MARRIAGE.

AN UTTERLY INCREDIBLE INCIDENT.IN TWO ACTS.

AN UTTERLY INCREDIBLE INCIDENT.

IN TWO ACTS.

(A bachelor’s apartment.Podkolyòssin,alone, lying on the sofa smoking a pipe.)

Pod.Really when a man’s alone, and thinks about it at his leisure, it does seem after all as if one ought to get married. Indeed, if you think of it, here one goes on, living and living; and one ends by getting quite disgustedwith everything. There, I’ve let the time slip by once more; and it’s holy season[1]again. It’s too bad! Everything’s ready, and the matchmaker’s been coming for the last three months. It makes me feel quite ashamed. Hi! Stepàn! (EnterStepàn.) Hasn’t the matchmaker come?

Step.No, your honour.

Pod.Have you been to the tailor?

Step.Yes.

Pod.Is he making the dress-coat?

Step.Yes, sir.

Pod.How far has he got on with it?

Step.He is making the button-holes.

Pod.What do you say?

Step.I said he’s begun to make the button-holes.

Pod.And didn’t he ask you what your master wants with a dress-coat?

Step.No, sir; he didn’t.

Pod.Perhaps he asked you whether your master wasn’t going to get married?

Step.No; he didn’t say anything about it.

Pod.Did you see any other dress-coats in the workshop? I suppose he makes for other people too?

Step.Yes; there were a lot of coats hanging up.

Pod.But I’ll be bound the cloth of them isn’t as good as mine!

Step.No, sir; the stuff of yours looks nicer.

Pod.What do you say?

Step.I say the stuff of yours is nicer, sir.

Pod.That’s all right. Well, and didn’t the tailor ask why your master wants a dress-coat of such fine cloth?

Step.No.

Pod.Didn’t he say anything about whether your master thought of getting married?

Step.No; he didn’t talk about it at all.

Pod.But I suppose you told him what my position is, and where I serve?

Step.Yes, sir.

Pod.What did he say to that?

Step.He said, “I’ll do my best.”

Pod.That’s all right. Now you may go. (ExitStepàn.) I am inclined to think that a black dress-coat is the most decorous. Coloured coats are all very well for secretaries, and clerks, and all that small fry—they look just fit for milksops. People higher up in the service ought to observe what is called a—a—a—a——There! I’ve forgotten the word! It’s a fine word; and I’ve forgotten it! It’s all very well to put on airs, little father, but an aulic counsellor takes the rank of colonel too; the only difference is that he has a uniform without epaulettes. Hi! Stepàn! (EnterStepàn.) Did you buy the blacking?

Step.Yes, sir.

Pod.Where did you buy it? In the shop I told you about, on the Voznesènsky Prospect?

Step.Yes, that was the shop.

Pod.And is it good?

Step.Very good.

Pod.Did you try it on the boots?

Step.Yes, sir.

Pod.And does it shine?

Step.It takes a beautiful shine, sir.

Pod.And when you bought it, didn’t the man ask you what your master wants with such good blacking?

Step.No.

Pod.Perhaps he asked you whether your master was going to be married?

Step.No; he didn’t say anything.

Pod.All right; you can go. (ExitStepàn.) One would think boots were a trifling thing; and yet if theyare badly made, or not properly blacked, no one will respect you in good society. It makes a great difference, somehow.... Another horrid thing is, if one has corns. I’d be ready to put up with almost anything rather than have corns. Hi! Stepàn! (EnterStepàn.)

Step.What’s your honour’s pleasure?

Pod.Did you tell the shoemaker that the boots musn’t give me corns?

Step.Yes, sir.

Pod.And what did he say?

Step.He said, “All right.” (Exit.)

Pod.The deuce take it all! It’s a difficult business, this getting married. What with one thing and another—first this has to be set right, and then that—the devil take it all! it’s not half so easy as people say. Hi! Stepàn! (EnterStepàn.) There’s another thing I wanted to say——

Step.The old woman’s come.

Pod.Ah! she’s come? Send her in. (ExitStepàn.) Yes; it’s a sort of thing—a sort of—a hard matter. (EnterFèkla.) Ah! good-morning, Fèkla Ivànovna! Well? What have you got to say? There’s a chair; sit down and tell me about it. I want to hear all about her. What’s her name? Melània——

Fèkla.Agàfia Tikhònovna.

Pod.Yes, yes, Agàfia Tikhònovna. I suppose she’s some old maid of forty?

Fèkla.Well, then, you’re just wrong. I can tell you, if you marry her, you’ll come to thank me and praise her up every day of your life.

Pod.I suppose that’s a lie, Fèkla Ivànovna?

Fèkla.I’m old to tell lies, little father; lying’s a dog’s work.

Pod.But the dowry? What about the dowry?

Fèkla.The dowry? Well, there’s a stone house in theMoscow borough,[2]two-storied; it brings in such a profit that it’s a pleasure to think of: one corndealer pays seven hundred for his shop; then there are wine-vaults that attract plenty of customers; two wooden wings, one entirely wooden and the other with a stone basement: they bring in an income of four hundred roubles each. Well then, there’s a market-garden on the Vỳborgskaya[3]side. The year before last a merchant took it for cabbage-farming; and such a good sober fellow—never touches a drop of drink—and he’s got three sons; he has married two of them, “but the third,” says he, “is too young; he can stay in the shop and see after the business. I’m getting old,” says he, “so it’s time for my son to stay in the shop and see that the business goes on all right.”

Pod.Well, but tell me what she’s like to look at.

Fèkla.Like sugar-candy! Pink and white, like roses and cream.... Sweeter than honey; sweeter than I can say! I tell you, you’ll be over head and ears in love with her; you’ll go about to all your friends and enemies and say, “I’ve got something to thank Fèkla Ivànovna for.”

Pod.Well, I don’t know; she’s not a staff-officer’s daughter.

Fèkla.No; but she belongs to the third guild. And then she’s one that even a general needn’t be ashamed of. Why, she won’t even hear of a merchant. “I don’t care,” says she, “what my husband’s like; I don’t even care if he’s ugly, but he must be a noble.” There’s a real lady for you! And you should just see her on Sundays, when she puts on a silk dress. Dear Lord! How it rustles! Like any princess.

Pod.Well, you see, that’s why I asked you, because I’m an aulic counsellor; and so—you understand....

Fèkla.Of course I understand. There was an aulic counsellor that tried for her already, but she refused him; she didn’t like him. But then he had such a strange way with him; he was all right to look at, but he couldn’t speak a word without telling lies. It wasn’t his fault, poor fellow; the Lord made him so. He was sorry enough himself about it, but he just couldn’t help lying; it was God’s will, that’s clear.

Pod.And is she the only girl you’ve got on hand?

Fèkla.Why, what do you want with another? She’s the best you could possibly have.

Pod.You don’t really mean that?

Fèkla.If you look all over the world, you won’t find another like her.

Pod.Well, little mother, we’ll think it over, we’ll think it over. You’d better come again to-morrow. I’ll tell you what: you come again, and we’ll have a comfortable time; I’ll lie on the sofa, and you shall tell me about her.

Fèkla.Come, little father, that’s too much of a good thing! I’ve been at your beck and call for more than two months, and nothing’s come of it yet; all you ever do is to sit in your dressing-gown and smoke a pipe.

Pod.I suppose you think to get married is no more than to say “Hi! Stepàn, bring my boots!” and just put them on, and go out. No, no! one must think it over, and look about one.

Fèkla.Oh! there’s no harm in that. If you want to look, who minds your looking? The goods are in the market to be looked at. Call for your coat, and go off now, without wasting the morning!

Pod.Now? Why just look how dull the weather is. If I go out, I may get caught in the rain.

Fèkla.Dear me! What a misfortune! Why, littlefather, the grey hairs are coming on your head already. If you wait much longer, you won’t be a marriageable man at all. A fine prize! An aulic counsellor! I can tell you, we can get hold of such grand suitors, that we shan’t care to look at you!

Pod.What rubbish are you talking? What’s put it into your head all of a sudden that I’ve got a grey hair? Where’s a grey hair? (Feels his hair.)

Fèkla.Why shouldn’t you have grey hairs? Most people do, when they live long enough. Take care, though; you won’t have this girl, and you don’t like that girl—but I can tell you, I’ve got a captain in my eye that’s a head and shoulders taller than you, and he talks just like a brass trumpet. He serves in the ammaralty....

Pod.It’s not true! I’ll look in the glass: you’re only pretending there are grey hairs! Hi! Stepàn! Bring the looking-glass!... No! wait—I’ll go myself. What next? Heaven defend us! that’s worse than small-pox! (Exit into adjoining room. EnterKochkaryòv,running.)

Koch.Where’s Podkolyòssin? (SeeingFèkla.)Youhere! Ah! you!... Look here! What the devil did you marry me for?

Fèkla.What’s the harm? It’s right and lawful.

Koch.Right and lawful! What do you suppose a man wants with a wife? Did you suppose I couldn’t get on without one?

Fèkla.Why, it was you yourself that wouldn’t let me alone. It was always “Granny, find me a wife!”

Koch.Yah!... You old rat!... And what are you here for, I should like to know! You don’t mean to say Podkolyòssin wants to get married?

Fèkla.And why not? God has blessed him.

Koch.No! really? What a rascal! he never told me a word about it! Now what do you think of that, if you please? Isn’t he a sly rogue? (EnterPodkolyòssin,holding a mirror, and gazing into it intently.Kochkaryòvslips up behind, and startles him.)

Koch.Booh!

Pod.(cries out, and drops the mirror). Ah! you crazy fellow! Now what is the use of doing that? Now what a silly thing to do! You just brought my heart into my mouth!

Koch.There, I was only joking!

Pod.Fine sort of joke! I can’t get my breath yet; and there, you’ve smashed the looking-glass! And it was an expensive one—I got it in the English shop.

Koch.There, never mind! I’ll buy you another looking-glass.

Pod.Yes, I dare say! I know what those other looking-glasses are like! One’s face comes out crooked, and they make one look ten years older.

Koch.Look here! it’s I that ought to be angry with you, not you with me. You hide everything from me, your friend. You think of marrying?

Pod.What nonsense! I never thought of such a thing.

Koch.My friend, you’re caught in the act! (Points toFèkla.) There she stands; everybody knows what sort of birdsheis. Ah, well! never mind; there’s nothing to be ashamed of; it’s a good Christian action—indeed, it’s necessary for the good of the State. I don’t mind; I’ll take the whole responsibility of it. (ToFèkla.) Well, tell me who she is, and all about her. What class does she belong to?—noble, official, merchant? And what’s her name?

Fèkla.Agàfia Tikhònovna.

Koch.Agàfia Tikhònovna Brandakhlỳstova?

Fèkla.No, no! Kouperdyàgina.

Koch.Ah! she lives in the Shestilàvochna, doesn’t she?

Fèkla.No, she doesn’t, then! She lives near Peskì, in the Mỳlny Row.

Koch.Oh, yes; in the Mỳlny Row; a wooden house, next door to a shop, isn’t it?

Fèkla.No, it isn’t. It’s beyond the wine-vaults.

Koch.Beyond the wine-vaults! Then I don’t remember.

Fèkla.Well, when you turn into the Row, you see a stall; and you pass the stall and turn to the left; and there, straight in front of you, just right before your eyes, there’s a wooden house, where a dressmaker lives; you don’t go into the dressmaker’s, you go on to the next house but one; it’s a stone house, and that’s where she lives—Agàfia Tikhònovna.

Koch.All right, all right! now I can manage it all. You can go now; we don’t want you any more.

Fèkla.What’s that? Do you mean to say that you mean to settle a wedding yourself?

Koch.Yes, yes, myself—only don’t you interfere.

Fèkla.Oh, for shame! for shame! That’s not a man’s business! Little father, keep out of it.

Koch.Be off! be off! you don’t understand anything about it; don’t interfere; mind your own business, and get along with you!

Fèkla.All you care for is to take the bread out of people’s mouths;—you’re no better than an infidel! A man! and to mix up in things like that! If I’d known, I wouldn’t have told you a word. (Exit sulkily.)

Koch.Now, my lad, this business musn’t be put off—put on your hat and come along.

Pod.Well, but I—I—I haven’t decided—I was only thinking——

Koch.Fiddle-de-dee! Only don’t be bashful: I’ll get you married as finely as you like. We’ll go straight off to the lady now, and you’ll see how fast we’ll get it all settled.

Pod.What, go off now! What next will you want?

Koch.Bless my soul, man, what would you have? Now, just think yourself what comes of not being married. Look at the condition of your room—there’s a muddy boot—there’s a washing basin—there’s a heap of tobacco on the table; and here you lie on your side, the whole day long, like a regular stick-in-the-mud.

Pod.It’s quite true; I know myself everything’s in a muddle in this house.

Koch.Well now, when you have a wife everything’ll be so different that you’ll hardly know yourself. Here there’ll be a sofa, there a lap-dog, then a birdcage, and fancy-work lying about.... And just imagine—you sit on the sofa, and suddenly a little woman comes and sits down beside you, a pretty little girl ... and puts up a little hand——

Pod.Ah! the devil take it! when one thinks of it, what beautiful hands there are—just as white as milk!

Koch.How you talk! Anybody would think women had got nothing but hands!... My lad, they’ve got——in fact the deuce knows what they haven’t got!

Pod.Do you know—I confess it to you—Idolike to have a pretty woman sit beside me.

Koch.There now! there you see! Then all that’s wanted is to make the arrangements. You needn’t take any trouble about that, though; I’ll manage the wedding and the dinner, and all that.... You can’t possibly do with less than a dozen of champagne—that there’s no question about. We must have half a dozen of Madeira too; I expect the lady’s got a whole tribe of aunts and cousins and all the rest of it, and they won’t want to be done out of their share. Then there’s the Rhine-wine—what the devil do you call it, eh? And as for the dinner, I’ll tell you what, old chap: there’s a butler I know of that’ll settle it all for us; the dog will give you such a feed as you never saw in your life.

PODKOLYÒSSIN: “DO YOU KNOW—I CONFESS IT TO YOU—IDOLIKE TO HAVE A PRETTY WOMAN BESIDE ME.”KOCHKARYÒV: “THERE NOW! THERE YOU SEE! THEN ALL THAT’S WANTED IS TO MAKE THE ARRANGEMENTS.”

Pod.But my dear fellow! you set about the business as if I were going to be married at once!

Koch.And why not? What’s the use of putting it off? You’ve decided?

Pod.Me? Oh, dear no! I haven’t decided at all!

Koch.Well I never did! But you just said you wanted to marry.

Pod.I only said it wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Koch.Well now, really! And we were just settling up everything.... What’s come to you? Don’t you like the idea of a married life?

Pod.Oh, yes, I like it.

Koch.Well then, what’s it all about? Where’s the difficulty?

Pod.There isn’t any difficulty; only it seems so strange....

Koch.What’s there strange about it?

Pod.Of course it’s strange. One’s always been a bachelor, and now to be a married man——

Koch.Tut, tut, tut! I wonder you’re not ashamed of yourself. No, my friend, I see I must talk to you seriously. I’ll be quite frank with you, like a father with a son. Now just look at yourself—look at yourself attentively and seriously, just as you’re looking at me now—what do you think of yourself? What are you like? You’re no better than a log; you’re a mere cypher. Tell me what you live for? Now just look in the glass and tell me what you see—nothing but a very stupid face. Well now, suppose that you’ve got children round you, not just two or three—you know, but a whole half-dozen—and every one as like you as two peas. Here you are alone, an aulic counsellor, or a head of a department, or director of some kind—what do you call yourself? But now just suppose yourself surrounded with little directorkins, and tiny rascals and small fry generally; and there they hold out their chubby littlefists and tug at your whiskers; and you’ll play doggie with them: Bow—wow—wow! Now, can you imagine anything more delightful?

Pod.Ye-e-s, only you know they are such mischievous little monkeys; they’ll spoil everything, and pull all my papers about.

Koch.Oh! that doesn’t matter! But just think; they’ll all be like you—that’s the beauty of it.

Pod.After all, it really is a deucedly funny notion—a little white puff-ball of a thing—no bigger than a puppy-dog—and yet it’s like you!

Koch.Of course it’s funny, tremendously funny; there, make haste and come along!

Pod.All right; I don’t mind.

Koch.Hi! Stepàn! Come and help your master dress.

(EnterStepàn.)

Pod.(dressing before the glass). I almost think, though, that I ought to put on a white waistcoat.

Koch.Oh, nonsense! What does it matter?

Pod.(putting on his collar). Confound that washerwoman! How badly she’s starched my collar! It won’t stand up a bit, Stepàn! You tell the stupid woman that if she’s going to do her work that way, I shall find another washerwoman. I expect she spends her time philandering with sweethearts instead of ironing clothes.

Koch.There! there! man, make haste! What a dawdle you are!

Pod.All right—all right! (Puts on coat, and sits down.) Look here, Ilia Fòmich, do you know what? I think you’d better go alone.

Koch.What next! The man’s gone daft!Igo? Why, which of us is going to get married—you or I?

Pod.The fact is, I don’t feel inclined for it to-day; let’s go to-morrow.

Koch.Now, have you got one single grain of sense? Now, are you anything in the world but a moon-calf? You get ready, and then, suddenly, don’t want to go! Now be so kind as to tell me, don’t you call yourself a pig and a camel after that?

Pod.Look here—what’s the use of bad language? I haven’t done you any harm.

Koch.You’re a booby, a perfect booby, any fellow will tell you that. I don’t care if youarean aulic counsellor—you’re nothing in the world but a fool. What do you suppose I’m taking all this trouble for? Only for your good. Don’t I see that you’ll let the prize slip through your fingers? And there you lie, you confounded old bachelor! Now just have the kindness to tell me, what do you call yourself? You’re a dummy, a milksop, a nincompoop, a—I’d tell you what you are if I could only find a civil word for it. You’re worse than any old woman!

Pod.Look here, that’s too much of a good thing. (Softly.) Are you gone off your head? There’s a serf in the room, and you let him hear you say bad words! Can’t you find another place to quarrel in?

Koch.I should like to know who could help quarrelling with you! Bad language! What else could anybody turn their tongue to? You begin by behaving reasonably, and arrange to get married, as any sensible man would; and then, all of a sudden, without why or wherefore, you must get a bee in your bonnet, and there’s no more sense in you than in a wooden post....

Pod.There, that’ll do! I’ll come; why, you needn’t fly at me like that!

Koch.Come? Of course you will—what else should you do? (ToStepàn.) Give him his hat and cloak.

Pod.(at the door). What a queer fellow it is! There’s no making him out at all. All of a sudden he sets to workand abuses you without rhyme or reason. Doesn’t understand how to speak to a fellow.

Koch.There! I’m not going to scold you now. (Exeunt.)

(A room inAgàfia Tikhònovna’shouse.Agàfia Tikhònovnaspreading cards for fortune-telling,Arìna Pantelèymovnalooking over her shoulder.)

Agàfia.Why, auntie! there’s a journey again! Some king of diamonds takes an interest in me; then there are tears, and a love-letter; on the left-hand side the king of clubs expresses great sympathy—but there’s a wicked woman that stands between.

Arìna.Whom do you think the king of clubs stands for?

Agàfia.I don’t know.

Arìna.I know who it is.

Agàfia.Who?

Arìna.A good, honest cloth merchant, my girl—Alexièy Dmìtrievich Starikòv.

Agàfia.That I know it isn’t; I’m positive it isn’t he.

Arìna.You can’t get out of it, Agàfia Tikhònovna; I can tell by the fair hair. There’s only one king of clubs, you see.

Agàfia.Then you’re just wrong; the king of clubs here means a nobleman—there’s a good deal of difference between a tradesman and a king of clubs.

Arìna.Ah! Agàfia Tikhònovna! you wouldn’t talk like that, my girl, if your poor papa, Tìkhon Pantlèymònovich, were alive. I remember how he used to bang his fist on the table and shout out—“I don’t care a rap for any man that’s ashamed to be a merchant; and I won’t give my daughter to an officer. Other people can do that if they’re fools enough! And my son shan’t be anofficer, neither,” says he; “isn’t a merchant as good a servant of the State as any one else?” And he’d bang his fist on the table again, and, my girl, hehadgot a fist of his own! Indeed, if the truth must be told, your poor mother would have lived longer if he hadn’t had such a heavy fist.

Agàfia.There you see! And you think I’d put up with such a brute of a husband? I won’t marry a merchant for anything in the world!

ARÌNA: “BUT WHERE ARE YOU GOING TO GET HOLD OF ANY NOBLE THAT’S WORTH HAVING?”

Arìna.But Alexièy Dmìtrievich isn’t one of that kind.

Agàfia.No, no! not for the world! He’s got a beard! And when he eats soup, it’ll all run down his beard. No, no, no! I won’t, I won’t!

Arìna.But where are you going to get hold of anynoble that’s worth having? You can’t go and pick him up in the street!

Agàfia.Fèkla Ivànovna will find me one; she promised to find me a splendid one.

Arìna.But, my precious one, she’s a liar.

(EnterFèkla.)

Fèkla.Oh no, Arìna Pantelèymovna; it’s a sin to give people a bad name for nothing.

Agàfia.Ah! Fèkla Ivànovna! Now then, tell me quick, have you found any one?

Fèkla.Yes, yes; only don’t hurry me. I’ve been tearing about so—let me get my breath! I’ve been all over everywhere on your business—at the Departments, at the Ministries, running all over the place.... Why, do you know, little mother, I nearly got beaten on your account—it’s true! That old woman that arranged the Afèrov’s marriage—you know—she just flew at me. “What are you after here?” says she, “taking the bread out of other people’s mouths. Keep to your own quarter!” says she. And I told her right out, “I’ll do anything for my young lady,” says I, “so you needn’t put yourself out about it.” However, I don’t mind the trouble; I’ve got you a fine set of suitors. I can tell you there never were such fine ones since the world began, and never will be. Some of them will come to-day—that’s why I ran in to tell you.

Agàfia.To-day! Oh, Fèkla Ivànovna, I’m afraid!

Fèkla.There’s nothing to be afraid of, little mother. It’s a thing that’s got to be. They’ll only come and take a look at you—nothing more. Then you can take a look at them, and if you don’t like them they can go away.

Arìna.I hope you are bringing good, respectable gentlemen?

Agàfia.And how many are there?

Fèkla.Let me see—there are six of them.

Agàfia(screams). Oh!

Fèkla.Dear heart, you needn’t jump like that! It’s best to have a choice; if you don’t like one you can take another.

Agàfia.Are they of noble birth?

Fèkla.Every one! The very noblest birth that ever was.

Agàfia.Well, what are they like?

Fèkla.Oh, regular good ones—nice and neat, all of them. First there’s Baltazàr Baltazàrovich Zhevàkin—a splendid gentleman—he used to serve in the fleet—he would just do nicely for you. He wants a wife with a nice plump figure—he hates bony women. Then there’s Ivàn Pàvlovich—he’s a Court usher, and such a grand gentleman, that one’s afraid to go near him. Big and stout, you know; just grand to look at. And you should have heard him shout at me—“I don’t want to hear any nonsense about what the girl’s like; just tell me plainly how much moveable and real estate she’s got.”—“So much and so much, little father.”—“That’s a lie, you old hag!” and, a—a—he said another word, little mother, that I don’t quite like to repeat. I saw in a minute that he must be areal grandgentleman!

Agàfia.Well, and who else is there?

Fèkla.Then there’s Nikanòr Ivànovich Anoùchkin—he’s a nice, fair, pretty gentleman; and oh! little mother, such sweet lips, like cherries! “All I want,” says he, “is that my bride should be pretty and refined; and that she should be able to talk French.” He’s a gentleman with a lot of breeding, and all sorts of fine Frenchified ways. Oh! he’s mighty particular! And he’s got such slim little legs.

Agàfia.N—n—no; somehow or other these overparticular people ... I don’t know ... I can’t see anything much in them

Fèkla.Well, if you want a more solid husband, you’d better take Ivàn Pàvlovich; you couldn’t make a better choice; he’s a gentleman ... what you may call arealgentleman; he could hardly get in at that door, he’s so big and grand.

Agàfia.And how old is he?

Fèkla.Oh! he’s a young man still—about fifty, or not quite fifty even.

Agàfia.And what’s his name?

Fèkla.Ivàn Pàvlovich Yaìchnitza.[4]

Agàfia.Do you mean to say that’s a name?

Fèkla.Of course it’s a name.

Agàfia.Goodness gracious! What a funny name! Why, Fèkloushka, supposing I were to marry him, I should have to be called Agàfia Tikhònovna Yaìchnitza—it sounds like I don’t know what!

Fèkla.Eh-h-h! little mother; there are such names in Russia, that all you can do when you hear them is to spit and cross yourself. But if you don’t like the name you may as well take Baltazàr Baltazàrovich Zhevàkin—he’d be a fine bridegroom.

Agàfia.What sort of hair has he got?

Fèkla.Very nice hair.

Agàfia.And his nose?

Fèkla.H-m-m ... his nose is all right; everything’s in its right place, and he’s a very nice gentleman. Only you musn’t mind one thing: there’s no furniture in his rooms, only a pipe and nothing else at all.

Agàfia.And who else is there?

Fèkla.Àkinf Stepánovich Pantelèyev—he’s an official, a titular counsellor.[5]He stutters a little; but then he’s such a very modest gentleman.

Arìna.You always keep on “official” and “official” you’d better tell us whether he doesn’t drink.

Fèkla.Yes, he does drink; I wouldn’t tell you a lie—he drinks. But then, you see, he’s a titular counsellor. And then he’s so quiet and gentle.

Agàfia.No, no; I don’t want to have a drunkard for a husband.

Fèkla.As you like, little mother. If you don’t care for one you can take another. But after all, what does it matter if a man takes a drop too much sometimes? He’s not drunk the whole week round, you know; some days he’ll come home sober.

Agàfia.And who else is there?

Fèkla.There is one more, only he’s not quite the sort.... Never mind him, the others will do better.

Agàfia.Well, but who is he?

Fèkla.Really, it’s not worth while talking about him. He’s in a good position—aulic counsellor and all that—but such a slow stick-in-the-mud, there’s no getting him out of the house.

Agàfia.Well, and who else? You have only told us about five, and you said there were six.

Fèkla.Surely you don’t want any more? Why, a minute ago you were frightened at so many, and now they’re not enough!

Arìna.What’s the use of all your noblemen? Even if you have got half a dozen of them, one shopkeeper’s worth the whole lot.

Fèkla.Oh, no, Arìna Pantelèymovna, a noble is more distinguished, somehow.

Arìna.What’s the use of being distinguished? Just look at Alexièy Dmìtrievich—what a beautiful sledge he can drive in, and his cap is real sable!...

Fèkla.Yes, but a nobleman with epaulettes on can drive past and call out, “Out of the road, counterjumper!” or, “Show me your best velvet, shopman!” and then the merchant will have to say, “Certainly, little father!” andthe nobleman will say, “Take off your hat, you clown!” That’s what he’ll say.

Arìna.And if the merchant likes, he won’t give him the stuff; and there’s your nobleman in rags without a thing to put on.

Fèkla.Then the nobleman will give the shopkeeper a black eye.

Arìna.Well then, the shopkeeper will go and complain to the police.

Fèkla.Then the nobleman will complain to the senator.

Arìna.And the merchant to the governor.

Fèkla.And the nobleman——

Arìna.Fiddlesticks! Fiddlesticks! You and your noblemen! The governor’s grander than any senator! You’re just off your head about noblemen! Don’t tell me—a nobleman can take off his hat as well as any shopkeeper, when there’s a reason why.... (Door-bell rings.) There’s some one at the door.

Fèkla.Bless me! It must be they!

Arìna.Who?

Fèkla.They.... Some of the suitors.

Agàfia(screams). Oh!

Arìna.Holy Saints! Have mercy on us sinners! The room’s in such a muddle! (Catches up all the things on the table, and runs about the room.) And the table-cloth! Just look at the table-cloth! It’s perfectly black. Douniàshka! Douniàshka! (EnterDouniàshka.) Bring a clean table-cloth—quick! (Pulls off table-cloth and rushes about the room.)

Agàfia.Oh, aunt! What shall I do? I’m half undressed!

Arìna.Little mother! Run and dress, quick! (Rushes frantically about room.Douniàshkabrings table-cloth. Door-bell rings.) Run! Make haste! Say “Directly.” (Douniàshkaexit, and calls without “Directly.”)

Agàfia.Auntie, my dress isn’t ironed!

Arìna.Oh! Merciful Heaven! Spare us! Put on another.

Fèkla(running in). What are you standing about for? Agàfia Tikhònovna! Little mother! Make haste! (Door-bell rings). There! there! he’s waiting all this time.

Arìna.Douniàshka! Let him in, and ask him to wait. (Douniàshkaruns into hall and opens door. Voices without: “At home?” “At home; come in, please.”All stoop down and try to look through keyhole.)

Agàfia(screams). Oh! what a fat man!

Fèkla.He’s coming! he’s coming. (Exeunt in a headlong rush. EnterDouniàshkaandIvàn Pàvlovich Yaìchnitza.)

Doun.Wait here, please. (Exit.)

Yaìch.It’s all very well to say “Wait,” but I can’t spend much time waiting about for her; I only got a few minutes’ leave from the Department. Supposing the General were to ask, “Where’s the usher gone?” “Gone to look for a wife!” Tut, tut, tut! The general would give her what for, I know.... I may as well look through the list again. (Reads.) “Two-storied stone house.” (Looks up and examines room.) Yes! (Reads.) “Two wings—one wooden, one with stone basement.”... H’m.... The wooden one is not up to much. (Reads.) “Carriage; carved two-horse sledge, with large and small rugs.”... I daresay they’ll be only fit to break up. However, the old woman declares they’re first-rate; well, let’s suppose they are. (Reads.) “Two dozen silver spoons.”... Of course one must have silver spoons for the house.... “Two fox-fur cloaks.”... H’m.... “Four large feather-beds; two small ones.” (Compresses lips expressively.) “Twelve silk dresses; twelve cotton ditto; two dressing-jackets; two....” H’m.... those are trifles. “Under-linen; table-cloths....” All that’sher business. However, I shall have to verify it all. It’s very likely they’ll promise a house and carriage and all sorts of things now, and when once you’re married, you find there’s not a thing but feather-beds and pillows. (Door-bell rings;Douniàshkaruns hastily through room into hall, and opens door. Voices without, “At home?” “At home.”EnterAnoùchkinandDouniàshka.)

Doun.Wait here, please; they’ll come presently. (Exit.AnoùchkinandYaìchnitzabow to each other.)

Yaìch.Your servant, sir!

Anoùch.Have I the honour to address the papa of the charming lady of the house?

Yaìch.Certainly not, sir, I have not the pleasure of having any children.

Anoùch.Oh! I beg your pardon! I really beg your pardon!

Yaìch(aside). That man’s face looks to me very suspicious; I shouldn’t wonder if he’s come about the same business that I have. (Aloud.) You doubtless have some ... some ... business with the lady of the house?

Anòuch.N-n-no.... Oh, no! I have no business.... I just came in as I was taking a walk.

Yaìch(aside). He’s a liar! taking a walk, indeed! The scoundrel wants to get married! (Door-bell rings,Douniàshkaruns through into hall and opens door.Voices without: “At home?” “At home.”EnterZhevàkinandDouniàshka.)

Zhev.(toDouniàshka). Just give me a brush, will you, my dear? One gets so dusty in the street. And take off that cobweb, please. (Turns round.) That’s right; thank you, my dear. Just look on the other side; I fancy there’s a spider running up me. Are you sure there’s nothing on the back of my collar? Thank you, child. There! I’m sure there’s something! (Smooths coat-sleeve with his hand, and looks atAnoùchkinandYaìchnitza.)It’s real English cloth. In ’95, when I was only a midshipman, and our squadron was in Sicily, I bought it and had a uniform made; in 1801, under his late Majesty, Paul Petròvich, when I was made lieutenant, the cloth was as good as new; in 1814, I went on an expedition round the world, and it only began to get a little worn at the seams; in 1815, when I retired from the service, I just had it turned; and now I’ve worn it ten years, and it looks almost new still. Thank you, my dear! My little beauty! (Kisses his hand to her, goes up to mirror, and arranges his hair.)

Anoùch.If I may take the liberty to ask, Sicily.... You were just mentioning Sicily—it is a fine country, is it not?

Zhev.Oh, beautiful! We spent thirty-four days there. I can assure you it’s a most charming place—such mountains; and the most beautiful trees ... what they callgranitetrees. And the loveliest Italian girls—perfect little rosebuds, ... one can hardly refrain from kissing them.

Anoùch.And are they well educated?

Zhev.Magnificently; as highly educated as any countess here. I remember, when I used to go along the street,—well, of course you know, a Russian lieutenant, epaulettes here (points to his shoulder), gold embroidery, and all that,—well, and these little black-eyed beauties,—I must tell you, they have verandahs to every house, and roofs as flat as this floor—well, you look up as you pass, and there sits a little rosebud; and of course one must keep up one’s reputation (makes a salute and waves his hand), and she just answers like that (makes gesture with his hand). Of course she’s always beautifully dressed—little silk cords, and taffeta stuff, and earrings, and all sorts of feminine trifles, ... in a word, the daintiest little sugar-plum——

Anoùch.Allow me to ask you one more question. In what language do people converse in Sicily?

Zhev.Oh, always in French, of course.

Anoùch.And do all the young ladies speak French?

Zhev.All, without exception. You perhaps will hardly believe me; but we lived there thirty-four days, and in all that time I never heard one of them speak a single word of Russian.

Anoùch.Not a word?

Zhev.Not one. And mind, I am not speaking of the nobles, and what they call the Signors—those are their officers, you know—but just pick out any common peasant that brings loads on his head, and try him; just say: “Dai, bràtetz, khlyeba,”[6]he won’t understand—I assure you he won’t understand. But if you say in French: “Dateci del pane,” or “Portate vino,” he’ll understand you, and he’ll run and bring it at once.

Yaìch.This same Sicily must be a very interesting country, I think. You were talking about the peasants. What are they like? Do they have broad shoulders, and plough the land like our Russian peasants?

Zhev.That I can’t tell you; I didn’t notice whether they ploughed or not. But about the question of taking snuff, I can inform you that they not only smell snuff, but even put it in their mouths. The carriage of goods is very cheap there, too; you see there’s water everywhere, and gondolas ... and in the gondola there’ll sit a sweet little rosebud of an Italian girl, beautifully dressed, with the daintiest little kerchief and camisole.... There were some English officers with us—sailors like ourselves.... It seemed so strange at first; we couldn’t understand each other. But after a bit, when we got to know each other well, we began to understand all right. You just point to a bottle or a glass, you know, and the Englishman knows at once that that means “Drink;” then you put your fist up to your mouth, and just do so with your lips—“Puff, puff,” and he knows you mean “Smoke a pipe.” Indeed, Iassure you, it’s rather an easy language; the crews got to understand each other in about three days.

Yaìch.Life must be very interesting in foreign parts. It is a great pleasure to me to become acquainted with a travelled gentleman. Allow me to ask whom I have the honour of addressing?

Zhev.Zhevàkin, retired lieutenant. Permit me, on my side, to ask with whom I have the pleasure to converse.

Yaìch.Ivàn Pàvlovich Yaìchnitza, government usher.

Zhev.(not hearing well). Thank you, I have already lunched. It’s cold weather, and I knew I had a long walk before me, so I had a marinated herring.

Yaìch.You have not quite understood me, I think; I said my name is Yaìchnitza.

Zhev.(bows). Oh! I beg your pardon; I am a little hard of hearing. I ... really ... understood you to say ... that you had lunched on an omelette.

Yaìch.Yes; it’s very unfortunate. I thought of asking the General to allow me to change my name to Yaìchnitzyn; but my friends dissuaded me; they said it would sound like Sobachi Syn.[7]

Zhev.Yes, there are such cases. All our squadron, both officers and crew, had the most extraordinary names: Pomòykin,[8]Yarỳzhkin,[9]Lieutenant Pereprèyev;[10]and there was one midshipman—a very good midshipman too—whose name was just Dỳrka;[11]it was so odd; the captain would call, “Come here, Dỳrka;” and we all of us used to tease him, and call him stop-gap, and bung-hole, and all sorts of things. (Door-bell rings,Fèklaruns across stage.)

Yaìch.Ah! Good-morning, little mother!

Zhev.Good-morning! How are you, my dear?

Anoùch.Glad to see you, little mother, Fèkla Ivànovna.

Fèkla(hurriedly). Thank you, thank you; same to you.(Exit into hall; opens door. Voices without: “At home?” “At home.”Then several half-inaudible words;Fèkla’svoice answers angrily: “Just you take care!”EnterKochkaryòv,Podkolyòssin,andFèkla.)

Koch.(toPodkolyòssin). Now just keep up your courage—that’s all that’s wanted. (Glances round, and salutes the company with a surprised expression.) (Aside.) Oho! What a lot of people! What’s the meaning of this? They can’t all be suitors. (NudgesFèkla,and speaks to her softly.) Where did all these crows come from, eh?

Fèkla(softly). There are no crows here; they are all honest people.

Koch.(to her). There are plenty of them, but they’re precious draggletailed.

Fèkla(softly). I doubt they’ll fly better than yours, for all he’s so grand. ’Tisn’t fine feathers make fine birds.

Koch.(softly). Yes, every crow thinks her own children the fairest. (Aloud.) What’s she doing now? I suppose that door leads to her bedroom? (Approaches door.)

Fèkla.For shame! I tell you she’s dressing.

Koch.Well, dear me! there’s no harm in that! I’ll only just look in—nothing more. (Peeps through keyhole.)

Zhev.Permit me to satisfy my curiosity too!

Yaìch.Let me have one little peep.

Koch.(continuing to look). There’s nothing to be seen, gentlemen; there’s something white, but I can’t make out whether it’s a woman or a pillow. (They all crowd round door and try to peep through keyhole.)

Koch.There’s ... some one coming! (All start back. EnterArìna PantelèymovnaandAgàfia Tikhònovna.All bow.)

Arìna.To what are we indebted for the honour of this visit?

Yaìch.I read in the newspapers that you wished to enter into a contract to supply timber; and therefore, as Ihold the post of usher in a Government Department, I called to inquire what kind of timber you can supply, what quantity, and at what date.

Arìna.We don’t take contracts; but we are very glad to see you. Allow me to ask your name.

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