Delphi Complete Works of Anton Chekhov (Illustrated) (380 page)

SCENE XI.

PLATONOV and afterwards GREKOVA.

PLATONOV (alone). A cigarette, Nikolai, and some water! (Glances round.) What’s become of them? Well, I must start... (Pause.) [What a mess I’ve made of things! ] I’ve ruined weak women . . . they were all wholly blameless. ... It would have been different if I had killed them under the pressure of terrific passions ... in Spanish fashion . . . but I’ve killed them stupidly, in the Russian manner... (Waves a hand bejore his eyes.) Mouches volantes . . . little clouds . . . I’m growing delirious. ... I feel crushed... (Covers his face with his hands.) Shame, burning shame... What pain shame can give! (He rises.) I was cold, hungry, worn out, done for, and I had played my wretched part . . . and I came into this house... They gave me a warm corner, dressed me, were kind to me. ... I paid them well! Still, I am ill. ... I feel badly. ... I ought to kill myself... (Walks up to the table.) Choose . . . here is a whole arsenal . . . (Picks up a revolver.) Hamlet feared dreams ... I fear . . . life! What will I be if I go on living? Shame will gnaw at me. . . .

(Puts the revolver to his temples.) Finita la come- dia! One clever beast the less! Christ, forgive my sins! (Pause.) Well? Soon death will come... What do I care now if my hand hurts... (Pause.) I haven’t the strength! (Places the revolver on the table.) I want to live... (Sits down on the divan.) (Enter Grekova.) I wish I had some water... Where’s Triletzky? (Sees Grekova.) Who is this? Ah-a-a . . . (Laughs.) My wicked enemy... Are we going to judgment tomorrow? (Pause.) GREKOVA. Of course not. After your letter we are no longer enemies.

PLATONOV. It’s all the same. I’d like some water. GREKOVA. Water? What’s the matter?

PLATONOV. I am ill. ... I have a fever. ... I was pleased. ... It was clever. It would have been still more clever if you’d had nothing to do with me... I wanted to shoot myself... (Laughs.) I didn’t succeed... An instinct... The mind pursues its own, nature its own... You’re a clever girl! (Kisses her hand.) Listen... Do you want to listen to me? GREKOVA. Yes, yes, yes . . .

PLATONOV. Take me to you! I’m ill, I want water, I’m suffering unbearable torture! I want to sleep, there’s no place where ... If only I could lie down in a barn, if only in some corner. ... I want water, and some quinine. Please! (Stretches out a hand.) GREKOVA. Of course, you may come to me! With pleasure! You may live at my house as long as you like... But you don’t know all I’ve done! Come, let’s go!

PLATONOV. Merci, my clever little girl. ... A cigarette, some water, and a bed! Is it raining? GREKOVA. Yes.

PLATONOV. We shall have to go in the rain... We shan’t go to a court of justice. Peace! (Looks at her.)

GREKOVA. Come! I have a covered carriage.

PLATONOV. You are lovely... Why do you blush? I shan’t touch you. But I’ll kiss your cool hand... (Kisses her hand and -pulls her to him.) GREKOVA (sitting down on his knees). No . . . don’t! (Rises.) Let’s go... Your face is strange... Let go my hand!

PLATONOV. I’m ill. (Rises.) We’ll go... On the cheek . . . (Kisses her cheek.) No ulterior motive. I can’t . . . Anyhow, it’s all nonsense. Let’s go, Marya Efimovna! And, please, the sooner the better! Here’s the revolver with which I wanted to shoot myself... On the cheek . . . (Kisses her cheek?) I’m delirious, I know . . . but I see your face... I love all human beings! All! I love you too... Human beings have been, above all else, dear to me. ... I didn’t want to hurt anyone, and I’ve hurt all... All... (Kisses her hand.) GREKOVA. I understood everything. ... I understand your position... It’s Sofya . . . yes?

PLATONOV. Sofi, Zizi, Mimi, Masha...
There are many of you. ... I love you all. I was at the University, and I used to say kind words to the fallen ... in the Theatre Square... The people were in the theatre, and I in the Square... There was one . . . Shall I show you her letters? GREKOVA. What’s the matter with you?

PLATONOV. You think I’m out of my wits? No, it’s this way... It’s fever . . . delirium . . . Ask Triletzky. (Takes her by the shoulders.) They all love me... All! It would happen, I’d humiliate them . . . and they love you even then... There’s Grekova, for one. ... I humiliated her by pushing her on to a table, and she loves me. You’re Grekova herself, as it happens... I’m sorry... GREKOVA. What gives you pain?

PLATONOV. Platonov gives me pain. You love me, don’t you? You love me? Be frank. ... I don’t want anything... Only tell me, do you love me? GREKOVA. Yes... (Puts her head on his breast.) Yes. . . .

PLATONOV (kissing her head). They all love me. ... As soon as I get well, I’ll corrupt them... I used to say kind words to them at first, and now I corrupt them. . . .

GREKOVA. It’s all the same to me. ... I don’t want anything... You are the only human being there is. I don’t want to know any others! You can do with me as you like... You are the only human being there is! (Weeps.)

PLATONOV. I understand King CEdipus who pierced his own eyes! How low I am, and how deeply I am conscious of my lowness! Go away from me! It isn’t worth it. ... I am ill. (Frees himself.) I’m going away soon... Excuse me, Marya Efimovna! I’ll go out of my mind! Where’s Triletzky? (Enter Sofya Egorovna.)

SCENE XII.

The SAME and SOFYA EGOROVNA.

SOFYA EGOROVNA (goes to the table and searches for something).

GREKOVA (seizing Platonov by the hand). Sh-h . . . (Pause.)

SOFYA EGOROVNA (takes the revolver, shoots at Platonov and misses him).

GREKOVA (places herself between Platonov and Sofya Egorovna). What are you doing? (She shouts.) Come here! Quick!

SOFYA EGOROVNA. Let me . . . (Evades Grekova and, holding the revolver close to Platonov’s breast, pulls the trigger.) Wait, wait... How is it . . . (He falls. Anna Petrovna, Ivan Ivanovitch, Triletzky and Voinitzev come running in.)

CURTAIN

A DRAMATIC STUDY

CHARACTERS

TIHON EVSTIGNEYEV, the proprietor of a inn on the main road

SEMYON SERGEYEVITCH BORTSOV, a ruined landowner

MARIA EGOROVNA, his wife

SAVVA, an aged pilgrim

NAZAROVNA and EFIMOVNA, women pilgrims

FEDYA, a labourer

EGOR MERIK, a tramp

KUSMA, a driver

POSTMAN

BORTSOV’S WIFE’S COACHMAN

PILGRIMS, CATTLE-DEALERS, ETC.

The action takes place in one of the provinces of Southern Russia

ON THE HIGH ROAD

[The scene is laid in TIHON’S bar. On the right is the bar-counter and shelves with bottles. At the back is a door leading out of the house. Over it, on the outside, hangs a dirty red lantern. The floor and the forms, which stand against the wall, are closely occupied by pilgrims and passers-by. Many of them, for lack of space, are sleeping as they sit. It is late at night. As the curtain rises thunder is heard, and lightning is seen through the door.]

[TIHON is behind the counter. FEDYA is half-lying in a heap on one of the forms, and is quietly playing on a concertina. Next to him is BORTSOV, wearing a shabby summer overcoat. SAVVA, NAZAROVNA, and EFIMOVNA are stretched out on the floor by the benches.]

EFIMOVNA.
[To NAZAROVNA]
Give the old man a nudge dear! Can’t get any answer out of him.

NAZAROVNA. [Lifting the corner of a cloth covering of SAVVA’S face] Are you alive or are you dead, you holy man?

SAVVA. Why should I be dead? I’m alive, mother!
[Raises himself on his elbow]
Cover up my feet, there’s a saint! That’s it. A bit more on the right one. That’s it, mother. God be good to us.

NAZAROVNA. [Wrapping up SAVVA’S feet] Sleep, little father.

SAVVA. What sleep can I have? If only I had the patience to endure this pain, mother; sleep’s quite another matter. A sinner doesn’t deserve to be given rest. What’s that noise, pilgrim-woman?

NAZAROVNA. God is sending a storm. The wind is wailing, and the rain is pouring down, pouring down. All down the roof and into the windows like dried peas. Do you hear? The windows of heaven are opened...
[Thunder]
Holy, holy, holy...

FEDYA. And it roars and thunders, and rages, sad there’s no end to it! Hoooo... it’s like the noise of a forest.... Hoooo.... The wind is wailing like a dog....
[Shrinking back]
It’s cold! My clothes are wet, it’s all coming in through the open door... you might put me through a wringer....
[Plays softly]
My concertina’s damp, and so there’s no music for you, my Orthodox brethren, or else I’d give you such a concert, my word! — Something marvellous! You can have a quadrille, or a polka, if you like, or some Russian dance for two.... I can do them all. In the town, where I was an attendant at the Grand Hotel, I couldn’t make any money, but I did wonders on my concertina. And, I can play the guitar.

A VOICE FROM THE CORNER. A silly speech from a silly fool.

FEDYA. I can hear another of them.
[Pause.]

NAZAROVNA.
[To SAVVA]
If you’d only lie where it was warm now, old man, and warm your feet.
[Pause.]
Old man! Man of God!
[Shakes SAVVA]
Are you going to die?

FEDYA. You ought to drink a little vodka, grandfather. Drink, and it’ll burn, burn in your stomach, and warm up your heart. Drink, do!

NAZAROVNA. Don’t swank, young man! Perhaps the old man is giving back his soul to God, or repenting for his sins, and you talk like that, and play your concertina.... Put it down! You’ve no shame!

FEDYA. And what are you sticking to him for? He can’t do anything and you... with your old women’s talk... He can’t say a word in reply, and you’re glad, and happy because he’s listening to your nonsense.... You go on sleeping, grandfather; never mind her! Let her talk, don’t you take any notice of her. A woman’s tongue is the devil’s broom — it will sweep the good man and the clever man both out of the house. Don’t you mind....
[Waves his hands]
But it’s thin you are, brother of mine! Terrible! Like a dead skeleton! No life in you! Are you really dying?

SAVVA. Why should I die? Save me, O Lord, from dying in vain.... I’ll suffer a little, and then get up with God’s help.... The Mother of God won’t let me die in a strange land.... I’ll die at home.

FEDYA. Are you from far off?

SAVVA. From Vologda. The town itself.... I live there.

FEDYA. And where is this Vologda?

TIHON. The other side of Moscow....

FEDYA. Well, well, well.... You have come a long way, old man! On foot?

SAVVA. On foot, young man. I’ve been to Tihon of the Don, and I’m going to the Holy Hills. [Note: On the Donetz, south-east of Kharkov; a monastery containing a miraculous ikon.]... From there, if God wills it, to Odessa.... They say you can get to Jerusalem cheap from there, for twenty-ones roubles, they say....

FEDYA. And have you been to Moscow?

SAVVA. Rather! Five times....

FEDYA. Is it a good town?
[Smokes]
Well-standing?

Sews. There are many holy places there, young man.... Where there are many holy places it’s always a good town....

BORTSOV. [Goes up to the counter, to TIHON] Once more, please! For the sake of Christ, give it to me!

FEDYA. The chief thing about a town is that it should be clean. If it’s dusty, it must be watered; if it’s dirty, it must be cleaned. There ought to be big houses... a theatre... police... cabs, which... I’ve lived in a town myself, I understand.

BORTSOV. Just a little glass. I’ll pay you for it later.

TIHON. That’s enough now.

BORTSOV. I ask you! Do be kind to me!

TIHON. Get away!

BORTSOV. You don’t understand me.... Understand me, you fool, if there’s a drop of brain in your peasant’s wooden head, that it isn’t I who am asking you, but my inside, using the words you understand, that’s what’s asking! My illness is what’s asking! Understand!

TIHON. We don’t understand anything.... Get back!

BORTSOV. Because if I don’t have a drink at once, just you understand this, if I don’t satisfy my needs, I may commit some crime. God only knows what I might do! In the time you’ve kept this place, you rascal, haven’t you seen a lot of drunkards, and haven’t you yet got to understand what they’re like? They’re diseased! You can do anything you like to them, but you must give them vodka! Well, now, I implore you! Please! I humbly ask you! God only knows how humbly!

TIHON. You can have the vodka if you pay for it.

BORTSOV. Where am I to get the money? I’ve drunk it all! Down to the ground! What can I give you? I’ve only got this coat, but I can’t give you that. I’ve nothing on underneath.... Would you like my cap? [Takes it off and gives it to TIHON]

TIHON.
[Looks it over]
Hm.... There are all sorts of caps.... It might be a sieve from the holes in it....

FEDYA.
[Laughs]
A gentleman’s cap! You’ve got to take it off in front of the mam’selles. How do you do, good-bye! How are you?

TIHON.
[Returns the cap to BORTSOV]
I wouldn’t give anything for it. It’s muck.

BORTSOV. If you don’t like it, then let me owe you for the drink! I’ll bring in your five copecks on my way back from town. You can take it and choke yourself with it then! Choke yourself! I hope it sticks in your throat!
[Coughs]
I hate you!

TIHON. [Banging the bar-counter with his fist] Why do you keep on like that? What a man! What are you here for, you swindler?

BORTSOV. I want a drink! It’s not I, it’s my disease! Understand that!

TIHON. Don’t you make me lose my temper, or you’ll soon find yourself outside!

BORTSOV. What am I to do? [Retires from the bar-counter] What am I to do?
[Is thoughtful.]

EFIMOVNA. It’s the devil tormenting you. Don’t you mind him, sir. The damned one keeps whispering, “Drink! Drink!” And you answer him, “I shan’t drink! I shan’t drink!” He’ll go then.

FEDYA. It’s drumming in his head.... His stomach’s leading him on!
[Laughs]
Your houour’s a happy man. Lie down and go to sleep! What’s the use of standing like a scarecrow in the middle of the inn! This isn’t an orchard!

BORTSOV.
[Angrily]
Shut up! Nobody spoke to you, you donkey.

FEDYA. Go on, go on! We’ve seen the like of you before! There’s a lot like you tramping the high road! As to being a donkey, you wait till I’ve given you a clout on the ear and you’ll howl worse than the wind. Donkey yourself! Fool!
[Pause]
Scum!

NAZAROVNA. The old man may be saying a prayer, or giving up his soul to God, and here are these unclean ones wrangling with one another and saying all sorts of... Have shame on yourselves!