Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated) (466 page)

Moshkin: Well, it is all over, Petrusha, it is all over. Whoever recalls the past, will . . .

Vilitski: All I said to Maria Vasilevna, and I am repeating it to you now, was that we must have a little understanding ... so as to avoid the repetition of similar occurrences.

Moshkin: What misunderstandings? What does it mean, — misunderstandings? I can’t understand it.

Vilitski: I must have a talk with Maria Vasilevna.

Moshkin: Who will have anything against that? That’s your privilege. She’s to be your wife, and you are her preceptor. Who else is to give her instructions but you? Who else but you is to lay down the rules for her? Married life isn’t a bed of roses. You must be truthful to one another. You have already done a whole lot for her, — that is, for her education, for she is an orphan and I am not an educated man. That’s all true, Petrusha.

Vilitski: You don’t quite understand me, Mikhail Ivanych. However, it will all explain itself, and you’ll pee. Pretty soon, everything will be all right. [Looking at him.] My poor Mikhail Ivanych! You have changed quite a little. I am guilty, I am unpardonably guilty before you.

Moshkin: For three long years you have been my joy and comfort. Only once did you vex me a little. But what of it? It isn’t worth while talking about it. And as for the explanation, I rely upon you. You’re a pretty bright fellow; you’ll make it all for the best. Only, please be indulgent. You know, it is easy to frighten Masha. Don’t pay any attention to the fact that she is a little timid and an orphan. She isn’t kom el font (comme il faut) but all the happiness of life doesn’t lie in that, Petrusha, believe me. There is more happiness in love and a kind heart. Your friends, surely, are educated people, and they converse, so to say, in an abstract manner, but we — we can love you with all our hearts. No one, Petrusha, can deny that.

Vilitski [pressing his hand]: My kind, kind Mikhail Ivanych! I don’t deserve such an attitude towards me. [Moshkin smiles and motions with his hand.] Truly, I don’t see how I deserve this. [Short silence.]

Moshkin: Look me straight in the face. So, you are my same Petrusha.

Vilitski: How kind you are, how kind you are! [Another short silence.] I am awfully sorry, but I have to go to the office.

Moshkin: To the office? Well, I won’t detain you. When will you come to see us, Petrusha?

Vilitski: This evening, Mikhail Ivanych, positively.

Moshkin: Very well. How about . . . Petrusha . . . now? . . .

Vilitski: Now, Mikhail Ivanych, I can’t. Mitka!

Moshkin: Well, you know best. But Masha and I would be glad ...

Mitka [entering]: Yes, sir?

Vilitski: My uniform.

Mitka: Yes, sir. [Goes out.]

Moshkin: Just think, Petrusha! After these tears and worries — ah, Petrusha?

Vilitski: I can’t, Mikhail Ivanych. I shall be in this evening, positively.

Moshkin [with a sigh]: Very well.

Vilitski: I haven’t been to the office all this time. They may have noticed it.

Moshkin: Well, just for a minute, before you go there.

Vilitski: I don’t think I have the strength to face the shame.
You, please, prepare Maria Vasilevna.
Just tell her that she should forgive me.

Moshkin: Oh, nonsense! No preparations are necessary. When we go in, I’ll simply say: “Here he is, our runaway!” And she will embrace you. That’s all the preparation that is necessary. [Mitka comes in with the uniform.] Put on your uniform and come up.

Vilitski: But only for a minute. [Puts on his uniform.] Moshkin: Well, we’ll see. [To Mitka.] You shameless fellow! Look at him. [Mitka smiles.] However, I admire you. A servant must do his master’s will. Well, Petrusha, I thank you very much. You have resurrected us all. Come on.

Vilitski: Come on. [Going to Mitka.] Should Mr. Fonk stop in, tell him that I will be in to see him later to - day.

Moshkin: Well, we’ll see about that. Put your hat on. Come on.

[Both go out. Mitka remains, looking after them. Having seen them out, he goes up to the front of the stage.]

Mitka: “Shameless fellow!” Who in the world can understand him? He gives me orders not to let him in and — Ah, what do I care about it? I’ll lie down and have a nap. [Lies down on the couch.] I wish he’d buy a new couch! The springs of this one are all gone. But he has no time to think of such things. He’s got to run after the girls. Well, I don’t care. Let him have them. That’s all . . . that’s all. [Ee lifts his feet up in the air.] Kapiton certainly can make a dandy pair of shoes!

CURTAIN.

ACT THREE

Scene
: The same as in Act One. Moshkin is dressed in a house - coat. He looks very sad and care - worn. He stands at the left door, listening. In a few minutes, Priazhkina appears from that door.

Moshkin [almost whispering]: Well, well?

Priazhkina [in the same tone]: She has fallen asleep.

Moshkin: And she has no fever?

Priazhkina: Not now.

Moshkin: Thank God! [Silence.’] Ekaterina Savishna! You had better not leave her. Something unexpected, you know, might happen.

Priazhkina: No, I won’t leave her; certainly I won’t leave her. Have some tea made.

Moshkin: I will, I will, my dear. [Priazhkina goes out. Moshkin comes to the front of the stage slowly; sits down; looks fixedly at the floor for a while; passes his hand over his face and shouts.] Stratilat!

Stratilat [entering from the vestibule]: Yes, sir.

Moshkin: Make some tea for Ekaterina Savishna.

Stratilat: Yes, sir. [Starts to go.]

Moshkin [hesitatingly]: Nobody has come?

Stratilat: No, sir.

Moshkin: And — nothing has been brought here?

Stratilat: Nothing.

Moshkin [sighing]: Well, you can go. [Stratilat goes out. Moshkin looks around, wants to get up, but sits down again.] My God! My God! What does it mean? All of a sudden, everything has gone to pieces again. Now, the case is clear. . . . [Droops his head.] What means can we take? What can we do? . . . [Short silence.] There is no way out. It’s all . . . [Motions with his hand in despair.] Unless it should come by itself. As.] Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! [Shpundik enters from the vestibule. Mosiikin looks around.] Oh, is that you, Filipp? I am much obliged to you for not forgetting us.

Shpundik [pressing his hand]: Oh, I am not one of your city fellows. [After a moment’s silence.] Well, has he been here?

Moshkin [after having looked at him]: No, he hasn’t.

Shpundik: Hm! He hasn’t. What’s the cause?

Moshkin: The Lord knows. He’s always excusing himself, — that he has no time
  

Shpundik [sitting down]: Has no time! And how is Maria Vasilevna?

Moshkin: She isn’t very well. She didn’t sleep a wink all night. Now she is resting.

Stipundik [shaking his head]: Just think of it! [St^Tis.] Yes, yes, yes.

Moshkin: What are you doing?

Shpundik: Oh, I’m trying. I must confess, Mikhail Ivanych, as I look upon your city people — No, I don’t like them. The further away from them, the better. You city people, — oi, oi, oi!

Mosiikin [not looking at him]: Why are you so . . . There are good people here, too.

Shpundik: I don’t deny it. It’s possible. Only, one must look very sharply. [After a moment’s silence.] So Petr Ilich hasn’t been here?

Moshkin [turning around to him suddenly]: Filipp! Why should I hide it from you? You see me; I am a dead man.

Shpundik: Lord bless you!

Moshkin: I am a dead man; I am a dead man. And how unexpectedly it has come! You remember, Filipp, when you came here, two weeks ago, you remember how I met you? You remember what plans I had, what hopes? And now everything is crushed. It has all gone to the devil; it has all gone to Hell. Everything has gone, and I am sitting here like a fool, trying to think up something. But I can’t.

Siipundik: Maybe you are exaggerating the thing, Misha.

Moshkin: I am not exaggerating it. You have been here almost every day, and you can see for yourself. After the dinner — you remember? — something was wrong. He didn’t come. He was a little foolish, or something happened, but — I went there, and explained myself and brought him here. Masha cried a little, forgave him and it was all fixed up. So I thought that everything was all right. To tell the truth, he didn’t stay long that time. He felt ashamed, or whatever the cause was. He assured her, in the right way though, in the way a lover ought to, that everything would be as before. He called on us the next day, brought her a little present, turned around, and — he was gone. He said that business called him. The following day he didn’t come at all; then he came again, spent an hour, but didn’t say a word. I talked to him about the wedding, how it should be, and when, and that it was time, and all he said was: “Yes, yes.” And since that day he hasn’t been near us. We can never find him home, and he doesn’t answer our letters. Well, Filipp, what does it all mean? You know as well as I do.

It is as clear as can be. He refuses, he refuses. Now, imagine in what condition I am! The responsibility, so to say, rests upon me. I am the one who started the whole thing. She is an orphan and has no one to take her part. But how could I ever have thought that Petrusha . . . [Stops.]

Shpundik [thoughtfully]: Do you know what I am going to tell you, Mikhail Ivanych?

Moshkin: What?

Shpundik: I think he has got a little foolish, — silly, as they say. St. Petersburg is not the last city in the world for it.

Moshkin [after a moment’s silence]: No, it isn’t that. He isn’t that kind of a fellow. He wouldn’t act like that.

Shpundik: Well, perhaps he has taken a liking to another girl. His friend, that great man, very likely introduced him to some woman . . .

Moshkin: That’s more likely. However, I don’t think it’s that. He has changed, and I cannot understand who has been the cause of it. He doesn’t look at me any more, as he used to; he doesn’t laugh any more, the way he used to, and he speaks differently, and Masha, he simply avoids. Oh, Filipp, Filipp, my lot is a hard one. It is terrible, Filipp, to think that, only recently . . . and now . . . And why? How could it all have happened?

Shpundik: Yes, yes, Misha. It is exactly . . . that . . . Well, it isn’t easy, as you say. Yet, I think that you are worrying for nothing.

Moshkin: Oh, Filipp, you don’t know. I loved him like my own son. I divided everything with him, and what I can’t understand is — if he weTe only mad at something! I should feel much easier: I shouldn’t lose hope. But as it is, he is indifferent. That’s what’s killing me, Filipp. Well, he won’t come to - day and he won’t come to - morrow, and I really don’t think he’ll ever come.

Shpundik: Yes, the poet didn’t say in vain that everything in the world is perverted. Yes
  

Moshkin: Well, it has just come to this: to lie down and die. [Priazhkina comes in.] Well, Ekaterina Savishna, how is it?

Priazhkina: All right, Mikhail Ivanych, all right. Don’t worry. [Shpundik bows to her.] How do you do, Filipp Egorych?

Shpundik: My respects, Ekaterina Savishna. How is your health?

Priazhkina: Thank God, sir, thank God! How is yours?

Shpundik: I am all right, thank God. How is Maria Vasilevna’s health?

Priazhkina: It is better now. But she slept very badly last night. [Sighing aloud. To Moshkin.] How about the tea, sir? Have you ordered it?

Moshkin: Yes, I have, I have. Certainly. Didn’t he bring it? Stratilat! [Stratilat enters with the samovar.] What’s the matter with you?

Stratilat: It has just boiled up. [He takes the samovar into Masha’s room.]

Shpundik [to Priazhkina]: You, I imagine, don’t leave Maria Vasilevna?

Priazhkina: How can I? There is no one to take care of her. You can see that, yourself.

Shpundik: I am quite sure you are an exemplary relative.

Priazhkina: I am very much obliged, Filipp Egorych.

Moshkin: All right, all right. [Stratilat returns from Masha’s room and hands Moshkin a letter.] From whom?

Stratilat: I don’t know.

Moshkin [looking at the hand - writing]: That’s Petru - sha’s hand - writing! [Opens it quickly and reads; Shpundik and Priazhkina look at him attentively. Moshkin grows terribly pale while reading and on finishing drops in a chair. Shpundik and Priazhkina start to go to his assistance, but he immediately gets up and talks in a broken voice.] Who . . . this . . . who . . . there . . . brought . . . who called . . .

Stratilat: What is it you want, sir?

Moshkin: Called . . . who brought . . . who brought . . . [Makes signs with his hand to Shpundik and Priazhkina.]

[Stratilat goes out and returns with the letter - carrier, who wears a shako.]

Letter - Carrier: What do you wish, sir?

Moshkin: You, my dear . . . you brought this letter . . . from Mr. Vilitski?

Lettfr - Carrier: No, sir. It came through the mail. We forbidden to carry private letters.

Moshkin: Oh, yes, exactly. I forgot. I thought . . . [He loses himself completely.]

Shpundik [to Moshkin]: Calm yourself. Stratilat! Pay the carrier. [Stratilat and the letter - carrier go out.] Misha! Come to yourself.

Moshkin [stopping suddenly]: Everything is over, my friends, everything. I am lost, Filipp. We are all lost. Everything is over.

Shpundik: What’s the matter?

Moshkin [unfolding the letter]: Here, listen! You, too, Ekaterina Savishna. He refuses, my friends, he refuses absolutely. There will be no wedding and everything, everything has gone to the dogs. Positively everything. Here is what he writes to me [Shpundik and Priazhkina take places on either side of him]: “My dear Mikhail Ivanych: After a long and continued struggle, I feel that I must offer you an explanation, a frank — [He looks at Shpundik] — a frank explanation. Believe me, this conclusion has cost me a great deal. The Lord knows, I never could have foreseen it, and I wish I didn’t have to cause you such unpleasantness. The least delay would be unpardonable now. I have hesitated too long, as it is. I do not consider myself capable of bringing happiness to Maria Vasilevna, and I pray her to release me from my promise” — ”Release me from my promise.” — [To Shpundik.] Here, look. That’s the way it is written. “I do not consider myself” — see — ”to release me from my promise.” See. [Shpundik looks at the letter. Moshkin con* tinues.] “I dare not even ask her forgiveness, for I feel how deeply guilty I am before her and before you and I hasten to add that I do not know of a young lady more worthy of respect.” ... Do you hear, do you hear? — ”Worthy of respect.” — Do you hear? “Seeing the necessity of severing our relations for some time, I part from you with a broken heart.” ... Ah! Ah! “I cannot help confessing, Mikhail Ivanych, that you have the right to consider me dishonorable. — [Moshkin shakes his head.] — I am not going to try to assure you and your young lady of my devotion, of my sincere interest, for words like these, at the present time, may only tend to excite your indignation, and therefore, I avoid them.