Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated) (425 page)

Tropatchov. We don’t ask any sacrifice of you. . . . Only just sing us a song. Come! [Kuzovkin is silent.] Come now!

Kuzovkin [after a brief pause, begins singing: ‘As down the Street’, but his voice breaks almost at the second word]. I can’t, I really can’t.

Tropatchov. Come, come, don’t be shy.

Kuzovkin [glancing at him]. No, sir ... I won’t sing.

Tropatchov. You won’t?

Kuzovkin. I can’t.

Tropatchov. Do you know what then? You see this glass of champagne? I am going to empty it down your neck.

Kuzovkin [,agitatedJ. You won’t do that, sir. I have not deserved that. Nobody has ever treated me. . . . How can you? It’s . . . it’s a shame, sir.

Yeletsky [to Tropatchov]. Finissez. . . . You see he’s distressed.

Tropatchov [to Kuzovkin]. You won’t sing?

Kuzovkin. I cannot sing, sir.

Tropatchov. You won’t? [Approachinghim.’] One...

Kuzovkin [in an imploring voice to Yeletsky]. Pavel Nikolayevitch. . . .

Tropatchov. Two . . . [Coming nearer to Kuzovkin.]

Kuzovkin [staggering, in a voice of despairing anguish]. How can you? . . . What do you treat me like this for? I haven’t the honour of knowing you. .. . And I’m a gentleman after all . . . think of that. ... I can’t sing . . . you could see that for yourself. . . .

Tropatchov. For the last time. . . .

Kuzovkin. Leave off, I tell you. .. . I’m not a clown.

Tropatchov. As though that were anything new for you?

Kuzovkin [growing angry]. You’ll kindly find somebody else to play the fool for you. . . .

Yeletsky. Do leave him alone, really.

Tropatchov. Why, but you know he used to play the fool for your father - in - law.

Kuzovkin. That’s all in the past. [Wipes his face.] Besides, my head’s rather bad to - day, it is, truly.

Yeletsky. Well, you can please yourself.

Kuzovkin [miserably]. Oh, Pavel Nikolayevitch, please don’t be vexed with me.

Yeletsky. Nonsense! What an idea!

Kuzovkin. Another time, truly, I would with pleasure.

[ Trying to assume a good - humoured air.] Generously forgive me to - day, if I’ve been disobliging. . . . I’ve been too hot, gentlemen, but there. . . . I’m old, that’s what it is. . . . And I’ve got out of the way of it, too.

Tropatchov. Well, drink up this glass, anyway.

Kuzovkin [relievedJ. That I will, with pleasure, with the greatest pleasure. [Takes the glass and drinks.] To the health of our honoured guest. . . .

Tropatchov. Come, is a song still impossible?

Kuzovkin [has been for some time more and more affected by the wine; after the last glass, with his apprehensions over, he begins to be intoxicated]. Upon my soul, I can’t, sir. [Laughing.] As a matter of fact ... in old days I used to sing. . . with the best of them. But things are different now. What am I now? Good for nothing . . . that’s the fact. No better than he, here. [Points to Ivanov.] I’m no use now. You must forgive me, though. I’ve grown old . . . that’s what it is. To - day, for instance, I fancy I’ve only drunk two or three glasses, and yet there’s a muddle in here. [Pointing to his head.]

Tropatchov [who has been whispering meanwhile to Karpatchov]. Nonsense. . . . That’s just your fancy. [Karpatchov goes out laughing, leading Pyotr off with him.] Why didn’t you finish telling us about your lawsuit?

Kuzovkin. To be sure, to be sure; I didn’t finish my story. I don’t mind, though, if you wish it. [Laughs.] Only be so kind . . . allow me to sit down. My legs . . . somehow . . . won’t obey. . . .

Tropatchov [gives him a chair]. Oh yes, do.

Kuzovkin [«Vj down facing the audience, and speaks slowly and languidly, rapidly becoming more and more drunk]. Where did I stop? Hanginmester. That Hanginmester was a German, of course. He doesn’t care. He served in the Commissariat department — so I expect he made his fortune stealing by the sackful there — so now he says — the I.O.U.’s mine. And I’m a gentleman. What was I going to say?

Oh, he says: either pay or give me your estate, either pay . . . or give . . . your estate . . . either pay ... or give me . . . your estate.

Tropatchov. You’re asleep, my friend, wake up.

Kuzovkin [starts and again sinks into drowsiness. He can hardly speak by now]. Who? I? What an idea . . . never mind. I’m not asleep. We sleep at night, and it’s daytime now. It isn’t night now, is it? I’m talking about Hanginmester. That Hanginmester — Han - gin - mester — Hanginmester — he was my real enemy. They tell me this and that, but I say no, Hanginmester — Han - gin - mester he’s the man that wronged me. [Karpatchov comes in with a huge fool’s cap made of sugar wrapping - paper and, winking at Tropatchov, steals up behind Kuzovkin. Trembinsky is choking with laughter. Ivanov, pale and crushed, looks up from under his brows.] And I know why he doesn’t like me ... I know he’s been trying to injure me all my life . . . ever since I was a child. [Karpatchov cautiously puts the fool’s cap on Kuzovkin’s head.] But I forgive him. . . God bless him.... God bless him....

[Everyone is laughing. Kuzovkin stops and looks round in bewilderment. Ivanov goes up to him, takes him by the arm and says through his teeth: ‘Look what they’ve put on your head . . . you see they’re making a fool of you. . . .’ Kuzovkin raises his hands to his head, feels the cap, slowly lowers his hands to his face, covers his eyes, and suddenly begins sobbing, muttering through his tears: ‘What for, what for, what for . . .’ but does not remove the cap. Tropatchov, Trembinsky and Karpatchov go on laughing. Pyotr laughs too, peeping in at the door.]

Yeletsky. Hush, Vassily Semyonitch, aren’t you ashamed to cry over such a trifling matter?

Kuzovkin [taking his hands from his face]. Over such a trifling matter. . . . No, it’s not a trifling matter, Pavel Nikolaitch. [Stands up and throws the cap on the floor.]

The very day of your arrival... the very first day.... [His voice breaks.} This is how you treat an old man ... an old man, Pavel Nikolaitch! Like this! What are you trampling me in the mud for? What have I done to you? And I was so looking forward, I was delighted to see you. What’s it for, Pavel Nikolaitch?

Tropatchov. Come, shut up . . . what are you saying?

Kuzovkin [growing paler and more distracted.]. I’m not speaking to you . . . you’ve been allowed to make a mock of me . . . you’re pleased. It’s you I’m speaking to, Pavel Nikolaitch. Because for the gift of a crust of bread and an old cast - off pair of boots your late father - in - law thought fit to make a clown of me — must you do the same? Oh well... his precious gifts were paid for with my blood, with bitter tears. ... So you must make me pay, too? Oh, Pavel Nikolaitch! for shame, for shame, sir! And you a cultured gentleman from Petersburg.

Yeletsky [haughtily]. Let me tell you, you are forgetting yourself. Go to your room and sleep it off. .. . You can’t stand upright. . . .

Kuzovkin [more and more carried away]. I will sleep it off, Pavel Nikolaitch, I will. . . . Perhaps I am drunk; but who made me drunk? That’s not what matters, Pavel Nikolaitch. But you had better take note! Here you’ve made me a laughing - stock before everybody, you’ve rolled me in the dirt, on the very first day you are here . . . while if I liked, if I were to say the word. . . .

Ivanov [in a low voice]. Vassily, think what you’re doing. . ..

Kuzovkin. Leave me alone! Yes, honoured sir, if I chose . . .

Yeletsky. Oh, he’s hopelessly drunk! He doesn’t know what he’s saying!

Kuzovkin. Excuse me, sir. I am drunk, but I do know what I’m saying. Here you now are a grand gentleman, a Petersburg official, a cultured man, of course . . .

while I’m a clown, a fool, without a farthing of my own; I’m a beggar, living on the bread of others. . . . But do you know who I am? Here you are married . . . and who is it you have married?

Yeletsky [tries to draw Tropatchov away]. Pray excuse it, I never expected such idiocy.. . . Tropatchov. It’s my fault, I confess. . . . Yeletsky [to Trembinsky]. Take him away, please.

[Tries to go into the drawing - room.] Kuzovkin. Wait a minute, gracious sir . . . you haven’t told me yet who it is you have married. . . .

[Olga appears at the drawing - room door and stands still in amazement. Her husband makes signs to her to go away. She does not understand them.] Yeletsky [to Kuzovkin]. Go away, go away. . . . Trembinsky [approaches Kuzovkin and takes him by the arm]. Come along.

Kuzovkin [pushing him away]. Don’t touch me, you! [Following Yeletsky.] You’re a gentleman, a distinguished man, aren’t you? You’ve married Olga Petrovna Korin . . . the Korins are an old noble family, too . . . but do you know who she is, Olga Petrovna? She’s . . . she’s my daughter! [Olga disappears.]

Yeletsky [stands as though thunderstruck]. You . . . you’ve gone out of your mind.

Kuzovkin [after a pause, clutching his headJ. Yes, I’ve gone out of my mind. [Runs off staggering. . . Ivanov following him.]

Yeletsky [turning to Tropatchov]. He’s mad. . . . Tropatchov. Oh. . . . Oh, of course! [Both go quietly into the drawing - room. Trembinsky and Karpatchov stare at each other in amazement.]

The Curtain Falls

ACT II

A drawing - room richly furnished in old - fashioned style. On Right (from audience) a door into the dining - room, on Left door into Olga Petrovna’s study. Olga is sitting on the sofa; near her stands Praskovya Ivanovna.

Praskovya Ivanovna [after a brief silence]. So then, mistress dear, which of the maids will you please to have wait on you personally?

Olga [with some impatience]. Whichever you like.

Praskovya Ivanovna. Akulina, the one who squints, is a good girl; so is Marfa, Martchuk’s daughter; will you choose them?

Olga. Very well. But what’s the name of that girl... who’s rather nice - looking ... in a light - blue dress?

Praskovya Ivanovna [puzzled]. Light - blue? . . . Oh, yes, to be sure! It’s Masha you are graciously inquiring about. It’s as your ladyship wishes — but she is such a saucy girl, there’s no doing anything with her! Unruly altogether — and not nice in her behaviour either. But as you please, my lady.

Olga. I liked her face, but if she’s badly behaved. .. .

Praskovya Ivanovna. Very badly, very. She wouldn’t do, she doesn’t deserve it. [After a brief pause.] Oh, my lady, how pretty you have grown. How like your dear mamma you are! You’re our little darling. It’s a joy to look at you. . . . Let me kiss your little hand, my lady.

Olga. Very well then, Praskovya, you can go.

Praskovya Ivanovna. Yes, ma’am. Is there nothing you want?

Olga. No, nothing.

Praskovya Ivanovna. So I’ll send Akulina and Marfa. . . .

Olga. Yes, you can go now. [Praskovya is going out.] Oh, send word to Pavel Nikolaitch that I want to see him. . . .

Praskovya Ivanovna. Yes, ma’am. [Goes out.]

Olga [alone]. What does it mean? What did I hear yesterday? ... I couldn’t sleep all night. That old man must have been mad. . . [Stands up and walks about the room.] ‘She is my . . .’ Yes, yes, those were the words. But it’s madness. . . . [Stops] Paul has no suspicion yet . . . Oh, here he is.

[Yeletsky comes in.]

Yeletsky [going up to her with an anxious expression]. You wanted to see me, Olya?

Olga. Yes, I wanted to ask you. ... In the garden . . . the paths by the pond are all overgrown with grass. . . . They’ve been weeded in front of the house — but those have been forgotten. . . . Tell them.

Yeletsky. I have given orders about it already.

Olga. Ah! thanks.... And tell them to buy some bells in the town — to put on my cows’ necks. . . .

Yeletsky. It shall be done, [ft about to go.] No more orders for me?

Olga. Why . . . are you so busy?

Yeletsky. They have brought the accounts from the counting - house.

Olga. Oh! Well then, I won’t keep you. . . . We might drive to the copse before dinner. . . .

Yeletsky. Of course. [Again is about to go.]

Olga [lets him reach the door]. Paul. . . .

Yeletsky [turning round]. Yes?

Olga. Tell me, please . . . I’d no chance to ask you about it yesterday . . . what was the meaning of that scene yesterday morning... at lunch?

Yeletsky. Oh . . . nothing really. It’s only vexing that anything so unpleasant should have happened on the very day of our arrival. However, I was a little to blame. They must needs make that old man, Kuzovkin, drunk — that is, it was really our neighbour Monsieur Tropatchov who thought of it . . . and at first he certainly was rather amusing; he babbled away telling us a long yarn, but later on he began to be noisy and say all sorts of silly things, but it didn’t matter.... It’s not worth talking about.

Olga. Ah! I fancied . . .

Yeletsky. Oh, no, no. . . . We must be more careful in future, that’s all. [After a moment’s reflection.’] However .. I have already taken measures. . . .

Olga. Oh?

Yeletsky. Yes. You see, though it was of no consequence . . . still the servants were there, they saw . . . and heard it all. It was improper ... in a respectable house. . . So I’ve already made arrangements.

Olga. What arrangements?

Yeletsky. Well... do you see... I’ve explained to the old man that it would be unpleasant for him to remain here, in our house, after such a scene, as you call it yourself. . . . He completely agreed with me at once — he is perfectly sober now. . . . Of course, he is a poor man, he has nothing to live on . . . well, he can be given a little room on another estate of yours, a pension, rations. ... He will be quite contented ... of course he shall have everything he wants.

Olga. Paul, it seems to me that for such a trifling matter . . . you are punishing him too severely. ... He has been living here in this house for years. ... He is used to it. . . he’s known me from a child . . . really, I think he might stay here.

Yeletsky. Olya ... no ... there are reasons. .. . Of course, we can’t be hard on the old man . . . especially as he wasn’t himself at the time . . . but all the same, please let me do as I think fit about it. . . . I repeat there are reasons . . . rather important ones.

Olga. As you please.

Yeletsky. Besides, I believe he has packed up all his belongings already.

Olga. But he won’t go away without saying good - bye to me?

Yeletsky. I imagine he will come to say good - bye. But if that’s unpleasant for you, you know — you need not see him. . . .

Olga. On the contrary, I should like to have a few words with him. . . .

Yeletsky. As you like, Olya . . . but I wouldn’t advise you to. . .. You will be distressed, for after all, he’s old, and has known you from a child. . . . And I must own I shouldn’t like to alter my decision. . . .

Olga. Oh, no, don’t be afraid. . . . Only I really expect he’ll go without saying good - bye. . . . Please send and find out about him, whether he has gone already?

Yeletsky. Certainly. \Rings.~\ Vous fetes jolie comme un ange aujourd’hui.

Pyotr [coming in]. What is your pleasure?

Yeletsky. Go, my lad, and find out whether Mr. Kuzovkin has gone yet. [Glancing at Olga.] And let him come and say good - bye.

Pyotr. Yes, sir. [Goes out.]

Olga. Paul... and I have a favour to ask you.

Yeletsky [caressingly]. Tell me what. . . .

Olga. Please . . . when he . . . Kuzovkin . . . comes, leave me alone with him.

Yeletsky [after a brief pause, with a cold smile]. But I think ... on the contrary ... it will be awkward for you.

Olga. No, please do; I’ve something to say to him . . . I must ask him
         
Yes, I want to talk to him alone.

Yeletsky [looking at her intently]. Why, can you have heard something yesterday?

Olga [looking at her husband with the most innocent expression]. What?

Yeletsky [hurriedly]. Well, as you please, as you please.

Here, I think he’s coming.

[Kuzovkin comes in. He is very pale.~\

Olga. Good morning, Vassily Petrovitch. . . . [Kuzovkin bows without speaking.] Good morning.
[To Yeletsky.] Eh bien, mon ami? Je vous en prie.

Yeletsky [to his wife]. Oui, oui. [To Kuzovkin.] You are quite ready?

Kuzovkin [with an effort, in a toneless voice]. I’m quite ready.

Yeletsky. Olga Petrovna wants to talk to you a little . . . to say good - bye. ... If there’s anything you want, please tell her. . . . [To Olga.] Au revoir . . . you won’t be with him long, of course?

Olga. I don’t know. ... I expect not.

Yeletsky. Very good. . . [Goes off into the dining - room.]

Olga [sits down on the sofa and motions Kuzovkin to an easy - chair]. Sit down, Vassily Petrovitch.... [Kuzovkin bows, refusing.] I beg you to sit down. [For some time Olga does not know how to begin the conversation.] I hear you are going away!

Kuzovkin [without raising his eyes]. Yes.

Olga. Pavel Nikolaitch was telling me so. . . . I am very sorry, believe me. . . .

Kuzovkin. You mustn’t be troubled. . . . Very grateful. . . . It’s all right.

Olga. In your . . . new home . . . you will be as well off. . . better really ... set your mind at rest . . . I’ll see to that.

Kuzovkin. I’m truly thankful. I feel that ... I don’t deserve. ... A piece of bread . . . and shelter ... is all I should have. [After a brief pause, he gets up.] Now allow me to say good - bye. ... I have been greatly to blame, certainly . . . forgive an old man.

Olga. Why in such a hurry?... Stay a little.

Kuzovkin. As you wish. [Sits down again.’]

Olga [again after a short pause]. Listen, Vassily Petrovitch ... tell me frankly what happened to you yesterday morning?

Kuzovkin. I’m sorry for it, Olga Petrovna, dreadfully sorry.

Olga. But how was it you. ...

Kuzovkin. Please do not ask me about it, Olga Petrovna. . . . It’s not worth it. It was my fault entirely . . . and that’s all. Pavel Nikolaitch is perfectly right. I deserved far worse punishment. ... I shall pray for him all my days.

Olga. I must confess I can’t see how you’re so much to blame. . . . You’re not young . . . most likely you’re not used to wine now . . . you were a little noisy. . . .

Kuzovkin. No, Olga Petrovna, please don’t justify me, I humbly thank you — only I feel how wrong it was.

Olga. Or did you perhaps say something insulting to my husband or Monsieur Tropatchov. . . .

Kuzovkin [looking down]. I am sorry.

Olga [with some emotion]. Tell me, Vassily Petrovitch, do you remember clearly all that you said?

Kuzovkin [startled, looks at Olga, and slowly brings out], I don’t know ... what...

Olga. I’m told you said something. . . .

Kuzovkin [hurriedly]. I talked nonsense, Olga Petrovna, utter nonsense. I said anything that came into my head. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing.