] That’s enough. You have a good heart, Mítya! [Lies down] My brother doesn’t know how to appreciate you. Yes, I’ll play a joke on him! For fools riches are an evil! Give money to a sensible man, and he’ll do something with it. I walked about Moscow, I saw everything, everything!—I’ve been through a long course of study! You’d better not give money to a fool; he’ll only go smash! Foh, foh, foh, brr! just like brother and like me, the brute! [In a voice half asleep] Mítya, I will come and spend the night with you.

MÍTYA. Come on. The office is empty now—it’s a holiday.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. Oh, but I’ll play a funny joke on brother. [Falls asleep.

MÍTYA. [Walks towards the door and takes the letter out of his pocket] What can she have written? I’m frightened!—My hands tremble!—Well, what is to be will be! I’ll read it. [Reads] “And I love you. Lyubóv Tortsóv.” [Clutches his head and runs out.

Act II

Guest-room in the house of TORTSÓV. Against the rear wall a sofa, in front of the sofa a round table and six armchairs, three on each side; in the left corner a door; on each wall a mirror, and under them little tables. A door in each side wall, and a door in the rear wall in the corner. On the stage it is dark; from the left door comes a light.

Scene I

Lyubóv Gordéyevna and ANNA IVÁNOVNA enter through the lighted door.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Why don’t they come, our fine lads? Shall we go and fetch them?

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. No, you’d better not. Well, yes, if you like, fetch them. [Embraces her] Fetch them, Annushka.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Well, evidently you aren’t happy without him!

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Oh, Annushka, if you only knew how I love him!

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Love him, then, my dear, but don’t lose your wits. Don’t let him go too far, or you may be sorry for it. Be sure you find out first what sort of a fellow he is.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. He’s a good lad!—I love him very much; he’s so quiet, and he’s an orphan.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Well, if he’s good, then love him; you ought to know best. I just said that! Many a girl comes to grief because of them. It’s easy to get into trouble, if you don’t use your sense.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. What is our love? Like a blade of grass in the field; it blooms out of season—and it fades.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Wait a moment! Some one’s coming, I think. Isn’t it he? I’ll go and you wait, perhaps it’s he! Have a good talk with him. [She goes out.

MÍTYA enters.

Scene II

Lyubóv Gordéyevna and MÍTYA

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Who’s there?

MÍTYA. It’s I, Mítya.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Why were you so long in coming?

MÍTYA. I was detained. [Approaches] Lyubóv Gordéyevna, are you alone?

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Yes, what of it?

MÍTYA. Lyubóv Gordéyevna, how do you wish me to understand your letter? Do you mean it, or is it a joke? [LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA is silent] Tell me, Lyubóv Gordéyevna! I am now in such perplexity that I cannot express it to you. My position in your house is known to you; subordinate to everybody, and I may say utterly despised by Gordéy Kárpych. I’ve had only one feeling, that for you, and if I receive ridicule from you, then it would have been better for me never to have lived in this world. You may trust me! I am telling you the truth.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. No, Mítya dear, what I wrote to you was the truth, and not a joke. And you, do you love me?

MÍTYA. Indeed, Lyubóv Gordéyevna, I do not know how to express to you what I feel. But at least let me assure you that I have a heart in my breast, and not a stone. You can see my love from everything.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. But I thought that you loved Anna Ivánovna.

MÍTYA. That is not true!

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Really, they told me so.

MÍTYA. If this were true, then what sort of a man should I be after acting as I have? Could I declare with words what my heart does not feel! I think such a thing would be dishonorable! I may not be worth your regard, but I’m not the man to deceive you.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. It is impossible to believe you men; all men in the world are deceivers.

MÍTYA. Let them be deceivers, but I am not.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. How can one know! Perhaps you also are deceiving me and want to play a joke on me!

MÍTYA. It would be easier for me to die in this place than to hear such words from you! [Turns away.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. No, Mítya, I didn’t mean it. I know that you love me. I only wanted to tease you. [MÍTYA is silent] Mítya dear! Mítya! Why are you silent? Are you angry with me? I tell you I was only joking! Mítya! Yes! Now, then, say something. [Takes his hand.

MÍTYA. Oh, Lyubóv Gordéyevna, I’m not in a joking humor! I’m not that sort of man.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Don’t be angry.

MÍTYA. If you love me, then stop these jokes! They are not in place. Oh, it’s all the same to me now! [Embraces her] Maybe they can take you from me by force, but I won’t give you up of my free will. I love you more than my life!

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. [Returning his embrace] Mítya dear, what shall we do now?

MÍTYA. What shall we do? We didn’t fall in love with each other just to say good-by!

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Well, but what if they promise me to some one else?

MÍTYA. Look here, Lyubóv, one word! To-morrow we must go together to Gordéy Kárpych, and throw ourselves at his feet. We’ll say so and so—whatever you please, but we can’t live without each other. Yes, if you love me, then forget your pride!

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. What pride, Mítya? Is this a time for pride! Mítya dear, don’t be angry with me; don’t remember my past words. It was only girlish foolishness; I’m sorry that I did it! I shouldn’t have joked with you; I should have caressed you, my poor boy. [Throws her arms round his neck] Oh, but, if father doesn’t consent to our happiness—what then?

MÍTYA. Who can tell beforehand? It will be as God wills. I don’t know how it is with you, but for me life is not life without you! [Is silent.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Some one’s coming! Go away quietly, dearest, and I’ll come later.

MÍTYA goes out quietly. ARÍNA comes in with a candle; LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA goes to meet her.

Scene III

ARÍNA, LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA, and afterwards EGÓRUSHKA

ARÍNA. Well, you! You frightened me enough! What are you doing here? Your mother is looking for you there, and here you are! Why are you wandering about in the dark! Oh, you modest maiden! Fairy princess. [LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA goes out] Well, really, wasn’t some one there with her? [Looks into the corner] But I’m a silly old woman, I suspected some one! [Lights the candles] Oh, deary me, some trouble will be sure to come in my old age. [EGÓRUSHKA enters] Go along, Egórushka, and call the girls in from the neighbors; tell them Pelagéya Egórovna told you to invite them to come and sing songs.

EGÓRUSHKA. Oh! how are you, Arína, my dear?

ARÍNA. What are you so happy about, silly?

EGÓRUSHKA. Why shouldn’t I be happy? It’s such fun! Ha, ha, ha! [Jumps about.

ARÍNA. And maybe the mummers are coming; the young people wanted to dress up.

EGÓRUSHKA. Oh, I shall die! Oh, Lord, I shall die!

ARÍNA. What’s the matter with you, you scamp?

EGÓRUSHKA. Oh, I shall die of laughing! Oh, granny, I’ve got such giggles!

ARÍNA. Dress up yourself.

EGÓRUSHKA. I will, I will! Oh, Lord! Oh, Oh, Oh.

ARÍNA. Now you run along quickly and fetch the girls.

EGÓRUSHKA. In a second! [Goes out.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA comes in.

Scene IV

Arína and Pelagéya Egórovna

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Arinushka, did you send for the girls?

ARÍNA. I did, my dear.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. That’s right. Let them have a song with our folks, and cheer up Lyubóv and the guests. This is the time for them to enjoy themselves—while they’re young. You know what a girl’s life is—behind bolts and bars, never seeing the world! Now’s their holiday!—Yes, let ’em have a good time!

ARÍNA. Yes, to be sure, to be sure! Why shouldn’t they?

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Bring in some Madeira, Arinushka, the oldest we have; and gingerbread for the young people, and sweets—whatever you choose! Attend to it yourself, but don’t forget the Madeira.

ARÍNA. I understand, I understand; there’ll be enough of everything. Directly, my dear, directly!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. And a snack for the young men.

ARÍNA. Everything, everything will be all right. Don’t you worry yourself; you join the guests. I’ll do everything with pleasure. [Goes out.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. [Going to the door] Girls, boys, come here! There’s more room here and it’s lighter.

Enter LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA, MÁSHA, LÍZA, ANNA IVÁNOVNA, RAZLYULYÁYEV, MÍTYA, GÚSLIN, and two GUESTS.

Scene V

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA, LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA, MÁSHA, LÍZA, ANNA IVÁNOVNA, RAZLYULYÁYEV, MÍTYA, GÚSLIN, and two GUESTS (old women).

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. [To the old women] We’ll sit here. [Seats herself on the sofa, with the old women near her; ANNA IVÁNOVNA and GÚSLIN take chairs and talk quietly; MÍTYA stands near them; MÁSHA, LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA, and LÍZA walk about the room with their arms round each other; RAZLYULYÁYEV follows them] We’ll watch them while they play.

LÍZA. “Just imagine, mother!” I said, “he doesn’t know how to talk properly, and he even uses such words that it’s absolutely impolite.”

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Do you mean me?

LÍZA. We aren’t talking about you; it’s no business of yours. [She continues] “But why, mother, must I love him?” [Speaks in a whisper.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Yes, my friend, I love the good old ways. Yes, our good old Russian ways. But there! my husband doesn’t care for them! What can you do about it? That’s his character. But I love them, I’m naturally jolly; yes, I love to give a person a bite and to get them to sing songs to me! Yes, I take after my family. Our family are all jolly, and love singing.

FIRST GUEST. When I look round, my dear Pelagéya Egórovna, there isn’t the gayety that there used to be when we were young.

SECOND GUEST. No, no.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. In my young days I was the merriest sort of girl—always singing and dancing—-indeed I was. Yes, what songs I knew! They don’t sing such songs now.

FIRST GUEST. No, they don’t sing them; new songs have come in now.

SECOND GUEST. Yes, yes, one remembers the old times.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Yasha dear! Sing us some good old songs.

GÚSLIN takes the guitar.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. [To the girls] So it’s no use for me to wait; evidently I shan’t get any sense out of you.

LÍZA. What do you mean by sense? I don’t understand.

MÁSHA. It’s ridiculous to listen to you.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Yes, it’s funny for you; but how is it for me? Really, why don’t you love me?

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Let’s sit down.

They sit down.

GÚSLIN. [Sings]

“Four huts beside the brook
    That swift doth run.
    There is a gossip
    In every one.

Dear gossips all four,
    My friends that be,
    Be friendly and kindly
    And nice to me.

When you’re in the green garden,
    Take me with you;
    When you pluck flowers,
    Pluck me a few.

When you weave garlands,
    Weave me some too;
    When you go to the river,
    Take me with you.

When you throw in the garlands,
    Throw also my wreath;
    The others will float,
    When mine sinks beneath.

All of the sweethearts,
    They have come home;
    Mine, and mine only,
    He has not come.”

ARÍNA. [Enters with bottles and glasses; and a servant-girl with relishes] Here, I’ve brought them!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. [To the servant] Pass it to the young ladies. [The servant carries wine round to the girls, places the tray on the table and goes out] Arína! Bring us some wine. Yes, pour it out, pour out the Madeira, the Madeira; it will cheer us up. That’s all right! Let’s have a glass; they won’t condemn us—we’re old folks! [They drink] Annushka! Come along and drink some wine. Won’t you have some?

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Well, why shouldn’t I drink some! They say, don’t drink when there’s no one round, but when there’s company, it’s all right.

Goes to PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA, drinks and talks in a whisper.

ARÍNA. Have you had a drop too much, my boys?

MÍTYA. I don’t drink.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. With pleasure! [He comes up with GÚSLIN and drinks; then catches hold of ARÍNA] Now, then, let’s start an old song. [Sings.

“Oh, I’ll sing an old song,
    Of Eréma, of Fomá—”

ARÍNA. Stop, saucy; you’ve crumpled me all up!

RAZLYULYÁYEV. [Sings]

“The reins were in Kalúga;
    In Tarús’ the hames were hid.
    Grooved runners had the sleigh;
    All by itself it slid.”

The girls laugh.

ARÍNA. Let me go, I say! Now that’s enough! [Goes out.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. What are you teasing the old woman for? Come and dance with me.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Come on, then! Play for us, Yasha!

YÁSHA plays; they dance.

FIRST GUEST. That’s a lively little woman.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Yes, very lively, very lively.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. [Stamping his feet] That’s the way we do it. [Stops dancing.

EGÓRUSHKA. [Enters] The girls have come.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Ask them in. [EGÓRUSHKA goes out; the girls come in.
ARÍNA brings in a dish and covers it] Sit down and sing the dish songs;
I’m so fond of them.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA, MÁSHA, LÍZA, and ANNA IVÁNOVNA take off their rings and put them into the dish; the girls sing.

“Sow the wheat, my mother, and bake the cake for me.
    Glory!
    Many guests are coming, my lovers for to be. Glory!

Your guests will wear bast slippers, but mine have boots
    of hide. Glory!
    The girl of whom the song is sung, much good it doth betide.
    Glory!

The girl whose ring is taken out, will find it so without a
    doubt. Glory!”

RAZLYULYÁYEV rolls up his sleeves, takes out a ring and gives it to LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. High time, high time!

GIRLS. [Sing]

“In Bélgorod a sparrow small, Glory!
    In Bélgorod sits on a wall. Glory!

In a strange land he looks about. Glory!
    Her ring and fortune will come out. Glory!”

ARÍNA. [Enters] The mummers have come; shall I let them in?

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Yes, let them in; let them have a dance. And you girls can sing afterwards.

Scene VI

The same and mummers; an OLD MAN with a balalaika or guitar, a TRAINER with a bear and goat, EGÓRUSHKA with molasses.

OLD MAN. [Bowing] To all this honest company, greeting!

TRAINER. Make a bow, Mishka! [The bear bows.

OLD MAN. Do you wish me to sing and dance and amuse you, and to limber up my old bones?

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. That’s all right; yes, dance! Give them some wine, Arinushka.

ARÍNA serves the wine; some of them drink.

OLD MAN. Thank you humbly for your kind words, and for the entertainment. [Sings.

“Our lads, though stripped unto the buff,
    Even so are bold enough.
    Their twelve hands go weaving on;
    Now the web of cloth is done.
    They made kaftans for us here;
    Kaftans do not cost you dear
    When you’ve grist within your hopper.
    In our purses silver bright
    Will not let us sleep at night.
    And the jingling coins of copper
    For the tavern raise the call.
    Tapster Andrew, quick undo
    The inn-door. We’ve a kaftan new
    Here to put in pawn with you;
    We won’t take it home at all.”

[Goes to one side.

EGÓRUSHKA. [Dances with the molasses]

“Molasses! Molasses!
    It simmers so sweet.
    Oh, winter is bitter,
    The frost and the sleet.
    Stormy and snowy, oh, ways choked with snow,
    Unto my darling there’s no way to go.

Molasses! Molasses!
    It simmers so sweet.
    Like a little quail my wife
    Sits on her seat.
    And I love her for this, and her praises I tell,
    For she jaunts on so prettily, proudly and well.”

[Bows.

FIRST GUEST. Oh, what a fine boy! Ah!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Why, yes, my friend, he’s still a child; but he does the best he can. He’s young yet. Come here, Egórushka. [EGÓRUSHKA comes] Here’s some gingerbread for you. [Gives it to him; EGÓRUSHKA bows and goes out] Yes, he’s still a child; you can’t expect much from him!

The TRAINEE leads the bear; the goat dances.

OLD MAN. [Sings]

“We had a little billy-goat,
    And he was clever, too;
    He carried in the water,
    And set the mush to brew.

He fed Grandpa and Grandma;
    But when he went one day
    To the dark forest seven wolves
    In waiting for him lay.

And one of them was hungry,
    And many and many a year
    Had he roamed, forever asking
    For goat’s meat far and near.”

TRAINER. [To the bear] Ask for wine, in honor of the goat. [Bear bows.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Arinushka, bring some refreshments for the mummers.

ARÍNA brings them something to drink; they drink and bow.

TRAINER. Now, then, amuse the honorable company. Show how the fair young darlings, the fair young girls, pale and rosy ones, glance at the young men, and watch their suitors. [Bear shows off] And how the old woman goes to work, bending, shrivelled; old age has overcome her, the years have broken her down. [Bear shows off] Well, now bow to the honorable company.1

They go out; the OLD MAN plays the guitar; the other mummers dance; all watch them. GÚSLIN and MÍTYA stand near LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA; MÍTYA whispers something to her, and kisses her. RAZLYULYÁYEV comes up.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. What are you doing?

MÍTYA. What’s that to you?

RAZLYULYÁYEV. I’ll tell Pelagéya Egórovna; just see if I don’t!

MÍTYA. You just dare to tell!

GÚSLIN. [Approaching him] Look out for me! You see we’ll go away from here together; it’ll be dark and the alley is lonely—just remember that!

RAZLYULYÁYEV. What are you meddling with me for? What’s the use? I want to marry her, and I’m going to make proposals. What are you up to! Yes, I mean to marry her!

MÍTYA. We’ll see about that.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Do you think they’ll marry her to you? Not much! Not if I know it—I’ve got lots of money!

ARÍNA. What a racket! Stop! Some one seems to be knocking. [All listen] That’s true! They are knocking.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Go and open the door.

ARÍNA. [Goes out, then returns] He’s come back himself! All rise.

Scene VII

The same with GORDÉY KÁRPYCH and KÓRSHUNOV

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. [To the mummers] What’s this rabble!—Get out! [To his wife] Wife! Pelagéya Egórovna! Greet my guest. [Speaks in a low voice] You’ve ruined me!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. You are welcome, Afrikán Savvich, you are welcome.

KÓRSHUNOV. Good evening, Pelagéya Egórovna. He, he, he! It’s very cheerful here! We’ve struck it just at the right time.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Yes, here I am with the girls. Yes, I’m always with the girls. It’s holiday time; I want to give my daughter some fun.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. You are welcome, Afrikán Savvich; make yourself at home.
[AFRIKÁN SÁVVICH seats himself in the armchair at the table. To his wife]
Turn the hussies out.

KÓRSHUNOV. Why turn them out! Who’s going to turn the girls out. He, he, he! They’ll sing a song, and we’ll listen and watch them, and we’ll give them some money, but not turn them out.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. As you wish, Afrikán Savvich! Only I am abashed before you! But don’t conclude from this that we are all uneducated—this is all the wife; nothing can knock anything into her head. [To his wife] How many times have I told you: if you want to have a party in the evening, call in the musicians, and have things in good form. You can’t say I deny you anything.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Well, what’s the use of musicians—for us old women? You can amuse yourself with them!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. There, that’s the idea of life she has! It makes you laugh to hear her.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. What do you mean? Idea, idea! It would be better for you to give your guest something to eat. Would you like something, Afrikán Savvich? Some wine with us old women? [Pours out Madeira.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. [Severely] Wife! Have you really gone out of your mind! Hasn’t Afrikán Savvich ever seen Madeira before! Order champagne—a half dozen—and be quick about it! Then order lighted candles in the reception-room where the new furniture is. That will give quite another effect.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. I will do it myself at once. [Rises Arinushka, come on. Excuse me, my dear neighbors.

FIRST GUEST. We will come with you, my dear; it’s time we were going home.

SECOND GUEST. It’s time, it’s time! The nights are dark, and the dogs in the lanes are fierce.

FIRST GUEST. Yes, fierce; very fierce! [They bow and go out.

Scene VIII

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH, KÓRSHUNOV, LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA, ANNA IVÁNOVNA, MÁSHA, LÍZA, girls, MÍTYA, GÚSLIN, and RAZLYULYÁYEV.

KÓRSHUNOV. Let’s join the young ladies. Where did you pick up such beauties—he, he! [Walks towards LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA] Good evening, Lyubóv Gordéyevna, my beauty. [LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA bows] May I join your company?

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. We don’t drive any one away.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Be seated; you’ll be our guest.

KÓRSHUNOV. You’re pretty chilly to the old man! It’s Christmas time now, and I suppose we may exchange kisses.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Why be so affectionate?

KÓRSHUNOV. Gordéy Kárpych, may I kiss your daughter? And I must confess—he, he—I’m fond of this sort of thing. Yes, well, who doesn’t like it! He, he!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. You’re welcome to do so; don’t stand on ceremony.

KÓRSHUNOV. Will you give me a kiss, young lady?

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. If my father wants me to. [They exchange kisses.

KÓRSHUNOV. Well now, every one of them, right down the line.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. I suppose so! I’m not proud.

MÁSHA. Oh, how embarrassing!

LÍZA. Well, there’s nothing to be said; I must say it’s a treat!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. [Going up to MÍTYA] Why are you here? Is this your place? “The crow has flown into the lofty palace!”

MÍTYA, GÚSLIN and RAZLYULYÁYEV go out.

Scene IX

Gordéy Kárpych, Kórshunov, Lyubóv Gordéyevna, Anna Ivánovna, Másha, Líza and Girls

KÓRSHUNOV. [Seats himself near LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA] I’m not like you, Lyubóv Gordéyevna; you didn’t even want to kiss me, he, he, he! And I’ve brought you a little present.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. You needn’t have taken the trouble.

KÓRSHUNOV. Here I’ve brought you some diamonds, he, he! [Gives them to her.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Oh, they’re earrings! I thank you humbly.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Show them to us.

MÁSHA. But they are charming!

LÍZA. And in such good taste!

KÓRSHUNOV. Give me your hand. [Takes it and kisses it] You see, I like you very much, he, he, he! I like you very much; well, but you don’t like me, I suppose?

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Why shouldn’t I like you?

KÓRSHUNOV. Why? You like some one else, that’s why. But you will come to love me! I’m a good man—a jolly man, he, he, he!

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. I don’t know what you are talking about.

KÓRSHUNOV. I say, you will come to love me. Why not? I’m not old yet. [Looks at her] Am I an old man? He, he, he! Well, well, there’s no harm in that. To make up for it you shall wear cloth of gold. I haven’t any money! I’m a poor man. I’ve only got about five hundred thousand, he, he, he! In silver! [Takes her hand.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. [Rising] I don’t need your money.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Lyubóv, where are you going?

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. To mother!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Wait! She’ll come here.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA sits down.

KÓRSHUNOV. You don’t want to sit by the old man? Give me your hand, young lady; I will kiss it.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. [Gives her hand] Oh, good heavens!

KÓRSHUNOV. What a hand! He, he, he! Like velvet! [Strokes her hand, and then puts on a diamond ring.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. [Freeing her hand] Oh, let me go! I don’t want it; I don’t want it!

KÓRSHUNOV. That’s all right; it’s no loss to me—it won’t ruin me.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. But I don’t want it. Give it to whomever you like. [Takes it off and returns it.

KÓRSHUNOV. I gave it to you, and I won’t take it back! He, he, he!

Enter PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA, and after her, ARÍNA and EGÓRUSHKA with wine and glasses.

Scene X

The same with PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA, ARÍNA, and EGÓRUSHKA

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Come now and have a drink.

KÓRSHUNOV. All right, Gordéy Kárpych, give me something to drink. And you girls, sing a song in my honor—I love to have respect shown me.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Girls, sing a song for him.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. [Uncorks the bottle, pours out champagne, and offers it to him] To our dear friend Afrikán Savvich! Make a bow, wife!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. If you please, Afrikán Savvich, I humbly beg you.

KÓRSHUNOV takes the glass.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. [Takes the glass] Wife, drink!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Oh, somehow I don’t like this kind of wine! Well, yes! I’ll take just a glass.

GIRLS. [Sing] “Ah, who is he, our bachelor,
    And who is still unwed?
    Afrikán’s our bachelor
    And Savvich still unwed.
    He jumped on the horse,
    The horse skips to and fro;
    He rides through the meadows,
    And green the meadows grow,
    And flowers blow.”

KÓRSHUNOV. [Seats himself near LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA] That’s nice. I like that. Now, then, come here some one. [A girl comes up, he pats her on the cheek] Oh, you little bright eyes! You girls, I suppose, need a lot to set off your fair faces and rosy blushes; he, he, he! But I haven’t any money! It will be on me, he, he, he! Hold out your apron! [He tosses her some small change; the girl bows and goes out] Now, then, Gordéy Kárpych, tell your wife why we came.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. I told you, wife, long ago, that living in this town bored me, because you can’t take a step here without seeing that the people are absolutely ignorant and uneducated. And so I want to move from this place to Moscow. But there will be a man there who is no stranger to us—our dear son-in-law, Afrikán Savvich.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Oh! Oh! What are you saying!

KÓRSHUNOV. Yes, we’ve shaken hands on it, Pelagéya Egórovna. What are you afraid of? I’m not going to eat her!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Oh, Lord! [Seizes her daughter] She’s my daughter! I won’t give her up!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Wife!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. My dear Gordéy Kárpych! Don’t trifle with a mother’s heart! Stop! You’ve fairly staggered me!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Wife, you know me! And you, Afrikán Savvich, don’t be uneasy: with me saying is doing!

KÓRSHUNOV. You have promised—then keep your word. [Rises, goes to the girls, and speaks to them in a low voice.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. [Goes to her father] Father, I will never take a step against your will. But have pity on me, poor girl that I am! Don’t ruin my young life!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. You’re a fool, and don’t understand your own happiness! You’ll live in Moscow like a lady; you’ll ride in a coach. In the first place, you’ll live in the city—and not in a wilderness like this! In the second place, these are my orders!

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. I dare not disobey your command. Father! [Bows down to his feet] Don’t make me unhappy for my whole life! Relent, father! Make me do whatever you like, only don’t compel me to marry a man I don’t love!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. I never take back my word. [Rises.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. As you wish, father! [Bows and goes to her mother.

KÓRSHUNOV. There, that business is over! Now, then, girls—a marriage song!

GIRLS. [Sing] “The flowers in the garden will wither all about me,
    The blue flower in the meadow will be faded and forlorn;
    And so will my darling of the red cheeks without me;
    So rise up early, mother, in the morn.
    You must water all the flowers
    In the dawn and evening hours
    With water very often and with bitter tears in showers.”

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Not that, not that! Sing another!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Let’s go into the reception-room, Afrikán Savvich. Wife, all of you, come there!

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Where can I hide myself!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Arína, bring along the wine!

ARÍNA. Oh, wait, I can’t attend to you now! My darling child! Girls, my dearies! Here’s the song we’ll sing. [She sings.

“Thou art my own, my mother,
    Who grievest day by day,
    And at night to God dost pray.
    Thou who art so downcast,
    Look but once on her here,
    Thy daughter who was so dear—
    For the last time—the last.”

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. For the last time.

At the end of this song GORDÉY KÁRPYCH and KÓRSHUNOV go out; LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA remains in the embrace of her mother, surrounded by her friends.

Act III

A small room in the house of TORTSÓV, furnished with cupboards of various sorts; chests and shelves with plates and silver. Furniture: sofas, armchairs, and tables, all very expensive and crowded together. Usually this room is used as a sort of sitting-room for the mistress of the house, where she directs her household, and where she receives her guests informally. One door leads into the room where the guests are dining, and the other into the inner rooms.

Scene I

Arína is seated on a chair near the door leading into the dining-room; near her are several girls and women.

ARÍNA. [Looking into the dining-room] I didn’t expect this, my dear friends! I never thought to see it! He fell upon us like a hawk—like snow on the head; he seized our darling swan from the flock of her dear ones, from father, from mother, from kinsfolk, and from friends. We didn’t realize what was happening. What things happen in this world of ours! Nowadays people are double-faced and sly, crafty, and cunning. He fairly befogged Gordéy Kárpych with this and that in his old age, and he began to hanker after his wealth. They have engaged our lovely beauty to a disgusting old man. Now she is sitting there, my darling, broken-hearted! Oh, I’m ready to die! After I have brought you up and nursed you, and carried you in my arms! I cared for you like a little bird—in cotton wool! Just now she and I were talking it over together. “We won’t give you up, my child,” I said, “to a common man! Only if some prince comes from foreign lands, and blows his trumpet at our door.” But things didn’t turn out our way. Now there he sits—the man who is going to tear her away—fat and flabby! Staring and smirking at her! He likes it! Oh, confound you! Well, now they’ve finished eating and are getting up; I must set to work.

Rises from her chair; the women go out; PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA comes in.

Scene II

Arína and Pelagéya Egórovna

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Come along, Arinushka, and help me to get the table ready. Yes, I’ll sit down and rest—I’m tired.

ARÍNA. Of course you are tired, my dear! Day in, day out, on your feet! You aren’t as young as you were once!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. [Seating herself on the sofa] Oh! Tell them to send the big samovar to the maids’ room—the very biggest; and find Annushka and send her to me.

ARÍNA. Certainly, certainly.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Yes, go along! Go along! Oh, I can’t stand it! [ARÍNA goes out] My head’s fairly splitting! Nothing but sorrow—and here comes more trouble! Yes, yes, I’m worried to death! Oh, oh, oh! I’m tired out, absolutely tired out! I’ve a lot to do, and my head’s just spinning. I’m needed here, and I’m needed there, and I don’t know what to begin on! Really—yes—[Sits and tries to think] What a husband for her! What a husband! Oh, oh, oh! How can you expect her to love him! Do you think she is hankering after his money? She is a girl now—in the bloom of youth—and I suppose her heart beats now and then! What she ought to have now is a man she can love—even if he’s poor—that would be life! That would be paradise!

ANNA IVÁNOVNA comes in.

Scene III

Pelagéya Egórovna and Anna Ivánovna

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Here are the keys of the tea cupboard. Go along and pour it out for the guests, and do everything that is necessary—you know yourself! I’ve walked my legs off! But you don’t mind it; you’re young yet—yes, go and serve them.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. I’d just as soon as not. It’s no great work; my hands won’t wear out!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. There—there’s the tea in the cupboard, in the little red caddy.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA unlocks the door and takes out the caddy. MÍTYA comes in.

Scene IV

The same and MÍTYA

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. What do you want, Mítya dear?

MÍTYA. [Keeping back his tears] I—I—Pelagéya Egórovna, for all your kindness, and for all your consideration—even though it may be I am not worth it—seeing that while I was an orphan—you never deserted me—and like a mother—I will be thankful to you all my life, and will always pray to God for you. [Bows down to her feet.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. But what are you doing, Mítya?

MÍTYA. I thank you for everything. And now good-by, Pelagéya Egórovna. [Rises.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Where are you going?

MÍTYA. I plan to go to my mother’s.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Are you going for long?

MÍTYA. Yes, I asked the master for a vacation, and it’s most likely that I’ll stay there for good.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. But why do you wish to leave us, Mítya?

MÍTYA. [Hesitating] Why, I just!—You see—I’ve already decided.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. But when are you going?

MÍTYA. To-night. [Is silent] I thought to myself that I shouldn’t see you before to-night, and so I came to say good-by.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Very well, Mítya, if you are needed there—we won’t keep you; God be with you! Good-by!

MÍTYA. [_Bows down to the feet of _PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA, exchanges kisses with her and with ANNA IVÁNOVNA; then bows again and waits] Might I be allowed to say good-by to Lyubóv Gordéyevna? You see we have lived in the same house—maybe I shall die before I see her again!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Yes, you must, you must. Say good-by to her, of course! Annushka, go and fetch Lyubóv.

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. [Shaking her head] “One man leads her by one hand, another by the other, a third stands and sheds tears; he loved her, but did not get her.”

Scene V

Pelagéya Egórovna and Mítya

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Oh, Mítya, my dear! What trouble we are in! How can we drive it away—get rid of it—I cannot think. It’s as if a thunderbolt had struck me! I can’t recover myself.

MÍTYA. You have no one to blame but yourself for your unhappiness, Pelagéya Egórovna; you are marrying her off yourself, ma’am.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Yes, we are doing it ourselves; we are marrying her off ourselves! Only it’s not with my consent, Mítya! If I had my way, do you think I’d give her up? Do you think I’m her enemy?

MÍTYA. He’s a man—from what I hear—not a very great catch! There’s nothing good to be heard of him—except what’s bad.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. I know, Mítya dear, I know.

MÍTYA. Well, from all accounts, I must say this, that most likely Lyubóv Gordéyevna, married to such a man, and living far away from you, will absolutely perish—no doubt of it.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Oh, don’t speak of it to me, don’t speak of it! I’m distracted enough about it without your saying anything. I’ve worn my eyes out with gazing at her! If I could only look at her enough to last me forever! It’s as if I were getting ready to bury her.

MÍTYA. [Nearly weeping] How can such things happen? How can people do such things? She’s your own daughter, I suppose!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. If she weren’t my own, then I shouldn’t be weeping and wailing, and my heart wouldn’t be breaking over her tears.

MÍTYA. Why weep? It would be better not to marry her. Why are you ruining the girl’s life, and giving her into slavery? Isn’t this a sin? You will have to answer for it to God.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. I know, I know it all, but I tell you, Mítya, it’s not my doing. Why do you keep on blaming me? It’s horrible enough for me without your talking about it, and you stir me up still more. Mítya, you should pity me!

MÍTYA. It’s true, Pelagéya Egórovna, but I can’t endure this sorrow. Maybe it’s worse for me than for you! I trust you so much, Pelagéya Egórovna, that I will open my heart to you as if you were my own mother. [Dries his eyes with his handkerchief] Yesterday evening, when you were having the evening party. [Tears prevent him from speaking]

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Well, well, tell me, tell me!

MÍTYA. Well, then, she and I made a compact in the dark, that we would go together to you and to Gordéy Kárpych, and beg you humbly; we were going to say: “Give us your blessing; we cannot live without each other any longer.” [Dries his tears] And now suddenly, this morning, I heard—and my arms just dropped by my side!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. What are you saying?

MÍTYA. I swear it, Pelagéya Egórovna, in the name of the Lord!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Oh, my dear boy! What a luck-less lad you are, now that I know all!

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA comes in.

Scene VI

The same and LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Here, Lyubóv dear! Mítya has come to say good-by; he is going away from here to his mother’s.

MÍTYA. [Bows] Good-by, Lyubóv Gordéyevna! Don’t bear me any ill will!

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Good-by, Mítya! [Bows]

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Kiss each other good-by; it may be that God will not let you see each other again. Well, never mind! [MÍTYA and LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA kiss each other; she seats herself on the sofa and weeps; MÍTYA also weeps] Stop, stop your weeping! you will drive me wild!

MÍTYA. Oh, I’ll risk everything now; everything in the world! [Goes to PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA] Pelagéya Egórovna, are you sorry to marry your daughter to an old man, or not?

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. If I weren’t sorry, I shouldn’t be crying.

MÍTYA. Will you permit me to speak, Pelagéya Egórovna?

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Speak!

MÍTYA. This is what I have to say: Get her ready and put on her warm clothes. Let her slip out quietly; I’ll seat her in my fairy sleigh, and that’s the last of us. Then the old man will never see her any more than his own ears! And no matter if I do go to ruin! I will take her to my mother and there we will get married. Oh, just give us a chance! I want some joy in life! At any rate, if I have to pay the price, at least I shall know that I’ve really lived.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. What do you mean? What do you mean, you scamp?

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. What an idea, Mítya!

MÍTYA. So you don’t love me? Or have you ceased to love me?

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. What you say is dreadful!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. What an idea, you scamp! Who would dare to take such a sin on his soul? Yes, come to your senses! What are you thinking of?

MÍTYA. Why, I said if you’re sorry! But if you’re not sorry—then give her to Afrikán Savvich; sell her into slavery forever and ever. You’ll be miserable yourselves when you see her wretched life; you’ll come to your senses, you and Gordéy Kárpych, but then it will be too late.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. But how could you, without her father’s blessing? How could you? Judge for yourself!

MÍTYA. Certainly, how could we live without a blessing! Then you bless us, Pelagéya Egórovna. [Kneels down] and Gordéy Kárpych, it may be—himself, in time—somehow—-

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. What can I say to you? I feel altogether distracted.—Yes, I’m going out of my mind! I don’t know anything! I don’t remember anything! Yes, yes, my head spins. Oh, my darlings, my heart is torn!

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Goes to MÍTYA] No, Mítya, this can’t be! Don’t torture yourself for nothing; stop! [Raises him up] Don’t tear my soul! Already my heart is all withered away within me! God be with you; good-by!

MÍTYA. Why did you deceive me and mock at me?

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Don’t, Mítya! Why should I deceive you? Why? I fell in love with you; so I told you, myself. But now we must not go against the will of our parents. For it is the will of my father that I should marry; I must submit to him—that is a girl’s lot. It must be that that’s the right thing since it was so ordained of old. I don’t want to go against my father; I don’t wish people to talk about me and make an example of me. Although it may be I have broken my heart because of this—at any rate I know that I am acting according to law; no one will dare to look me in the face and jeer. Good-by! [They kiss]

MÍTYA. Well, now I know my fate! [LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA seats herself on the sofa and weeps] Good-by! [Bows to PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA] Good-by, Pelagéya Egórovna, you have been my benefactress! So long as I live I shall not forget your goodness and kindness to me; you did not forget the orphan in a strange land.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Good-by, my dear; do not blame us in any way—that would be a sin for you. God grant that you may live happily; we shall not forget you. MÍTYA bows and goes out.

Scene VII

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA, LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA and later KÓRSHUNOV.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. How I pity that boy, Lyubóv dear! Oh, my child, oh, dear! It never entered my head that you loved him. How could I guess it, poor old woman that I am! What do I amount to? There, crying is our business, and I haven’t any authority over my daughter! But it would be a good idea! I’d enjoy the sight of you in my old age. The boy is such an honest fellow, with such a tender heart, and he would be fond of me in my old age. And as I look at you, my child, how can you help being sad? And I have no way to help you, my darling!

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Well, mother, what’s the use of thinking about what’s impossible, and only torturing ourselves?

Seats herself and is silent; some one knocks; the voice of KÓRSHUNOV is heard, “May I come in?”

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Come in, sir. KÓRSHUNOV. [Entering] Ah, there she is, my bride! Where were you hiding yourself? He, he! I’ll find you, I’ll find you anywhere. If you please, Pelagéya Egórovna, permit me to talk confidentially with your daughter about our own affairs.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Certainly. [Goes out. KÓRSHUNOV. [Seats himself near LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA] What are you crying about, young lady? For shame, for shame! He, he, he! There! I’m older than you, and I don’t cry. [Looks at her searchingly] Oh, well, I know what it’s about! I suppose you want to marry a young fellow? Now, this, my pretty one [takes her hand and kisses it] is just girlish folly. Now, just listen to what I’m going to tell you; I’ll tell you the truth straight out. I don’t like to deceive any one, and have no need to. Will you listen, eh?

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Yes.

KÓRSHUNOV. Good! Now, we’ll begin with this point. Will a young man appreciate your love? Any girl will love a young man; that is nothing unusual for him; but to an old man it is precious. An old man will reward you for your love with some little gift, this and that—with gold, and with velvet—and there’s nothing he won’t give you. [Kisses her hand] And in Moscow there are lots of nice things in the shops; there are things worth giving! So it’s nice to fall in love with an old man. That’s number one for you! And then this is what happens with a young and good-looking husband. You see they are a fickle lot! Before you know it he will be running after some one else, or some young lady will fall in love with him, and then his wife may pine away. Then come reproaches and jealousy. And what is this jealousy, eh? He, he, he! Do you know, young lady, what this jealousy is?

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. No, I don’t know.

KÓRSHUNOV. But I know! It isn’t like a needle prick in the finger; it’s far more painful than that. You see the cursed thing consumes a man. From jealousy people stab one another, and poison one another with arsenic! [Laughs spasmodically and coughs] But when any one falls in love with an old man, then all is peaceful for his wife. And here’s something else I will tell you, my dear young lady: Young men like to go on sprees; they like gayety and distraction, and all sorts of dissipations, and their wives may sit at home and wait for them till midnight. And they come home drunk, and bully their wives, and swagger. But an old man will just sit near his wife; he’ll die before he’ll leave her. And he would like to look into her eyes all the time and to caress her and to kiss her hands. [Kisses them] Just like that.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Did your deceased wife love you?

KÓRSHUNOV. [Looks at her attentively] And why do you ask this, young lady?

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. I just wanted to know.

KÓRSHUNOV. You wanted to know? [Rises] No, she didn’t love me, and I didn’t love her either. She wasn’t worth loving—I took her, poor, a beggar, just for her beauty; I took care of her whole family; I saved her father from prison; she went about in gold.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Love cannot be bought with gold.

KÓRSHUNOV. Whether you love a man or not, you ought to show him some regard. They needed money, they had nothing to live on; I gave it to them, I didn’t refuse. And I needed their love. Had I a right to exact this or not? You see I paid money for it! It’s a sin to make complaints about me. Whoever I love has a good living in the world, and if I don’t love any one, then he need not reproach me. [He becomes excited and walks about] Yes, I’m that man’s enemy; he’d better keep out of my sight! My words and looks, more than my deeds, shall pursue him! I won’t give the man room to breathe! I—[Stops and bursts out laughing] And you really thought that I was such a cross man? He, he! I said it in fun, for a joke! I’m a simple, kind old man! I’ll dandle you in my arms [hums]; I’ll rock you in a little cradle; I’ll sing you to sleep. [Kisses her hands.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH comes in.

Scene VIII

Lyubóv Gordéyevna, Kórshunov, and Gordéy Kárpych

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Ah, so that’s where my son-in-law is! We’ve been looking for you. We’ve already started in on the champagne. Come along to the guests; at our house a feast isn’t a feast without you.

KÓRSHUNOV. I like it here.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Then we’ll order it to be served here, and we’ll drink it with you. [Walks to the door] Hey, boy, serve the wine here! On a silver tray! [Sits down] Now, son-in-law, what do you say?

KÓRSHUNOV. Nothing.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. How, nothing?

KÓRSHUNOV. Just nothing.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. But don’t you really? [Looks at him] Can you understand me now?

KÓRSHUNOV. Why shouldn’t I understand you?

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Now we’ve had this little spree! So now you tell me, what sort of a man I am. Can they appreciate me here?

KÓRSHUNOV. Why should they appreciate you?

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. No, tell me this: Isn’t everything well done here? In other houses a young fellow waits at table in a Russian smock, or there’s a peasant girl; but in my house there’s a butler in cotton gloves. This butler is a trained man, from Moscow; he knows all the ways of society—where each man should be seated, and what’s to be done. But how is it at other people’s houses? They collect in one room, they sit down in a ring, and sing peasant songs. Of course it’s jolly, but I consider it’s vulgar; there’s no style about it. And what do they drink in their boorishness? Home-made cordials, all sorts of cherry water! And they don’t even know that champagne is the proper thing! Oh, if I could live in Moscow, or in Petersburg, I’d make a point of following every fashion.

KÓRSHUNOV. You don’t mean every fashion?

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Every one. As long as my money held out, I wouldn’t stint myself. You just look out, Lyubóv; you toe the mark! Or else your bridegroom—you see he’s from Moscow—may be ashamed of you. I suppose you don’t even know how to walk gracefully, and you don’t understand how to talk as is proper in company.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. I say what I feel, father; I wasn’t brought up in a boarding-school.

The butler enters, and gives wine to KÓRSHUNOV and GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. He places the bottles on the table, and goes out.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. That’s it, son-in-law! Just let them know what sort of man Gordéy Kárpych Tortsóv is!

EGÓRUSHKA comes in.

EGÓRUSHKA. Uncle Gordéy Kárpych, come here, if you please.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. What’s the matter with you?

EGÓRUSHKA. Come, please: there’s such a scene! [Laughs]

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. [Approaching] What’s the matter?

EGÓRUSHKA. Uncle Lyubím Kárpych has come in.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Why did they let him in?

EGÓRUSHKA. It must be that he just took it into his head; we can’t stop him, anyhow. [Bursts out laughing.]

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. What’s he doing?

EGÓRUSHKA. He’s turning out the guests. [Bursts out laughing] “You’re glad to eat another man’s bread,” says he. “I’m also the host,” says he. “I,” says he—— [Bursts out laughing.]

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Sh—he’s ruined me!

[Goes out with EGÓRUSHKA.]

KÓRSHUNOV. What’s all this about?

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. I don’t know. It must be that uncle is—Sometimes he takes a notion.

Enter RAZLYULYÁYEV, MÁSHA, and LÍZA.

Scene IX

Lyubóv Gordéyevna, Kórshunov, Razlyulyáyev, Másha, and Líza

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. [At the door] Where is your brother? Where is Lyubím Kárpych? What has he done? Oh, misery!

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. He isn’t here, mother.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA goes out.

RAZLYULYÁYEV. There you are! Lyubím Kárpych is playing some famous tricks! Ha, ha, ha! He’s cutting up such capers, it beats all!

LÍZA. It isn’t at all funny, it’s just rude!

MÁSHA. I simply didn’t know what to do from embarrassment.

They seat themselves on the sofa. LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH comes in.

Scene X

The same and LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH

LÍZA. Oh, good heavens, again!

MÁSHA. This is terrible!

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Ha, ha, ha!

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. Gurr, gurr, gurr; bul, bul, bul! With the finger nine! With the cucumber fifteen! How do, friend! [Holds out his hand to KÓRSHUNOV] My respects! I haven’t seen you for a thousand years and a day! How are you?

KÓRSHUNOV. Oh, is this you, Lyubím?

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. [Covering his face with his hands] I’m not I, and the horse is not mine, and I’m not a coachman.

KÓRSHUNOV. I remember you, brother! You used to roam the town and pick up kopeks.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. You remember how I used to pick up kopeks, but do you remember how you and I used to go on sprees together? How we sat through the dark autumn nights, and how we skipped back and forth, from the tavern to the wine-shop? And don’t you know who ruined me, and who turned me out with a beggar’s wallet?

KÓRSHUNOV. Why didn’t you look out for yourself? Nobody dragged you in by the collar, my dear fellow. It’s your own fault.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. I was a fool! But, well, you haven’t much to be proud of! You raised me to such heights, you promoted me to such a place—I’ve stolen nothing, and yet I’m ashamed to look men in the eyes!

KÓRSHUNOV. You’re the same old joker as ever! [Turning to LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA] You’ve got a jolly uncle! For old acquaintance sake, we’ll surely have to give him a ruble.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. Sh! It’s not a question of rubles here! Pay up your old debts, and for my niece here a million three hundred thousand! I won’t sell her cheaper.

KÓRSHUNOV. [Laughing] Won’t you come down?

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. Not a kopek!

RAZLYULYÁYEV. Aha, Lyubím Kárpych! Don’t you take any less!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH comes in.

Scene XI

The same with GORDÉY KÁRPYCH

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. So you are here! What are you doing in my house? Clear out!

KÓRSHUNOV. Wait a bit, Gordéy Kárpych; don’t turn him out! Why turn him out? Let him show off and make jokes. He, he, he!

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. It’s my brother that’s joking, in giving his daughter to you, but I’ll play such a joke on you as won’t suit your stomach!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. This isn’t the place for him. Get out!

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. Wait, brother, don’t turn me out! Do you think Lyubím Tortsóv has come to make jokes? Do you think Lyubím Tortsóv is drunk? I have come to you to ask riddles. [To KÓRSHUNOV] Why has an ass long ears? Now, then, give us an answer?

RAZLYULYÁYEV. That’s a hard one!

KÓRSHUNOV. How do I know?

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. So that all may know that he is an ass. [To his brother] Here’s a riddle for you! To whom are you marrying your daughter?

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. That’s not your affair! You’ve no business to ask me.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. And here’s another question for you. Are you an honest merchant, or not? If you are honest, don’t associate with a dishonest one. You can’t touch soot and not be defiled.

KÓRSHUNOV. Joke away—but don’t forget yourself, my dear fellow! Turn him out, or make him keep quiet.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. That meant you! One can see you are as clean as a chimney-sweep!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Brother, go away quietly, or it will be the worse for you.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. [Starting up in a fright] Uncle, stop!

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. I won’t be quiet! Now blood has begun to talk! All the domestics and guests enter.

Scene XII

The same with PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA, ANNA IVÁNOVNA, GÚSLIN, guests, and servants.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. Listen, good people! They are insulting Lyubím Tortsóv, they are driving him away. But am I not a guest too? Why should they drive me away? My clothes are not clean, but I have a clean conscience! I’m not Kórshunov; I didn’t rob the poor, I didn’t ruin another’s life, I didn’t torment my wife with jealousy. Me they drive away, but he’s their most esteemed guest, and he’s put in the place of honor. Well, never mind! They’ll give him another wife. My brother is marrying his daughter to him! Ha, ha, ha! [Laughs tragically]

KÓRSHUNOV. [Jumps up] Don’t believe him; he lies! He says this out of spite to me. He’s drunk!

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. How out of spite? I pardoned you long ago. I’m a man of small account, a crawling worm, the lowest of the low! But don’t you do evil to others.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. [To the servants] Take him away!

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. [Holding up one finger] Sh, don’t touch me! It’s an easy life in this world for a man whose eyes are shameless! Oh, men, men! Lyubím Tortsóv is a drunkard, but he’s better than you! Here, now, I’ll go away of my own accord. [Turning to the crowd] Make way—Lyubím Tortsóv is going! [Goes, and suddenly turns round] Unnatural monster! [Goes out]

KÓRSHUNOV. [Laughing in a forced way] So that’s the way you keep order in your house! That’s how you follow the fashions! At your house drunkards insult the guests! He, he, he! “I,” says he, “shall go to Moscow; here they don’t understand me!” Such fools are almost extinct in Moscow! They laugh at ’em there! “Son-in-law, son-in-law!” He, he, he! “Dear father-in-law!” No, humbug, I won’t let myself be insulted for nothing. No, you come along and bow down to me! Beg me to take your daughter!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. You think I’ll bow down to you?

KÓRSHUNOV. Yes, you will; I know you! You want a fine wedding. You’d hang yourself if only to astonish the town! But nobody wants her! How unlucky for you! He, he he!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. After you’ve said such words as these I won’t have anything more to do with you! I never bowed down to any one in my life! If it comes to this, I’ll marry her to any man I choose. With the money that I shall give as her dowry any man will—— MÍTYA comes in, and stops in the doorway.

Scene XIII

The same and MÍTYA

MÍTYA. [Turning towards the crowd] What’s all this noise?

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Here, I’ll marry her to Mítya!

MÍTYA. What, sir?

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Silence! Yes—I’ll marry her to Mítya—to-morrow! And I’ll give her such a wedding as you never saw! I’ll get musicians from Moscow! I’ll ride alone in four coaches!

KÓRSHUNOV. We’ll see, we’ll see! You’ll come to ask my pardon, you will! [Goes out.

Scene XIV

The same without KÓRSHUNOV

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. To whom, Gordéy Kárpych, did you say?

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. To Mítya—Yes! What airs he put on! As if I were worse than he! “You’ll come and bow down!” He lies! I won’t go and bow down! Just to spite him I’ll marry her to Dmitry. [All are astonished. MÍTYA. [Takes LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA by the hand and goes to GORDÉY KÁRPYCH] Why out of spite, Gordéy Kárpych? One does not do such things out of spite. I don’t want you to do it out of spite. I’d rather suffer torment all my life. If you are kind enough, then give us your blessing as is proper, in a fatherly fashion, with love. Because we love each other, and even before this happened, we wanted to confess our guilt to you. And now I’ll be a true son to you forever, with all my heart.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. What, what, “with all your heart”? You’re glad of the chance! But how did you ever dare to think of it? Is she your equal? Remember to whom you’re talking.

MÍTYA. I know very well that you are my master, and that I, because of my poverty, cannot be her equal; but however, think as you please. Here I am; I’ve fallen in love with your daughter with all my heart and soul.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH comes in and takes his stand in the crowd.

Scene XV

The same and LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. Well, how could you help loving her? Your taste isn’t bad! And you’ll get plenty of money with her, which is fine for a penniless fellow like you—without a rag to your back!

MÍTYA. It is so insulting for me to hear this from you, that I have no words. Better keep silent. [Walks away] If you please, Lyubóv Gordéyevna, you speak.

LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA. Father, I have never gone against your will! If you wish for my happiness, then give me to Mítya.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Why, why, really, Gordéy Kárpych, why do you keep changing your mind so? Why do you? I was beginning to feel happy; my heart was just beginning to feel easy, and now you begin again. Do stick to something; otherwise what does all this mean? Really! First you say to one man, and then to the other! Was she born your daughter just to be a martyr?

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. [From the crowd] Brother, give Lyubóv to Mítya!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. You here again! Do you understand what you’ve done to me to-day? You’ve put me to shame before the whole town! If you felt this you wouldn’t dare to show yourself in my sight—and then you slink in and give me advice! If it were only a man talking and not you.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. You’d better bow down to Lyubím Tortsóv’s feet, just because he has put you to shame.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. That’s it, dear Lyubím! We ought to bow down to your feet; that’s just it! You have taken a great sin from our souls; all our prayers could never have freed us from this sin.

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. What, am I a monster to my own family?

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. You’re no monster, but you would have ruined your daughter through your own folly; I tell you this straight out! They marry girls to old men who are a lot better than Afrikán Savvich, and even so they live miserable lives.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. Permit me! [Sings] Tum-ty-tum, tum-ty-tum! [Dances] Look at me, here’s an example for you! Lyubím Kárpych stands before you large as life! He went along that road, he knows what it is! And I was rich and respected, I drove about in coaches, I played such pranks as would never come into your head; and then head over heels down. Just see what a dandy I am!

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. No matter what you say to me, I don’t want to listen; you are my enemy for the rest of my life.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. Are you a man, or a wild beast? Have pity on Lyubím Tortsóv! [Kneels down] Brother, give Lyubóv to Mítya—he will give me a corner. I was chilled and hungry. I was growing old, and it was hard for me to play the fool in the cold for a piece of bread; at least in one’s old age one wants to live decently. You see I’ve been cheating people, I’ve been begging alms, and have spent it in drink. They’ll give me work, and then I’ll have my kettle of soup. Then I’ll thank God, brother; even my tears will reach to heaven. What if he is poor, eh? If I had been poor, I should have been a man. Poverty is no crime.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Gordéy Kárpych, haven’t you any feelings?

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. [Wiping away a tear] And you really thought that I hadn’t? [Lifts up his brother] Well, brother, thank you for bringing me back to reason; I almost went out of my mind completely. I don’t know how such a rotten notion got into my head. [Embraces MÍTYA and LYUBÓV GORDÉYEVNA] Now, children, say thank you to your Uncle Lyubím Kárpych, and live in happiness.

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA embraces the children.

GÚSLIN. Uncle, may I speak now?

GORDÉY KÁRPYCH. You may, you may! Ask for whatever you want, every one of you! Now I have become another man.

GÚSLIN. Well, Annushka, it’s our turn now!

ANNA IVÁNOVNA. Well, now, we’ll have a dance; only hold your hat on!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Yes, let’s dance, let’s dance!

RAZLYULYÁYEV. [Goes to MÍTYA and slaps him on the shoulder] Mítya! For a friend I give up everything! I loved her myself, but for you—I give her up. Give me your hand. [Clasps his hand] That’s all—take her; I give her up to you! For a friend I don’t regret anything! That’s the way we do it when it comes to the point! [Wipes away his tears with the lappet of his coat and kisses MÍTYA] He told the truth then; drunkenness is no crime—well, I mean—poverty is no crime. I always make slips!

PELAGÉYA EGÓROVNA. Oh, yes, here they all are! [To the girls] Now, then, girls, a jolly song! Yes, a jolly one! Now we’ll celebrate the wedding with all our hearts! With all our hearts! [The girls begin to sing.

LYUBÍM KÁRPYCH. Sh! Obey orders! He sings; the girls join in.
   “We have done the business;
    All the trade is driven.
    The betrothal we will plight,
    And upon the wedding night
    A fine feast shall be given.”

Notes

1 Ostróvsky, it may be remarked, has been singularly neglected by translators from the Russian. The only previous versions of complete plays in English known to the present writer are “The Storm.” by Constance Garnett (London and Chicago, 1899, and since reprinted), and “Incompatibility of Temper” and “A Domestic Picture” (in “The Humour of Russia,” by E.L. Voynich, London and New York, 1895).

1 The name hints at a Circassian origin and a tyrannical disposition. Ostróvsky frequently gives to the persons in his plays names that suggest their characteristics.

2 Hope.

¹ The whole scene in a whisper.

1 Vulture

1 A turnip.

1 Ostróvsky is of course reproducing actual Christmas customs. Count Ilya Tolstoy, in his Reminiscences of Tolstoy, tells how his father played the part of the bear at the family Christmas party.