The Inspector-General (4 page)

The Judge, the Superintendent of Charities, the School Inspector, and
Postmaster go out and bump up against the Sergeant in the doorway as the
latter returns.

The Governor, Bobchinsky, Dobchinsky, and Sergeant Svistunov.

GOVERNOR. Well, is the cab ready?

SVISTUNOV. Yes, sir.

GOVERNOR. Go out on the street—or, no, stop—go and bring—why, where
are the others? Why are you alone? Didn't I give orders for Prokhorov to
be here? Where is Prokhorov?

SVISTUNOV. Prokhorov is in somebody's house and can't go on duty just
now.

GOVERNOR. Why so?

SVISTUNOV. Well, they brought him back this morning dead drunk. They
poured two buckets of water over him, but he hasn't sobered up yet.

GOVERNOR
(clutching his head with both hands)
. For Heaven's sake! Go
out on duty quick—or, no, run up to my room, do you hear? And fetch my
sword and my new hat. Now, Piotr Ivanovich,
(to Dobchinsky)
come.

BOBCHINSKY. And me—me, too. Let me come, too, Anton Antonovich.

GOVERNOR. No, no, Bobchinsky, it won't do. Besides there is not enough
room in the cab.

BOBCHINSKY. Oh, that doesn't matter. I'll follow the cab on foot—on
foot. I just want to peep through a crack—so—to see that manner of
his—how he acts.

GOVERNOR
(turning to the Sergeant and taking his sword)
. Be off and get
the policemen together. Let them each take a—there, see how scratched
my sword is. It's that dog of a merchant, Abdulin. He sees the
Governor's sword is old and doesn't provide a new one. Oh, the sharpers!
I'll bet they've got their petitions against me ready in their coat-tail
pockets.—Let each take a street in his hand—I don't mean a street—a
broom—and sweep the street leading to the inn, and sweep it clean,
and—do you hear? And see here, I know you, I know your tricks. You
insinuate yourselves into the inn and walk off with silver spoons in
your boots. Just you look out. I keep my ears pricked. What have you
been up to with the merchant, Chorniayev, eh? He gave you two yards of
cloth for your uniform and you stole the whole piece. Take care. You're
only a Sergeant. Don't graft higher than your rank. Off with you.

Enter the Police Captain.

GOVERNOR. Hello, Stepan Ilyich, where the dickens have you been keeping
yourself? What do you mean by acting that way?

CAPTAIN. Why, I was just outside the gate.

GOVERNOR. Well, listen, Stepan Ilyich. An official has come from St.
Petersburg. What have you done about it?

CAPTAIN. What you told me to. I sent Sergeant Pugovichyn with policemen
to clean the street.

GOVERNOR. Where is Derzhimorda?

CAPTAIN. He has gone off on the fire engine.

GOVERNOR. And Prokhorov is drunk?

CAPTAIN. Yes.

GOVERNOR. How could you allow him to get drunk?

CAPTAIN. God knows. Yesterday there was a fight outside the town. He
went to restore order and was brought back drunk.

GOVERNOR. Well, then, this is what you are to do.—Sergeant
Pugovichyn—he is tall. So he is to stand on duty on the bridge for
appearance' sake. Then the old fence near the bootmaker's must be pulled
down at once and a post stuck up with a whisp of straw so as to look
like grading. The more debris there is the more it will show the
governor's activity.—Good God, though, I forgot that about forty
cart-loads of rubbish have been dumped against that fence. What a vile,
filthy town this is! A monument, or even only a fence, is erected, and
instantly they bring a lot of dirt together, from the devil knows where,
and dump it there.
(Heaves a sigh.)
And if the functionary that has come
here asks any of the officials whether they are satisfied, they are to
say, "Perfectly satisfied, your Honor"; and if anybody is not satisfied,
I'll give him something to be dissatisfied about afterwards.—Ah, I'm
a sinner, a terrible sinner.
(Takes the hat-box, instead of his hat.)
Heaven only grant that I may soon get this matter over and done with;
then I'll donate a candle such as has never been offered before. I'll
levy a hundred pounds of wax from every damned merchant. Oh my, oh my!
Come, let's go, Piotr Ivanovich.
(Tries to put the hat-box on his head
instead of his hat.)

CAPTAIN. Anton Antonovich, that's the hat-box, not your hat.

GOVERNOR
(throwing the box down)
. If it's the hat-box, it's the hat-box,
the deuce take it!—And if he asks why the church at the hospital for
which the money was appropriated five years ago has not been built,
don't let them forget to say that the building was begun but was
destroyed by fire. I sent in a report about it, you know. Some blamed
fool might forget and let out that the building was never even begun.
And tell Derzhimorda not to be so free with his fists. Guilty
or innocent, he makes them all see stars in the cause of public
order.—Come on, come on, Dobchinsky.
(Goes out and returns.)
And don't
let the soldiers appear on the streets with nothing on. That rotten
garrison wear their coats directly over their undershirts.

All go out.

Anna Andreyevna and Marya Antonovna rush in on the stage.

ANNA. Where are they? Where are they? Oh, my God!
(opening the door.)
Husband! Antosha! Anton!
(hurriedly, to Marya.)
It's all your fault.
Dawdling! Dawdling!—"I want a pin—I want a scarf."
(Runs to the window
and calls.)
Anton, where are you going? Where are you going? What! He
has come? The Inspector? He has a moustache? What kind of a moustache?

GOVERNOR
(from without)
. Wait, dear. Later.

ANNA. Wait? I don't want to wait. The idea, wait! I only want one word.
Is he a colonel or what? Eh?
(Disgusted.)
There, he's gone! You'll pay
for it! It's all your fault—you, with your "Mamma, dear, wait a moment,
I'll just pin my scarf. I'll come directly." Yes, directly! Now we have
missed the news. It's all your confounded coquettishness. You heard the
Postmaster was here and so you must prink and prim yourself in front of
the mirror—look on this side and that side and all around. You imagine
he's smitten with you. But I can tell you he makes a face at you the
moment you turn your back.

MARYA. It can't be helped, mamma. We'll know everything in a couple of
hours anyway.

ANNA. In a couple of hours! Thank you! A nice answer. Why don't you
say, in a month. We'll know still more in a month.
(She leans out of the
window.)
Here, Avdotya! I say! Have you heard whether anybody has come,
Avdotya?—No, you goose, you didn't—He waved his hands? Well, what of
it? Let him wave his hands. But you should have asked him anyhow.
You couldn't find out, of course, with your head full of nonsense and
lovers. Eh, what? They left in a hurry? Well, you should have run after
the carriage. Off with you, off with you at once, do you hear? Run and
ask everybody where they are. Be sure and find out who the newcomer
is and what he is like, do you hear? Peep through a crack and find
everything out—what sort of eyes he has, whether they are black or
blue, and be back here instantly, this minute, do you hear? Quick,
quick, quick!

She keeps on calling and they both stand at the window until the curtain
drops.

A small room in the inn, bed, table, travelling bag, empty bottle,
boots, clothes brush, etc.

OSIP
(lying on his master's bed)
. The devil take it! I'm so hungry.
There's a racket in my belly, as if a whole regiment were blowing
trumpets. We'll never reach home. I'd like to know what we are going to
do. Two months already since we left St. Pete. He's gone through all his
cash, the precious buck, so now he sticks here with his tail between his
legs and takes it easy. We'd have had enough and more than enough to pay
for the fare, but no he must exhibit himself in every town.
(Imitates
him.)
"Osip, get me the best room to be had and order the best dinner
they serve. I can't stand bad food. I must have the best." It would be
all right for a somebody, but for a common copying clerk! Goes and gets
acquainted with the other travellers, plays cards, and plays himself
out of his last penny. Oh, I'm sick of this life. It's better in our
village, really. There isn't so much going on, but then there is less to
bother about. You get yourself a wife and lie on the stove all the time
and eat pie. Of course, if you wanted to tell the truth, there's no
denying it that there's nothing like living in St. Pete. All you want is
money. And then you can live smart and classy—theeadres, dogs to dance
for you, everything, and everybody talks so genteel, pretty near like
in high society. If you go to the Schukin bazaar, the shopkeepers cry,
"Gentlemen," at you. You sit with the officials in the ferry boat. If
you want company, you go into a shop. A sport there will tell you about
life in the barracks and explain the meaning of every star in the sky,
so that you see them all as if you held them in your hand. Then an old
officer's wife will gossip, or a pretty chambermaid will dart a look
at you—ta, ta, ta!
(Smirks and wags his head.)
And what deucedly civil
manners they have, too. You never hear no impolite language. They always
say "Mister" to you. If you are tired of walking, why you take a cab
and sit in it like a lord. And if you don't feel like paying, then you
don't. Every house has an open-work gate and you can slip through
and the devil himself won't catch you. There's one bad thing, though;
sometimes you get first class eats and sometimes you're so starved you
nearly drop—like now. It's all his fault. What can you do with him? His
dad sends him money to keep him going, but the devil a lot it does. He
goes off on a spree, rides in cabs, gets me to buy a theeadre ticket for
him every day, and in a week look at him—sends me to the old clo'es man
to sell his new dress coat. Sometimes he gets rid of everything down to
his last shirt and is left with nothing except his coat and overcoat.
Upon my word, it's the truth. And such fine cloth, too. English, you
know. One dress coat costs him a hundred and fifty rubles and he sells
it to the old clo'es man for twenty. No use saying nothing about his
pants. They go for a song. And why? Because he doesn't tend to his
business. Instead of sticking to his job, he gads about on the Prospect
and plays cards. Ah, if the old gentleman only knew it! He wouldn't care
that you are an official. He'd lift up your little shirtie and would lay
it on so that you'd go about rubbing yourself for a week. If you have
a job, stick to it. Here's the innkeeper says he won't let you have
anything to eat unless you pay your back bills. Well, and suppose we
don't pay.
(Sighing.)
Oh, good God! If only I could get cabbage soup. I
think I could eat up the whole world now. There's a knock at the door. I
suppose it's him.
(Rises from the bed hastily.)

Osip and Khlestakov.

KHLESTAKOV. Here!
(Hands him his cap and cane.)
What, been warming the
bed again!

OSIP. Why should I have been warming the bed? Have I never seen a bed
before?

KHLESTAKOV. You're lying. The bed's all tumbled up.

OSIP. What do I want a bed for? Don't I know what a bed is like? I have
legs and can use them to stand on. I don't need your bed.

KHLESTAKOV
(walking up and down the room)
. Go see if there isn't some
tobacco in the pouch.

OSIP. What tobacco? You emptied it out four days ago.

KHLESTAKOV
(pacing the room and twisting his lips. Finally he says in a
loud resolute voice)
. Listen—a—Osip.

OSIP. Yes, sir?

KHLESTAKOV
(In a voice just as loud, but not quite so resolute)
. Go down
there.

OSIP. Where?

KHLESTAKOV
(in a voice not at all resolute, nor loud, but almost in
entreaty)
. Down to the restaurant—tell them—to send up dinner.

OSIP. No, I won't.

KHLESTAKOV. How dare you, you fool!

OSIP. It won't do any good, anyhow. The landlord said he won't let you
have anything more to eat.

KHLESTAKOV. How dare he! What nonsense is this?

OSIP. He'll go to the Governor, too, he says. It's two weeks now since
you've paid him, he says. You and your master are cheats, he says, and
your master is a blackleg besides, he says. We know the breed. We've
seen swindlers like him before.

KHLESTAKOV. And you're delighted, I suppose, to repeat all this to me,
you donkey.

OSIP. "Every Tom, Dick and Harry comes and lives here," he says, "and
runs up debts so that you can't even put him out. I'm not going to fool
about it," he says, "I'm going straight to the Governor and have him
arrested and put in jail."

KHLESTAKOV. That'll do now, you fool. Go down at once and tell him to
have dinner sent up. The coarse brute! The idea!

OSIP. Hadn't I better call the landlord here?

KHLESTAKOV. What do I want the landlord for? Go and tell him yourself.

OSIP. But really, master—

KHLESTAKOV. Well, go, the deuce take you. Call the landlord.

Osip goes out.

KHLESTAKOV
(alone)
. I am so ravenously hungry. I took a little stroll
thinking I could walk off my appetite. But, hang it, it clings. If I
hadn't dissipated so in Penza I'd have had enough money to get home
with. The infantry captain did me up all right. Wonderful the way the
scoundrel cut the cards! It didn't take more than a quarter of an hour
for him to clean me out of my last penny. And yet I would give
anything to have another set-to with him. Only I never will have the
chance.—What a rotten town this is! You can't get anything on credit in
the grocery shops here. It's deucedly mean, it is.
(He whistles, first
an air from Robert le Diable, then a popular song, then a blend of the
two.)
No one's coming.