SHABELSKY. Well, yes, yes! . . . we know! . . . “We know how badly you play checkers”29 . . . (To Lebedev.) Pasha, tell me on your honor, have you saved up a million? . . .
LEBEDEV. For heaven’s sake, I don’t know, you’d better ask Zyuzyushka . . .
SHABELSKY (to Babakina). And my pudgy little puff-ball is soon going to have a little million! . . . Good grief, she’s getting prettier and plumper not by the day, but by the hour! . . . That’s what it means to have lots of dough . . .
BABAKINA. Thanks ever so, your highness, only I don’t like being made fun of.
SHABELSKY. My dearest gold-mine, how am I making fun of you? It’s simply a cry from the heart, a spontaneous overflow of feelings that finds issue at my lips . . . I love you and Zyuzyushka infinitely . . . (Merrily.) Excitement! . . . Ecstasy . . . I can’t gaze on either one of you indifferently . . .
ZINAIDA SAVISHNA. You’re just the same as ever. (to Yegorushka.) Yegorushka, put out the candles! Why do you let them burn for no reason, if you’re not playing?
YEGORUSHKA is startled; puts out the candles and sits down.
(To Ivanov.) Nikolay Alekseevich, how is your lady wife getting on?
IVANOV. Badly. Today the doctor definitely confirmed that she has tuberculosis . . .
ZINAIDA SAVISHNA. You don’t say so? What a pity! . . . (Sighs.) We’re all so fond of her . . .
SHABELSKY. Hogwash, hogwash, hogwash! . . . It’s not tuberculosis, just medical quackery, hocus-pocus. Æsculapius30 wants to hang around, so he comes up with tuberculosis. Luckily the husband’s not the jealous type . . .
IVANOV makes a gesture of impatience.
As for Sarra herself, she’s a Semite. I don’t trust a single one of her words or movements . . . Excusink me pliss, oy vay iss mir . . . Go ahead and kill me, but I don’t trust her . . . Forgive me, Nicolas, but . . . after all . . . I’m not saying anything particularly bad . . . In my opinion, if Sarra took ill, it means she’s schemed up a gescheft,31 but I don’t believe she’s going to die: that’s a gesheft too . . .
LEBEDEV (to Shabelsky). You’re an incredible character, Matvey . . . You put on this misanthrope act and show it off like a retarded kid with a new toy. You’re as human as anyone else, but once you start talking, it’s as if your tongue were spewing poison or you had a hacking cough . . . Yes, honest to God! . . .
SHABELSKY. What am I supposed to do, be lovey-dovey with swindlers and scoundrels, I suppose? . . .
LEBEDEV. Just where do you see swindlers and scoundrels?
SHABELSKY. Present company excepted, of course, but . . .
LEBEDEV. There’s that “but” of yours . . . This is all an act . . .
SHABELSKY. An act . . . You’re lucky you don’t have any sort of worldview.
LEBEDEV. Why should I have a worldview? . . . I sit, expecting to drop dead any minute — that’s my worldview. You and I, my boy, haven’t got time to concoct worldviews . . . That’s how it goes . . . (Shouts.) Gavrila! . . .
SHABELSKY. You’ve Gavrila-ed it up enough already . . . Look how red your nose has got! . . .
LEBEDEV (drinks). Never mind, dear heart . . . I’m not going to get married today . . .
V
The same and BORKIN.
BORKIN, dressed foppishly, holding a package, skipping and humming, enters from the door at right. A murmur of approval.
Together
YOUNG LADIES
. Mikhail Mikhailovich . . .
LEBEDEV
.
Michel Michelich
! . . . Do my ears deceive me . . .
SHABELSKY
. The life of the party! . . .
BORKIN. Here I am again . . . (Runs over to Sasha.) Noble signorina, I make so bold as to congratulate the universe on the birth of such a marvelous blossom as yourself . . . As a token of my delight, I venture to present you (hands over the package) with fireworks and Bengal lights32 of my own making. May they light up the night just as you brighten the shadows of this kingdom of darkness! . . . (Theatrical bow.)
SASHA. Thank you . . .
LEBEDEV (roars with laughter, to Ivanov). Why don’t you fire this Judas?
BORKIN (to Lebedev). Pavel Kirillich . . . (To Ivanov.) My patron . . . (Sings.) Nicolas-voilä, ho-hi-ho! (Goes round to everyone.) The most respected Zinaida Savishna . . . The most divine Marfa Yegorovna . . . The most venerable Avdotya Nazarovna . . . The most highnessy Count . . .
SHABELSKY (roars with laughter). The life of the party . . . Hardly in the door and the mood’s lifted . . . Have you noticed?
ZINAIDA SAVISHNA, BABAKINA, and the COUNT get up from behind the table and converse standing up. TWO OLD LADIES leave.
BORKIN. Oof . . . I’m worn out . . . I think I’ve greeted everyone. Well, what’s new, ladies and gentlemen? Nothing special, that hits you over the head? (Vigorously to Zinaida Savishna.) Ah, listen, mamma dear . . . As I’m riding over here just now . . . (to Gavrila.) Let me have some tea, Gavrusha, only no gooseberry preserves. (to Zinaida Savishna.) As I’m riding over here just now, peasants on the riverbank were stripping bark from your willow bushes. Why don’t you lease out your willow bushes?
LEBEDEV (roaring with laughter, to Ivanov). Why don’t you fire this Judas?
ZINAIDA SAVISHNA (alarmed). Why, that’s perfectly true, it never crossed my mind!
BORKIN (does calesthenics with his arms). I can’t sit still . . . Mamma dear, anything special we can turn our hand to? Marfa Yegorovna, I’m in good form . . . I’m in tiptop shape. (Sings.) “Once again I stand before you . . .”33
ZINAIDA SAVISHNA. Organize something, otherwise we’ll die of boredom.
BORKIN. Ladies and gentlemen, why these long faces? They’re sitting around like jurymen in a box . . . Let’s come up with something . . . What would you enjoy? truth or dare, jump-rope, tag, dancing?
YOUNG LADIES (clap their hands). Dancing, dancing . . . . (They run into the garden.)
BORKIN. I’m all set . . . Dudkin, start dancing! . . . (Moves armchairs to the wall.) Yegorushka, where are you? Tune up the fiddle . . .
YEGORUSHKA shudders and goes to the piano. BORKIN sits at the piano and hits an A. YEGORUSHKA tunes the fiddle.
IVANOV (to Lebedev). I have a request, Pasha. The day after tomorrow is when my note falls due, and I’ve got no way to pay the interest. Is there any way to offer an extension or add the interest to the principal?