[The curtain rises on an empty stage.Zama,an old servant woman dressed in dull purples and grays, hurries in from the right. She stops at centre stage and glances about searchingly, then calls in a weazen voice.
[The curtain rises on an empty stage.Zama,an old servant woman dressed in dull purples and grays, hurries in from the right. She stops at centre stage and glances about searchingly, then calls in a weazen voice.
ZAMA. Ohano—Ohano! Where do you be, child?
[Listens, looks about, sees drawn shade at the rear, and sighs as she goes to it and starts to raise it.[As the shade rolls out of sight we see through the open window a bit of quaint cliff garden that overlooks a sea of green. The rocks are higher on the left, near the window, where a purple-pink vine in full blossom has started to climb. At the right the rocks slope down to the sea. At centre, stone steps lead up to a slender stone pedestal that holds a gazing globe, now a brilliant gold in the late afternoon sunlight.Ohano,with hands clasped round the globe, is gazing at it. She is a woman of the early twenties, beautiful and gowned in a flowing kimono-like robe of green with embroideries of white and blue.
[Listens, looks about, sees drawn shade at the rear, and sighs as she goes to it and starts to raise it.
[As the shade rolls out of sight we see through the open window a bit of quaint cliff garden that overlooks a sea of green. The rocks are higher on the left, near the window, where a purple-pink vine in full blossom has started to climb. At the right the rocks slope down to the sea. At centre, stone steps lead up to a slender stone pedestal that holds a gazing globe, now a brilliant gold in the late afternoon sunlight.Ohano,with hands clasped round the globe, is gazing at it. She is a woman of the early twenties, beautiful and gowned in a flowing kimono-like robe of green with embroideries of white and blue.
ZAMA. [In a chiding, motherly way.] Ohano, my child, you must not be so much at that evil ball! How many times be I not telling you it is anenchantedball?
OHANO. Yes, Zama, I hope it is enchanted. I've tried every other means to gain the way to my heart's desire—and they've all failed me. The story these islanders have woven round this gazing globe may be but a myth—but if it shows me the way to my freedom, I shall not have looked at it in vain.
ZAMA. Be you forgetting, child, 'tis said that evil ball shows only the way to destruction!
OHANO. Yes, these island people will create any myth, go any length, to keep one thinking, living in their narrow way. You are destined for evil if you try to follow the urge of your own heart—oh, yes, I know.
ZAMA. Butyourheart, child, should only be wanting the love of Nijo.
OHANO. Nijo—I am hoping that he will be big enough to help me—but my lover has been away so long——
ZAMA. But to-day he be coming back—I came to tell you I think I saw his boat——
OHANO. Nijo's boat? Where?
ZAMA. It be near the edge of the island just where——
OHANO. Why didn't you tell me before?
ZAMA. I came to—but I be forgetting when I see you at that evil ball again.
OHANO. [All eagerness.] Perhaps we can see him land—from here on the rocks—come, Zama, I hear the sound of voices down near the sea—come! [They climb to the highest rock.] Look, Zama, the boat is there! Already there in the green water against the shore!
ZAMA. It do seem to be so.
[Peers toward right.
OHANO. Andthere—is Nijo!
ZAMA. Where, where, child?
OHANO. There—see, he's just coming ashore—oh, Nijo!And look, Zama, look what the people crowding round him have done—look!
ZAMA. What? My poor eyes be yet uncertain. What do they be doing to your lover?
OHANO. They have put upon him the Robe of Flame—to greet him with the highest honor of the island.
ZAMA. So they be. The robe they say the gods themselves did wear when time did first begin. Nijo must come back a great warrior now—a great warrior!
OHANO. Oh, how wonderful to return from the wars like that! Zama, I want to—Imustgo out into the world and do great things too, like Nijo.
ZAMA. Nijo be coming back, child. That do be enough. Look, what is it that glitters so in the sun?
OHANO. Why, they are giving something to my red god—something that's long as a serpent moon—see, he holds it out in admiration, before him. Just what can it be?
ZAMA. In faith I do believe they have given your hero—a sword!
OHANO. A marvellous sword—look, its jewels flash with the shifting lights, warm as the colored rifts of sunset!
ZAMA. Such gems do be a tribute to his greatness, Ohano, they do.
OHANO. How gladly would I have the way I seek without such tribute—how willingly!
ZAMA. And now the crowd do be parting—he leaves the boat and he looks this way, Ohano—he looks!
OHANO. Nijo, my red wonder of the world!
ZAMA. See, he mounts his steed—he waves to you!
OHANO. Nijo! Nijo!
ZAMA. And now he rides off to come to you here. It is better we be waiting inside for him—when he brings back his love to his promised bride.
OHANO. [As they enter room.] Ah, Zama, he must bring memore than love this time—much more. Yes, your little Ohano must have more in her life to-day than just love—and Nijo must show her the way to that realm where she may stretch her soul andlive!
ZAMA. The love of so great a man do be enough for any woman, child.
OHANO. Oh, no—oh, no——
ZAMA. But it do be; and evil will fall, I know, if you do be asking more than love!
OHANO. But I tell you, Nijo's love is not enough. I must have a bigger, greater thing!
ZAMA. The gods do know of none that be more than love.
OHANO. But there must be, else why would I feel the rush of its pulse within my veins? Why would my whole being cry out for action and the glory of doing big things in the lands across the sea? Why, tell me why, I would feel those things if they were not so?
ZAMA. It be not for me to say, child; but I do be thinking you moon at that evil ball too much. It do make your sight grow red! It be not wise to know an enchanted thing so well.
OHANO. If that gazing globe in the garden would only show me the way to my heart's desire, how gladly would I be the victim of its enchantment!
ZAMA. Nijo's kiss do be your enchantment, child. One touch of his lips and you do be forgetting all else.
OHANO. If Nijo's kiss can make me forget this fever within me, I want his kiss as I shall never want anything else in all of this life. I want it!!
[Approaching horse's hoofs are heard from off right.
[Approaching horse's hoofs are heard from off right.
ZAMA. Listen—the horse! Ohano, your lover do be coming!
OHANO. [Running to the window.] Already? He must have taken the short way through the cliffs.
ZAMA. Ah, child, do you not be excited as a bird in a storm-wind's blow?
OHANO. [Superbly, as she leans against window.] Yes, I await my hero!
ZAMA. He's stopped, child! He do be here! At last he comes back to my little Ohano!
OHANO. My hope comes! [With outstretched arms to right.] My Nijo!! Oh——!
[She had impulsively started to greetNijo,but suddenly shrinks back.
[She had impulsively started to greetNijo,but suddenly shrinks back.
ZAMA. What do be wrong—what?
OHANO. He's so different—so changed—oh, here he is—ssh!
[Nijoappears at the window, where he pauses for a moment. He is a tall, brunette man, scarcely thirty—a handsome, well-knit southern island type, wearing a flowing robe of flame, with a flaring collar of old-gold brocade. A peaked hat completes the costume. A curved sword, with a hilt thickly studded with large jewels and incased in gold, hangs at his belt. He seems worldly weary and sad as he advances into the room.
[Nijoappears at the window, where he pauses for a moment. He is a tall, brunette man, scarcely thirty—a handsome, well-knit southern island type, wearing a flowing robe of flame, with a flaring collar of old-gold brocade. A peaked hat completes the costume. A curved sword, with a hilt thickly studded with large jewels and incased in gold, hangs at his belt. He seems worldly weary and sad as he advances into the room.
OHANO. Nijo!
NIJO. [Unimpassioned.] Ohano.
OHANO. [Eagerly.] You have come back!
NIJO. Yes—and the season of the heat has been gracious to your health, I hope?
OHANO. Yes—and yours, Nijo?
NIJO. The same.
OHANO. Oh, I am glad—glad as tree-blossoms for the kiss of spring. And Zama here shares my welcome, don't you?
NIJO. [RecognizingZama.] Ah, Zama.
ZAMA. [Bowing before him.] The gods do be kind to bring back a hero to us.
NIJO. Thank you.
ZAMA. Now I do be going for refreshments for your weariness;great it must be after so long a voyage.
[Exits right.
OHANO. Shall we not sit here?
NIJO. As you will.
[OhanoandNijosit upon mats near the window, partly facing each other.
[OhanoandNijosit upon mats near the window, partly facing each other.
OHANO. They—they gave you a sword at the boat.
NIJO. [Wearily.] Oh, yes.
OHANO. Even from up here we could see its jewels flash.
NIJO. [Without interest.] Yes, it is cunningly conceived.
OHANO. How wonderful it must be. Perhaps—I may see it?
NIJO. [Still wearily.] If you so desire.
[Unbuckles sword and holds it before himself for her to examine. She leans over it admiringly, touching the jewels as she speaks of them.
[Unbuckles sword and holds it before himself for her to examine. She leans over it admiringly, touching the jewels as she speaks of them.
OHANO. Magnificent! Rubies and emeralds and sapphires! And here are moonstones and diamonds. How you must prize it.
NIJO. [Wearily.] Of course, one must.
OHANO. And the very people who tried to stop you from going across the sea to win your glory have given it to you.
NIJO. That is the way of the world.
OHANO. Show me the way to glory, Nijo.
NIJO. And why?
OHANO. I would travel it too.
NIJO. You—a simple island maiden?
OHANO. I'm not simple. I've grown beyond the people here.
NIJO. But there is glory in the work women must do at home.
OHANO. And I have done my share of it. I want bigger work now—out in the world.
NIJO. But the simple tasks must be done.
OHANO. I am sick unto death of doing them!
NIJO. But you can't go into the battles of the world. You are an island woman.
OHANO. This last war has made all women free. If the other island women cling to the everlasting tradition that woman should not go beyond her native hearth, let them cling. I shallreach the summit of things and know the glory of doing big things in the world!
NIJO. But you—sheltered, protected all your life—how can you do it?
OHANO. That's what troubles me. But you were fettered by this island life and you broke through the bars of convention. How didyoudo it?
NIJO. [Sadly.] Ohano, I would not spoil your life by telling you.
OHANO. Spoil it? What do you think is happening to it now? Oh, Nijo, can't you understand I'm stagnating—dyingin this commonplace island life.
NIJO. I thought that about myself, too, when I started my climb to glory; but scarcely a moon had passed before I realized the loneliness of great heights.
OHANO. [Tigerishly.] Are you trying to turn me from my wish—to have all the island's glory for yourself?
NIJO. No, but only the valley people enjoy the sublimity of a mountain.
OHANO. [Scornfully.] Ha!
NIJO. Those who reach the top have lost their perspective. All they see are the lonely tops of other mountains.
OHANO. [Sublimely.] But they've had the joy of the climb!
NIJO. And worth what—no more than the mist of the sea.
OHANO. Do you think that satisfies me? I want to find out for myself! I only want you to tell me the way to use this spirit that boils within my blood, thirsts for action!
NIJO. That I never will.
OHANO. Oh, what shall I do? I've even implored the sun and the moon! [Looks toward sea.] Now Imustlisten to my dreams—my dreams that cry and cry: "Look in the gazing globe! Look in the gazing globe! It will show you the way!" And if it ever does, I'll take that pathno matter where it leads.
NIJO. My journey only made me want to come back to thehaven of your love, Ohano. The amber cup of glory left me athirst to be wrapped in the mantle of your boundless love and warmed with the glow of your heart.
OHANO. [Surprised.] Your journey has really led you back to me?
NIJO. [Sadly.] You're my only hope. I've been as mad for you as the sea for the moonlight.
OHANO. [Disturbed.] But you had fire and impulse when you went away; and now—well, you do still yearn for me?
NIJO. [Quietly, without passion.] The hope for your love has been the light of my brain, changing from life to dream, from earth to star.
OHANO. My thirst for glory has been that way; but Zama tells me it is as nothing in the kiss of love. If love has that power, I am willing to forget all else. Kiss me, Nijo!
NIJO. At last my lips will press yours, as the sun flames to an immortal moment when it meets the sky.
[Kneeling opposite each other, their lips meet.Ohanoinstantly gives a piercing scream and recoils from him.Nijosinks into a heap.
[Kneeling opposite each other, their lips meet.Ohanoinstantly gives a piercing scream and recoils from him.Nijosinks into a heap.
OHANO. [Rising and turning toward the sea, weeping.] Oh, oh, oh!
ZAMA. [Rushing in from right.] What is it? What is it, Ohano?
OHANO. [Still weeping.] Oh—ooh.
ZAMA. What do it be, my little Ohano?
OHANO. [Turning.] His kiss—Nijo's kiss!
ZAMA. Yes?
OHANO. Cold as white marble—cold!
ZAMA. Cold as white marble?
OHANO. Oh, Nijo, why do you kiss me like a thing of stone?
NIJO. [As he looks up, pitifully.] Into that kiss I tried to put all the love I've thought these many years.
OHANO. The love you'vethought?
NIJO. [Despondently.] Yes, I've only thought it—thoughtit!
OHANO. But your heart——?
NIJO. [Rising.] My heart feels no more! Only my head thinks.
ZAMA. You love no more?
NIJO. Only with my head, it seems. I see things, know things, understand things; but I no longer feel anything. And my thirst for glory has done it all—killed my love of life and turned my very kiss to stone. Oh, glory, why do men give the essence of their lives to you—you who last no longer than the glow of gold above the place of sunset!
OHANO. [Superbly.] Because glory gives you the world—everything!
NIJO. It takes everything away—strips you—and leaves you nothing to believe. Oh, I could have become a common soldier here, marching shoulder to shoulder with the island men going out to war—but no—I must be a great warrior, a hero in position. Had I known then what I know now, how gladly would I have gone as one of the thousands who are known as—just soldiers. They are the ones who know the throb of life and love!
OHANO. You bring back such a message to me? You who have climbed and climbed to heights till I have believed you to be as constant in your quest as the light that shines upon the gazing globe?
NIJO. I—a light?
OHANO. Why not? I've always likened your feet unto the disks of two luminaries, lighting the way for all the world to follow. [Looks at gazing globe, which is now a ball of gold against the black sea and sky.] And now you tell me I was wrong. Perhaps the light upon the gazing globe itself is the only one to follow.
NIJO. I—a light? Why, Ohano, if I'm anything, I'm a gazing globe!
OHANO. What do you mean—you a gazing globe?
NIJO. That without I'm all fair, all wonderful—but within I'm empty as a gazing globe.
OHANO. [Scornfully.] But a gazing globe shows men the way to their heart's desire.
NIJO. It reflects to men what they see into it. So does glory.
OHANO. I can't believe that—now.
NIJO. Behold what it has done to me! Already as a child I gazed at that globe, longing to grasp the glory of which it was a symbol. It filled me with a red madness, surged with an unbearable music, giving me a riotous pain! Oh, it made me drunk for the wine of glory!
OHANO. I know! I know! Now you talk as the man I thought you were.
NIJO. I'm not a man. I'm dead.
OHANO. But you have known the glory of life. Shall I never know the way to it? [Appealingly, to the globe.] The way—the way is what I seek!
ZAMA. Look not so upon the evil ball, child. It do be enchanted for one thousand years! [Ohanomoves nearer the globe.] Go not so near, child! Evil will fall—and you will be enslaved!
OHANO. What care I, if it shows me the way?
[Hands outstretched to the globe.
ZAMA. [Appealingly toNijo.] Sir, I pray you do be stopping her. She do be always gazing at that golden ball; and slowly it do be drawing her within its enchanted grasp. And it do be an enchanted ball!
NIJO. Perhaps there's more to its enchantment than I thought. It claimed me for a victim—and now it's freezing her life's warmth to the falseness of Orient pearl.
OHANO. [Murmuring to the globe.] The way—the way! I must have the way!
NIJO. [Swiftly drawing his sword.] I will not show you—but I'll save you!
[Starts toward the gazing globe.
ZAMA. [Barring his path.] Nijo, sir, what do you be doing?
NIJO. [With a flourish of his sword.] I kill the thing that freezes another heart!
ZAMA. That do mean ruin! It be an enchanted ball!
NIJO. [Brushing pastZama.] It will enchant no longer!!
OHANO. No! No, Nijo!
NIJO. [Running up pedestal steps.] Yes!!
[With a mighty blow he strikes the gazing globe with his sword. Frightened,Ohanoshrinks to one side, facing right, as a thunder-like crash follows the blow, and pieces of the globe tumble to the ground—all but one piece that remains upon the pedestal. Then from a moon off stage right shines a straight golden path across the sea to the bit of gazing globe on the pedestal.
[With a mighty blow he strikes the gazing globe with his sword. Frightened,Ohanoshrinks to one side, facing right, as a thunder-like crash follows the blow, and pieces of the globe tumble to the ground—all but one piece that remains upon the pedestal. Then from a moon off stage right shines a straight golden path across the sea to the bit of gazing globe on the pedestal.
OHANO. [Triumphantly.] The moon—The way! At last the way! From the gazing globe—the golden path to the moon of glory. Now I am free!
[Rushes wildly down the moonlight path to the sea.
[Rushes wildly down the moonlight path to the sea.
ZAMA. Stop her!
NIJO. No, it is better to let her go.
ZAMA. But the path do lead into the sea. It is death! Stop her!!
[Starts forward.
NIJO. [RestrainingZama.] No! In death her soul has found the only way!
CURTAIN
The Booris reprinted by special permission of Barrett H. Clark and of Samuel French, publisher, New York City. All rights reserved. For permission to perform, address Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City.
The Booris reprinted by special permission of Barrett H. Clark and of Samuel French, publisher, New York City. All rights reserved. For permission to perform, address Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City.
ANTON TCHEKOV
Anton Tchekov, considered the foremost of contemporary Russian dramatists, was born in 1860 at Taganrog, Russia. In 1880 he was graduated from the Medical School of the University of Moscow. Ill health soon compelled him to abandon his practice of medicine, and in 1887 he sought the south. In 1904, the year of the successful appearance of hisCherry Orchard, he died in a village of the Black Forest in Germany.
As a dramatist, Tchekov has with deliberate intent cast off much of the conventionalities of dramatic technic. In his longer plays especially, likeThe Sea Gull,Uncle Vanya, andCherry Orchard, he somewhat avoids obvious struggles, time-worn commonplaces, well-prepared climaxes, and seeks rather to spread out a panoramic canvas for our contemplation. His chief aim is to show us humanity as he sees it. It is his interest in humanity that gives him so high rank as a dramatist.
His one-act plays, a form of drama unusually apt for certain intimate aspects of Russian peasant life, are more regular in their technic than his longer plays. Among the five or six shorter plays that Tchekov wrote,The BoorandA Marriage Proposalare his best. In these plays he shows the lighter side of Russian country life, infusing some of the spirit of the great Gogol into his broad and somewhat farcical character portrayals. With rare good grace, in these plays he appears to be asking us to throw aside our restraint and laugh with him at the stupidity and naïveté, as well as good-heartedness, of the Russian people he knew so well.
The Booris a remarkably well-constructed one-act play, and is probably the finest one-act play of the Russian school of drama.
TIME:The present.
SCENE:A well-furnished reception-room inMrs. Popov'shome.Mrs. Popovis discovered in deep mourning, sitting upon a sofa, gazing steadfastly at a photograph.Lukais also present.
LUKA. It isn't right, ma'am. You're wearing yourself out! The maid and the cook have gone looking for berries; everything that breathes is enjoying life; even the cat knows how to be happy—slips about the courtyard and catches birds—but you hide yourself here in the house as though you were in a cloister. Yes, truly, by actual reckoning you haven't left this house for a whole year.
MRS. POPOV. And I shall never leave it—why should I? My life is over. He lies in his grave, and I have buried myself within these four walls. We are both dead.
LUKA. There you are again! It's too awful to listen to, so it is! Nikolai Michailovitch is dead; it was the will of the Lord, and the Lord has given him eternal peace. You have grieved over it and that ought to be enough. Now it's time to stop. One can't weep and wear mourning forever! My wife died a few years ago. I grieved for her. I wept a whole month—and then it was over. Must one be forever singing lamentations? That would be more than your husband was worth! [He sighs.] You have forgotten all your neighbors. You don't go out and you receive no one. We live—you'll pardon me—like the spiders, and the good light of day we never see. All the livery is eaten by the mice—as though there weren't any more nice people in the world! But the whole neighborhood is full ofgentlefolk. The regiment is stationed in Riblov—officers—simply beautiful! One can't see enough of them! Every Friday a ball, and military music every day. Oh, my dear, dear ma'am, young and pretty as you are, if you'd only let your spirits live—! Beauty can't last forever. When ten short years are over, you'll be glad enough to go out a bit and meet the officers—and then it'll be too late.
MRS. POPOV. [Resolutely.] Please don't speak of these things again. You know very well that since the death of Nikolai Michailovitch my life is absolutely nothing to me. You think I live, but it only seems so. Do you understand? Oh, that his departed soul may see how I love him! I know, it's no secret to you; he was often unjust toward me, cruel, and—he wasn't faithful, but I shall be faithful to the grave and prove to him howIcan love. There, in the Beyond, he'll find me the same as I was until his death.
LUKA. What is the use of all these words, when you'd so much rather go walking in the garden or order Tobby or Welikan harnessed to the trap, and visit the neighbors?
MRS. POPOV. [Weeping.] Oh!
LUKA. Madam, dear madam, what is it? In Heaven's name!
MRS. POPOV. He loved Tobby so! He always drove him to the Kortschagins or the Vlassovs. What a wonderful horse-man he was! How fine he looked when he pulled at the reins with all his might! Tobby, Tobby—give him an extra measure of oats to-day!
LUKA. Yes, ma'am.
[A bell rings loudly.
[A bell rings loudly.
MRS. POPOV. [Shudders.] What's that? I am at home to no one.
LUKA. Yes, ma'am. [He goes out, centre.
MRS. POPOV. [Gazing at the photograph.] You shall see, Nikolai, how I can love and forgive! My love will die only with me—when my poor heart stops beating. [She smiles through her tears.] And aren't you ashamed? I have been a good, true wife; I have imprisoned myself and I shall remain true until death, and you—you—you're not ashamed of yourself, my dear monster! You quarrelled with me, left me alone for weeks——
[Lukaenters in great excitement.
[Lukaenters in great excitement.
LUKA. Oh, ma'am, some one is asking for you, insists on seeing you——
MRS. POPOV. You told him that since my husband's death I receive no one?
LUKA. I said so, but he won't listen; he says it is a pressing matter.
MRS. POPOV. I receive no one!
LUKA. I told him that, but he's a wild man; he swore and pushed himself into the room; he's in the dining-room now.
MRS. POPOV. [Excitedly.] Good. Show him in. The impudent——!
[Lukagoes out, centre.
[Lukagoes out, centre.
MRS. POPOV. What a bore people are! What can they want with me? Why do they disturb my peace? [She sighs.] Yes, it is clear I must enter a convent. [Meditatively.] Yes, a convent.
[Smirnoventers, followed byLuka.
[Smirnoventers, followed byLuka.
SMIRNOV. [ToLuka.] Fool, you make too much noise! You're an ass! [DiscoveringMrs. Popov—politely.] Madam, I have the honor to introduce myself: Lieutenant in the Artillery, retired, country gentleman, Grigori Stepanovitch Smirnov! I'm compelled to bother you about an exceedingly important matter.
MRS. POPOV. [Without offering her hand.] What is it you wish?
SMIRNOV. Your deceased husband, with whom I had the honor to be acquainted, left me two notes amounting to about twelve hundred roubles. Inasmuch as I have to pay the interestto-morrow on a loan from the Agrarian Bank, I should like to request, madam, that you pay me the money to-day.
MRS. POPOV. Twelve hundred—and for what was my husband indebted to you?
SMIRNOV. He bought oats from me.
MRS. POPOV. [With a sigh, toLuka.] Don't forget to give Tobby an extra measure of oats.
[Lukagoes out.
[Lukagoes out.
MRS. POPOV. [ToSmirnov.] If Nikolai Michailovitch is indebted to you, I shall, of course, pay you, but I am sorry, I haven't the money to-day. To-morrow my manager will return from the city and I shall notify him to pay you what is due you, but until then I cannot satisfy your request. Furthermore, to-day it is just seven months since the death of my husband, and I am not in a mood to discuss money matters.
SMIRNOV. And I am in the mood to fly up the chimney with my feet in the air if I can't lay hands on that interest to-morrow. They'll seize my estate!
MRS. POPOV. Day after to-morrow you will receive the money.
SMIRNOV. I don't need the money day after to-morrow; I need it to-day.
MRS. POPOV. I'm sorry I can't pay you to-day.
SMIRNOV. And I can't wait until day after to-morrow.
MRS. POPOV. But what can I do if I haven't it?
SMIRNOV. So you can't pay?
MRS. POPOV. I cannot.
SMIRNOV. Hm! Is that your last word?
MRS. POPOV. My last.
SMIRNOV. Absolutely?
MRS. POPOV. Absolutely.
SMIRNOV. Thank you. [He shrugs his shoulders.] And they expect me to stand for all that. The toll-gatherer just now met me in the road and asked me why I was always worrying.Why, in Heaven's name, shouldn't I worry? I need money, I feel the knife at my throat. Yesterday morning I left my house in the early dawn and called on all my debtors. If even one of them had paid his debt! I worked the skin off my fingers! The devil knows in what sort of Jew-inn I slept; in a room with a barrel of brandy! And now at last I come here, seventy versts from home, hope for a little money, and all you give me is moods! Why shouldn't I worry?
MRS. POPOV. I thought I made it plain to you that my manager will return from town, and then you will get your money.
SMIRNOV. I did not come to see the manager; I came to see you. What the devil—pardon the language—do I care for your manager?
MRS. POPOV. Really, sir, I am not used to such language or such manners. I shan't listen to you any further.
[She goes out, left.
SMIRNOV. What can one say to that? Moods! Seven months since her husband died! Do I have to pay the interest or not? I repeat the question, have I to pay the interest or not? The husband is dead and all that; the manager is—the devil with him!—travelling somewhere. Now, tell me, what am I to do? Shall I run away from my creditors in a balloon? Or knock my head against a stone wall? If I call on Grusdev he chooses to be "not at home," Iroschevitch has simply hidden himself, I have quarrelled with Kurzin and came near throwing him out of the window, Masutov is ill and this woman has—moods! Not one of them will pay up! And all because I've spoiled them, because I'm an old whiner, dish-rag! I'm too tender-hearted with them. But wait! I allow nobody to play tricks with me, the devil with 'em all! I'll stay here and not budge until she pays! Brr! How angry I am, how terribly angry I am! Every tendon is trembling with anger, and I can hardly breathe! I'm even growing ill! [He calls out.] Servant!
[Lukaenters.
[Lukaenters.
LUKA. What is it you wish?
SMIRNOV. Bring me Kvas or water! [Lukagoes out.] Well, what can we do? She hasn't it on hand? What sort of logic is that? A fellow stands with the knife at his throat, he needs money, he is on the point of hanging himself, and she won't pay because she isn't in the mood to discuss money matters. Woman's logic! That's why I never liked to talk to women, and why I dislike doing it now. I would rather sit on a powder barrel than talk with a woman. Brr!—I'm getting cold as ice; this affair has made me so angry. I need only to see such a romantic creature from a distance to get so angry that I have cramps in the calves! It's enough to make one yell for help!
[EnterLuka.
[EnterLuka.
LUKA. [Hands him water.] Madam is ill and is not receiving.
SMIRNOV. March! [Lukagoes out.] Ill and isn't receiving! All right, it isn't necessary. I won't receive, either! I'll sit here and stay until you bring that money. If you're ill a week, I'll sit here a week. If you're ill a year, I'll sit here a year. As Heaven is my witness, I'll get the money. You don't disturb me with your mourning—or with your dimples. We know these dimples! [He calls out the window.] Simon, unharness! We aren't going to leave right away. I am going to stay here. Tell them in the stable to give the horses some oats. The left horse has twisted the bridle again. [Imitating him.] Stop! I'll show you how. Stop! [Leaves window.] It's awful. Unbearable heat, no money, didn't sleep last night and now—mourning-dresses with moods. My head aches; perhaps I ought to have a drink. Ye-s, I must have a drink. [Calling.] Servant!
LUKA. What do you wish?
SMIRNOV. Something to drink! [Lukagoes out.Smirnovsits down and looks at his clothes.] Ugh, a fine figure! No use denying that. Dust, dirty boots, unwashed, uncombed, straw on my vest—the lady probably took me for a highwayman. [He yawns.] It was a little impolite to come into a reception-roomwith such clothes. Oh, well, no harm done. I'm not here as a guest. I'm a creditor. And there is no special costume for creditors.
LUKA. [Entering with glass.] You take great liberty, sir.
SMIRNOV. [Angrily.] What?
LUKA. I—I—I just——
SMIRNOV. Whom are you talking to? Keep quiet.
LUKA. [Angrily.] Nice mess! This fellow won't leave!
[He goes out.
SMIRNOV. Lord, how angry I am! Angry enough to throw mud at the whole world! I even feel ill! Servant!
[Mrs. Popovcomes in with downcast eyes.
[Mrs. Popovcomes in with downcast eyes.
MRS. POPOV. Sir, in my solitude I have become unaccustomed to the human voice and I cannot stand the sound of loud talking. I beg you, please to cease disturbing my rest.
SMIRNOV. Pay me my money and I'll leave.
MRS. POPOV. I told you once, plainly, in your native tongue, that I haven't the money at hand; wait until day after to-morrow.
SMIRNOV. And I also had the honor of informing you in your native tongue that I need the money, not day after to-morrow, but to-day. If you don't pay me to-day I shall have to hang myself to-morrow.
MRS. POPOV. But what can I do if I haven't the money?
SMIRNOV. So you are not going to pay immediately? You're not?
MRS. POPOV. I cannot.
SMIRNOV. Then I'll sit here until I get the money. [He sits down.] You will pay day after to-morrow? Excellent! Here I stay until day after to-morrow. [Jumps up.] I ask you, do I have to pay that interest to-morrow or not? Or do you think I'm joking?
MRS. POPOV. Sir, I beg of you, don't scream! This is not a stable.
SMIRNOV. I'm not talking about stables, I'm asking you whether I have to pay that interest to-morrow or not?
MRS. POPOV. You have no idea how to treat a lady.
SMIRNOV. Oh, yes, I have.
MRS. POPOV. No, you have not. You are an ill-bred, vulgar person! Respectable people don't speak so to ladies.
SMIRNOV. How remarkable! How do you want one to speak to you? In French, perhaps! Madame, je vous prie! Pardon me for having disturbed you. What beautiful weather we are having to-day! And how this mourning becomes you!
[He makes a low bow with mock ceremony.
MRS. POPOV. Not at all funny! I think it vulgar!
SMIRNOV. [Imitating her.] Not at all funny—vulgar! I don't understand how to behave in the company of ladies. Madam, in the course of my life I have seen more women than you have sparrows. Three times have I fought duels for women, twelve I jilted and nine jilted me. There was a time when I played the fool, used honeyed language, bowed and scraped. I loved, suffered, sighed to the moon, melted in love's torments. I loved passionately, I loved to madness, loved in every key, chattered like a magpie on emancipation, sacrificed half my fortune in the tender passion, until now the devil knows I've had enough of it. Your obedient servant will let you lead him around by the nose no more. Enough! Black eyes, passionate eyes, coral lips, dimples in cheeks, moonlight whispers, soft, modest sighs—for all that, madam, I wouldn't pay a kopeck! I am not speaking of present company, but of women in general; from the tiniest to the greatest, they are conceited, hypocritical, chattering, odious, deceitful from top to toe; vain, petty, cruel with a maddening logic and [he strikes his forehead] in this respect, please excuse my frankness, but one sparrow is worth ten of the aforementioned petticoat-philosophers. When one sees one of the romantic creatures before him he imagines he is looking at some holy being, so wonderful that its one breath could dissolvehim in a sea of a thousand charms and delights; but if one looks into the soul—it's nothing but a common crocodile. [He seizes the arm-chair and breaks it in two.] But the worst of all is that this crocodile imagines it is a masterpiece of creation, and that it has a monopoly on all the tender passions. May the devil hang me upside down if there is anything to love about a woman! When she is in love, all she knows is how to complain and shed tears. If the man suffers and makes sacrifices she swings her train about and tries to lead him by the nose. You have the misfortune to be a woman, and naturally you know woman's nature; tell me on your honor, have you ever in your life seen a woman who was really true and faithful? Never! Only the old and the deformed are true and faithful. It's easier to find a cat with horns or a white woodcock, than a faithful woman.
MRS. POPOV. But allow me to ask, who is true and faithful in love? The man, perhaps?
SMIRNOV. Yes, indeed! The man!
MRS. POPOV. The man! [She laughs sarcastically.] The man true and faithful in love! Well, that is somethingnew! [Bitterly.] How can you make such a statement? Men true and faithful! So long as we have gone thus far, I may as well say that of all the men I have known, my husband was the best; I loved him passionately with all my soul, as only a young, sensible woman may love; I gave him my youth, my happiness, my fortune, my life. I worshipped him like a heathen. And what happened? This best of men betrayed me in every possible way. After his death I found his desk filled with love-letters. While he was alive he left me alone for months—it is horrible even to think about it—he made love to other women in my very presence, he wasted my money and made fun of my feelings—and in spite of everything I trusted him and was true to him. And more than that: he is dead and I am still true to him. I have buried myself within these four walls and I shall wear this mourning to my grave.
SMIRNOV. [Laughing disrespectfully.] Mourning! What on earth do you take me for? As if I didn't know why you wore this black domino and why you buried yourself within these four walls. Such a secret! So romantic! Some knight will pass the castle, gaze up at the windows, and think to himself: "Here dwells the mysterious Tamara who, for love of her husband, has buried herself within four walls." Oh, I understand the art!
MRS. POPOV. [Springing up.] What? What do you mean by saying such things to me?
SMIRNOV. You have buried yourself alive, but meanwhile you have not forgotten to powder your nose!
MRS. POPOV. How dare you speak so?
SMIRNOV. Don't scream at me, please; I'm not the manager. Allow me to call things by their right names. I am not a woman, and I am accustomed to speak out what I think. So please don't scream.
MRS. POPOV. I'm not screaming. It is you who are screaming. Please leave me, I beg of you.
SMIRNOV. Pay me my money and I'll leave.
MRS. POPOV. I won't give you the money.
SMIRNOV. You won't? You won't give me my money?
MRS. POPOV. I don't care what you do. You won't get a kopeck! Leave me!
SMIRNOV. As I haven't the pleasure of being either your husband or your fiancé, please don't make a scene. [He sits down.] I can't stand it.
MRS. POPOV. [Breathing hard.] You are going to sit down?
SMIRNOV. I already have.
MRS. POPOV. Kindly leave the house!
SMIRNOV. Give me the money.
MRS. POPOV. I don't care to speak with impudent men. Leave! [Pause.] You aren't going?
SMIRNOV. No.
MRS. POPOV. No?
SMIRNOV. No.
MRS. POPOV. Very well.
[She rings the bell.