LEBEDEV. You should ride over to Mühlbach, ask him . . . After all, he owes you sixteen thousand . . .
IVANOV waves his hand in hopeless dismissal.
Here’s how it is, Nikolasha . . . I know you’ll start swearing, but . . . respect an old boozehound! Between friends . . . Regard me as a friend . . . You and I are both students, liberals . . . Mutual ideas and interests . . . Both alumni of Moscow U. . . . Alma mater . . . (Takes his wallet out of his pocket.) I’ve got some money stashed away, not a soul at home knows about it. Take a loan . . . (Takes out money and puts it on the desk.) Pocket your pride, and take it for friendship’s sake . . . I’d take it from you, word of honor . . .
IVANOV (walks around). It doesn’t matter . . . at the moment I’ve no pride left. I even think if you were to slap my face, I wouldn’t say a word.
LEBEDEV. There it is on the desk. One thousand one hundred. You ride over there today and hand it to her in person. “There you are,” say, “Zinaida Savishna, I hope it chokes you!” Only look, don’t give any clue that you borrowed it from me, God forbid . . .
Pause.
Your heart is aching?
IVANOV waves his hand in dismissal.
Yes, business . . . . (Sighs.) A time of grief and sorrow has come to you. A man, my good friend, is like a samovar. It doesn’t always stand in a shady spot on the shelf, but sometimes it’s heated with burning coals: psh . . . psh . . . That simile isn’t worth a damn, well, let someone smarter come up with a better one . . . (Sighs.) Misery hardens the heart. I don’t feel sorry for you, Nikolasha, you’ll land on your feet, the pain will lessen but I’m offended, my boy, and annoyed by other people . . . Do me a favor, tell me what’s the reason for all this gossip? There’s so much gossip circulating about you in the district, my boy, watch out, our friend the district attorney might pay you a visit . . . You’re a murderer and a blood-sucker and a thief and a traitor . . .
IVANOV. It’s all rubbish, now I’ve got a headache.
LEBEDEV. All because you think too much.
IVANOV. I don’t think at all.
LEBEDEV. Well, Nikolasha, don’t you give a damn about all that and come and see us. Shurochka’s fond of you, she understands and appreciates you. She’s a decent, good person, Nikolasha. Nothing like her mother and father, but I guess some young fellow came passing by . . . I look at her sometimes, pal, and I can’t believe that a bottle-nosed drunkard like me has such a treasure. Drop by, talk to her about clever things and — it’ll cheer you up. She’s an honest, sincere person.
Pause.
IVANOV. Pasha, dear man, leave me alone . . .
LEBEDEV. I understand, I understand . . . (Hastily looks at his watch.) I understand. (Kisses Ivanov.) Good-bye . . . I still have to go to the dedication of a school.45 (Goes to the door and stops.) A clever girl . . . Yesterday Shurochka and I started talking about the gossip. (Laughs.) And she blurted out an aphorism: “Papa dear,” she says, “glowworms glow in the dark only to make it easier for night birds to see them and eat them, and good people exist so that there can be slander and gossip.” How do you like that? A genius, a George Sand . . .461 thought only Borkin had great ideas in his head, but now it turns out . . . I’m going, I’m going . . . (Exits.)
VI
IVANOV, then LVOV.
IVANOV (alone). I’ll sign the papers and I’ll take my gun and go out for a walk . . . To clear my head of this nastiness . . . (Fastidiously hunched over, he takes a snack and some bread off the little table.)
LVOV (enters). I’ve got to have it out with you, Nikolay Alekseevich . . .
IVANOV (taking the carafe of vodka). If we were to have it out every day, Doctor, we’d be too debilitated for anything else.
LVOV. Will you be so good as to listen to me?
IVANOV. I listen to you every day and so far I can’t understand a thing: what do you personally want from me?
LVOV. I speak clearly and firmly, and the only person who could fail to understand me is one without a heart.
IVANOV. My wife is facing death—that I know; I have unpardonably wronged her—that I also know; you’re a decent, upright man — I know that too! What more do you want?
LVOV. I am outraged by human cruelty . . . A woman is dying. She has a father and mother whom she loves and would like to see before she dies; they know perfectly well that she will die soon and that she goes on loving them, but, damn their cruelty, they evidently want Jehovah to see how steadfast they are in their religion; they still go on cursing her . . . You, the man for whom she sacrificed everything, her religion and her parents’ home and her peace of mind, in the most blatant manner and with the most blatant intentions you head over to those Lebedevs every day . . .
IVANOV. Oh, I haven’t been there for two weeks now . . .
LVOV (not listening to him). People such as you have to be spoken to bluntly, with no beating around the bush, and if you don’t like what I have to say, then don’t listen! I’m used to calling things by their rightful names . . . You need this death in order to carry out new feats of valor, all right, but can’t you at least wait? If you were to let her die in the natural scheme of things, without stabbing her with your barefaced cynicism, would the Lebedevs and their dowry disappear? Not now, but in a year or two, you, a wonderful Tartuffe, will manage to turn a young girl’s head and make off with her dowry just the same as now . . . Why are you in such a hurry? Why do you need your wife to die now, and not in a month or a year’s time?
IVANOV. This is excruciating . . . Doctor, you’re a really bad physician if you suppose that a man can control himself forever. It’s taking the most appalling will-power not to reply to your insults.
LVOV. That’s enough, who are you trying to fool? Drop the mask.
IVANOV. Clever man, think of this: in your opinion, nothing’s easier than understanding me . . . Right? I married Anna to get a big dowry . . . I didn’t get the dowry, I missed the mark, and now I’m driving her to her grave, in order to marry another woman and get that dowry . . . Right? How simple and uncomplicated . . . A man is such a simple and unsophisticated machine . . . No, Doctor, each of us has far more cogs, screws, and valves in him than to enable us to judge one another on first impressions or a few outward signs. I don’t understand you, you don’t understand me, we don’t understand one another. You may be an excellent general practitioner and still have no understanding of people. Don’t be so smug and look at it my way.
LVOV. Do you really think that you’re so unfathomable, that I am so brainless that I can’t tell the difference between disgraceful behavior and decent behavior?
IVANOV. Obviously, you and I will never find common ground . . . For the last time I ask you, and, please answer without more ado, what do you personally want from me? What do you hope to achieve? (Annoyed.) And whom have I the honor of addressing: the Counsel for my prosecution or my wife’s physician? . . .
LVOV. I am a physician, and, as a physician, I demand that you change your way of life . . . It is killing Anna Petrovna!