IVANOV. But what am I to do? What? If you understand me better than I understand myself, then tell me in no uncertain terms: what am I to do?
LVOV. At least, don’t act so openly.
IVANOV. Oh, my God! Do you really understand yourself? (Drinks water.) Leave me alone. I’m a thousand times at fault, I’ll answer for it before God, but no one has entitled you to torture me on a daily basis . . .
LVOV. And who has entitled you to insult my truth-telling, by insulting my person? You have worn me down and poisoned my mind. Until I wound up in this district, I could deal with the fact that stupid, inane, self-deluded people existed, but I never believed there were criminal types who consciously, deliberately used their intelligence to do evil . . . I respected and loved people, but once I came in contact with you . . .
SASHA enters in a riding habit.
VII
The same and SASHA.
LVOV (on seeing Sasha). Now, I hope, we understand one another perfectly well . . . (Shrugs his shoulders and exits)
IVANOV (alarmed). Shura, is that you . . .
SASHA. Yes, it is . . . Weren’t you expecting me? Why haven’t you been to see us for so long?
IVANOV (looking around). Shura, for God’s sake, this is inconsiderate . . . Your coming here might have a dreadful effect on my wife . . .
SASHA. I’ll go right away . . . I was worried: are you all right? Why haven’t you been to see us for so long?
IVANOV. Go away, for God’s sake . . . we cannot meet so long as . . . so long as . . . well, you understand me . . . (Delicately pushes her to the door.)
SASHA. Just tell me one thing: are you all right?
IVANOV. No, I’ve been tormenting myself, people torment me nonstop . . . I’m at the end of my rope and, if it were not for thoughts of you, I would long ago have blown my brains out. You see, I’m trembling . . . Shurochka, for God’s sake, take me away from here as soon as possible . . . (Presses his head against her shoulder) Let me have some rest and forget myself for only a moment . . .
SASHA. Soon, soon, Nikolay . . . Don’t lose heart, it’s disgraceful . . .
VIII
IVANOV, SASHA, and PYOTR.
PYOTR brings in the tarts on a piece of paper and puts them on the desk.
IVANOV (starting). Who? what? (On seeing Pyotr.) What do you want?
PYOTR. Tarts, the Count ordered ‘em . . .
IVANOV. Get out of here . . .
PYOTR exits.
SASHA. I promise you, my dearest . . . here is my hand: good days will come, and you shall be happy. Be brave, look at how courageous and happy I am . . . (Weeps.)
IVANOV. It’s as if we want her to die . . . How unwholesome this is, how abnormal . . . I’m so much at fault . . .
SASHA (in horror). Nikolay, who wants her to die? Let her live, even for a hundred years . . . And how are you at fault? Is it your fault that you fell out of love with her, that fate is driving her to death? Is it your fault that you love me? Think well of it . . . look (weeps) . . . look circumstances straight in the face, be brave . . . It’s not your fault and it’s not mine, it’s circumstance . . .
IVANOV. Be brave . . . a time will come . . . fell in love . . . fell out of love — these are all platitudes. Hackneyed phrases, which are no help at all.
SASHA. I talk the way everybody does and I don’t know how else to talk . . .
IVANOV. And our whole love affair is a trite platitude . . . “He was downhearted and had lost his bearings . . . She showed up, strong and bold in spirit, and offered him a helping hand.” . . . It’s all right and appropriate for novels, but in life . . . it’s not right, it’s not right . . . Look, you love me, my own, you’ve lent me a helping hand, and I’m still pathetic and helpless, just as I was before . . .
IX
The same and BORKIN.
BORKIN (looks in at the door). Nikolay Alekseevich, may I? (On seeing Sasha.) Sorry, I didn’t see . . . (Enters.) Bonjour . . . (Bows.)
SASHA (embarrassed). How do you do . . .
BORKIN. You’ve got plumper, prettier . . .
SASHA (to Ivanov). I’m leaving now, Nikolay Alekseevich . . . I’m leaving . . . (Exits.)
BORKIN. A vision of loveliness . . . I came about prose, and ran into poetry . . .(Sings.) “Thou didst appear, like a bird flown towards the light . . .”47
IVANOV paces up and down the stage in agitation.
(Sits.) There’s something about her, Nicolas . . . a certain something that other women haven’t got . . . Am I right? Something special . . . fantastical . . . (Sighs.) Actually, the richest eligible girl in the whole district, but her dear mama is such a sourpuss that no one wants to make a match. When she dies everything will go to Shurochka, but until she dies she’ll give ten thousand or so, a curling iron and a flat iron, and even then she’ll make you beg for it on your knees. (Rummages in his pockets.) Let’s smoke a de-los-majoros.48 Care for one? (Offers his cigar case.) They’re not bad . . . Quite smokeworthy.
IVANOV (walks over to Borkin, choked with rage). Don’t set foot in my house another minute! . . . Not another minute! . . .
BORKIN rises a bit and drops the cigar.
Not another minute . . .
BORKIN. Nicolas, what does this mean? What are you angry about?
IVANOV. What about? Where did you get those cigars? Do you think I don’t know where you take the old man every day and what for . . .
BORKIN (shrugs his shoulders). What’s it got to do with you?
IVANOV. You’re such a crook . . . Your vulgar schemes, which you broadcast through the whole district, have made me a dishonest man in people’s eyes . . . We’ve got nothing in common, and I ask you to leave my home this very minute . . . (Walks quickly.)
BORKIN. I know that you’re saying all this out of irritation, and therefore I won’t be angry with you. Insult me as much as you like . . . (Picks up the cigar.) It’s time you gave up this melancholy act . . . You’re no schoolboy . . .
IVANOV. What did I tell you? (Trembling.) Are you playing games with me?
Enter ANNA PETROVNA.
X
The same and ANNA PETROVNA.
BORKIN. Well, look, Anna Petrovna’s here . . . I’m going. (Exits.)
IVANOV stops beside the desk and stands, his head bowed.
ANNA PETROVNA (after a pause). Why did she come here just now?
Pause.
I’m asking you: why did she come here?