THE VODKA BOTTLE

(A Play of Russian Life in the manner of Anton Tchekov.)

The study of Ivan Ivanovitch Bougárov, a wealthy landowner. Bougárov is alone at the desk. A vodka bottle and a measuring glass are at his elbow.

Bougárov(sniffing the glass): It’s strong enough, I think.... Brr, what a filthy stench!... Where are the directions? (He gropes for a piece of paper.) Here they are. Sprinkle it on toasted cheese, and leave it lying about in the vicinity of their holes. (Examining the bottle.) That ought to be sufficient for all the rats in Little Russia as the saying is. (EnterStepan Stepanovitch Rumbunkski.)

Rumbunkski: Good morning, honoured Ivan Ivanovitch.

Bougárov: Little Fathers, Stepan Stepanovitch, how you startled me.

Rumbunkski: Your nerves are upset, my darling. You must give up the vodka, and all that.

Bougárov: But my dear little Stepan Stepanovitch, you are wrong; because you see, my dearest little Stepan Stepanovitch, I don’t drink vodka now, and so it can’t be vodka.

Rumbunkski: Don’t drink vodka?

Bougárov: No, my precious, I don’t drink it any more; so you see you must be wrong, my little woodchuck.

Rumbunkski: But, Ivan Ivanovitch, my dear fellow, don’t try to stuff my head, as the French say. You must drink vodka, because there’s a bottle and glass on the table before you. I don’t say you drink to excess, my dearest little love-bird, but you must drink it sometimes—or you wouldn’t have it always on the table in front of you, and so on.

Bougárov: Stepan Stepanovitch, be careful how you contradict me, because I can’t stand it, my dear little flying-fish, and that’s a fact. You ought to know better than to come into a brother landowner’s house and accuse him of drunkenness to his face. It’s mean; it’s beastly; it’s not worthy of you, my little alligator.

Rumbunkski: I didn’t accuse you of anything of the kind. I only said——

Bougárov: Well, well, you withdraw. That’s all right. We’ll say no more about it.

Rumbunkski: But excuse me, my dear Ivan Ivanovitch, I don’t withdraw, because I have said nothing that calls for withdrawal. I didn’t make any beastly accusation and all that. All I said——

Bougárov: Oh, little God Almighty, won’t youstop talking! I can’t stand it, I tell you. My head’s bursting, and I’ve got a terrible pain in my shoulder blades. And both my ears are burning.

Rumbunkski: All I said was that vodka didn’t agree with you, and you know it doesn’t. Why everyone knows perfectly well that one night, at Roobikov’s, you——

Bougárov: Excuse me, Stepan Stepanovitch, but you’d better go. Yes, you had better go. I might do you a mischief, and so on; and I shall be sorry afterwards. That night at Roobikov’s, let me tell you, you were in a disgusting state yourself, and unfit to pass an opinion on anybody.

Rumbunkski: That’s a lie, Ivan Ivanovitch: you were always a liar and an intriguer. And as for doing me a mischief, come and try, that’s all!

Bougárov: Oh, little Mothers, help me to be patient. You’re a skunk and a coward, Stepan Stepanovitch. A skunk. You know you’re safe in threatening me, because I’m on my last legs with disease, and dying out, and all that, and so you think you can insult me with impunity. But when Dmitri Dmitriov thrashed you with a cane——

Rumbunkski: What’s this? What’s this lie about Dmitri Dmitriov. Oh, Little Uncles and Aunts, this is a bit too much!

Bougárov: Yes. Dmitri Dmitriov thrashed you, didn’t he? And you ran squealing about the room, trying to hide under the furniture——

Rumbunkski: Ivan Ivanovitch, how can you tell such falsehoods? I was wounded at the time and couldn’t put up a fight. But I settled him afterwards.

Bougárov: Yes. By having him waylaid and thrashed by Yats, the blacksmith.

Rumbunkski: Ivan Ivanovitch, you impugn my honour. You insult me. If you weren’t an old infirm vodka drunkard I’d smash you into a jelly. I’d stamp on your face. But please don’t imagine I shall marry your daughter now. I say, please don’t. That’s finished. You don’t marry into a family that insults you. No. Never.

Bougárov: Now, my dear Stepan Stepanovitch, do be reasonable. Anything harsh that I may have said you brought on yourself, my darling. You shouldn’t have begun about the vodka, my dearest little duck-billed platypus.

Rumbunkski: So I’m a coward, am I? Just wait. I’ll get my breath, and then you’ll see.... I’m sick. I must have a drink. (Seizes the vodka bottle.)

Bougárov(trying to take it away): Not that, my dear fellow. Give it back, I implore you.

Rumbunkski: I must have a drink, I tell you... I’m seeing stars ... bats are flying round my head ... I’m falling—(drinks from the bottle). T’shoo! Pfui!! What disgusting liquor.

Bougárov(protesting): It isn’t liquor at all, honoured Stepan Stepanovitch. It’s poison, my dearest little frog. I told you it wasn’t vodka, and you wouldn’t believe me.

Rumbunkski(in wild horror): Poison. Where’s an emetic?... I can’t see.... My head’s going to burst.... Now my heart’s come to pieces. My nose is twitching. Both my eyes are falling out. Ah—h——(falls into a chair sobbing hysterically).

Bougárov(yelling): He’s poisoned. I’m a rat-catcher ... we’re all murderers.... Little Fathers, have pity! (EnterIrena Ivanovna,Bougárov’s daughter.) There. Your husband to be. I’ve murdered him. Lock me up. Suffocate yourself. Tickle his throat. Give him mustard and water. A drink. I’m fainting. Quick. (She gives him the glass from the desk. He drains it.) Pouagh! Now I’m poisoned too.... My ears have gone to sleep.... All my teeth are aching. I’m agony all over (collapses on the sofa screaming).

Irena Ivanovna(wildly): Vodka—Champagne—Mustardand Water. (She plies them with assorted liquors, which they drink gratefully. They are shaken by internal tempests. They recover slowly.)

Bougárov(faintly): Give thanks to Irena Ivanovna, my dear Stepan Stepanovitch. Without the presence of mind of your wife-to-be you’d be a dead man, my little angel-elect.

Rumbunkski(feebly): I say no. I’ve told you I won’t marry her. Impugn my honour and all that. A thousand times no.

Irena(tenderly): Nobody’s impugned your honour, illustrious Stepan Stepanovitch. Your mind is affected by the poison, my little darling.

Rumbunkski: No. He did (indicatesBougárov). He accuses me of waylaying Dmitri Dmitriov. Not that he has any right to talk after what was done to Andrey Andreyvitch.

Bougárov(as violently as he is able): Now I give you one chance, Stepan Stepanovitch. Either stop these insinuations or leave my house. Yes. I’m sick of you. Yes. I’ve had enough. Enough, I say.

Rumbunkski(staggering): I’ll go. Yes. I’d better go. I’m fainting with pain, and I’ve such a bilious attack I can hardly move without nausea; but I’d sooner suffer any torments than put up with false friends.

Irena: False friends? Take care what you say, Stepan Stepanovitch. When you talk about false friends remember how you betrayed Nicolai Nicolaivitch at Moscow, and so on. Think of the Cheka and all that, before you talk of disloyalty, my little wood pigeon.

Bougárov(sneering): And remember that even if I am a dying man with heart disease and paralysis, I’ve got people in my house who are good enough to settle the hash of a lame hen like you, honoured Stepan Stepanovitch Rumbunkski.

Rumbunkski: Ah, you threaten, do you? Wait a bit.... Ah, Little Fathers, this poison. I’m dead again. (He falls over sideways.)

Irena Ivanovna(screaming atBougárov): He’s dead. Unnatural father. Murderer.

Bougárov(at the top of his voice): Don’t yell like that. You inflict me with the most acute palpitations.... I can’t see.... I’m a dead man. (He sinks back in his chair.)

Irena Ivanovna: Little Fathers and Mothers!... I must escape. (She drains the vodka bottle and falls prostrate. They all lie motionless. You think they are dead; but they are not. Just as the light is failing they come to life one by one and resume their dispute. The fall of the curtain and the end of the play leave nothing decided.)

Rumbunkski: Ah! Little Fathers, this poison——

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