IVANOV. Don’t question me, Anyuta . . .
Pause.
I’m much at fault . . . Think up whatever punishment you want, I’ll bear it, but . . . don’t question me . . . I haven’t got the strength to talk . . .
ANNA PETROVNA (angrily raps a finger on the desk). Why was she here?
Pause.
Ah, so that’s what you’re like! Now I understand you. Finally I see what sort of man you are. Dishonorable, vile . . . You remember, you came and lied to me, saying you loved me . . . I believed it and left father, mother, religion and followed you . . . You lied to me about truth, goodness, your honorable intentions, I believed every word . . .
IVANOV. Anyuta, I never lied to you . . .
ANNA PETROVNA. I lived with you for five years, I broke down and sickened at the idea that I’d renounced my faith, but I loved you and never left you for a single minute . . . You were my idol . . . And now what? All this time you’ve been deceiving me in the most shameless manner . . . .
IVANOV. Anyuta, don’t make things up . . . I was mistaken, yes . . . but I’ve never lied in my life . . . You don’t dare reproach me for that . . .
ANNA PETROVNA. Now it’s all come out . . . You married me and thought my father and mother would forgive me, give me money . . . That’s what you thought.
IVANOV. Oh my God! Anyuta, to try my patience like this . . . (Weeps.)
ANNA PETROVNA. Be quiet . . . When you realized there was no money, you came up with a new game . . . Now I remember it all and I understand . . . (Weeps.) You never loved me and were never faithful to me. Never!
IVANOV. Sarra, that’s a lie! . . . Say what you want, but don’t insult me with lies . . .
ANNA PETROVNA. You always lied to me . . . Dishonorable, vile man . . . You owe Lebedev money, and now, in order to squirm out of your debt, you want to turn his daughter’s head, deceive her the way you did me . . . Isn’t that so?
IVANOV (choking). Shut up, for God’s sake! . . . I can’t answer for myself . . . I’m choking with rage, and I . . . I’m liable to insult you . . .
ANNA PETROVNA. You always were a shameless deceiver, and not just of me . . . You pinned all those underhanded actions on Borkin, but now I know whose they really are . . .
IVANOV. Sarra, shut up, get out, or else I’ll say something I’ll regret . . . It’s all I can do to keep from calling you something horrible, humiliating . . . (Shouts.) Shut up, you kike bitch!
ANNA PETROVNA. I will not shut up . . . Too long you’ve been deceiving me, for me to be able to keep silent . . .
IVANOV. So you won’t shut up? (Struggles with himself.) For God’s sake . . .
ANNA PETROVNA. Now go and cheat the Lebedev girl . . .
IVANOV. Then know that you . . . will die soon . . . The doctor told me that you’ll die soon . . .
ANNA PETROVNA (sits down, her voice faltering). When did he say that?
Pause.
IVANOV (clutching his head). It’s all my fault! God, it’s all my fault! . . . (Sobs.)
XI
The same and LVOV.
LVOV (enters and, on seeing Anna Petrovna, quickly heads for her). What’s going on? (Examines her face. To Ivanov.) What were you doing just now?
IVANOV. God, it’s all my fault! . . . all my fault! . . .
LVOV. Anna Petrovna, Anna Petrovna, what’s wrong with you? (To Ivanov.) Wait! I swear to you on the honor which you do not possess, you shall pay for her! . . . I’ll unmask you . . . I’ll show you! . . .
IVANOV. It’s all my fault, all my fault . . .
Curtain
Nearly a year goes by between Acts Three and Four.
ACT FOUR
TABLEAU ONE
A small room in the Lebedevs’ house. Simple, antique furnishings. Doors at right and left.
I
DUDKIN and KOSYKH.
Both in dress-coats with nosegays in their lapels; they stand near the door at left and hurriedly smoke hand-rolled cigarettes.
KOSYKH (gleefully). Yesterday I called a little slam in clubs, and took a grand slam . . . Only again that Barabanov spoiled the whole shebang for me . . . We play . . . I bid: no trumps. He goes pass . . . Clubs . . . He goes pass . . . I go two clubs . . . three clubs . . . he goes pass, and imagine . . . can you imagine, I call a slam, and he doesn’t show his ace. If he’d shown his ace, I could have called a grand slam in no-trumps . . .
DUDKIN. Hold on, a carriage is drawing up. It’s the best man, I suppose. (Looks out the window.) No . . . (Looks at his watch.) But it’s high time he got here . . .
KOSYKH. Yes, the bride’s been dressed for a long time now . . .
DUDKIN. Eh, pal, if I were the bridegroom (whistles), I would have done a deal . . . Right this very minute, right now, when the bride is already dressed and ready to go to church, I’d show up here and put the screws on Zyuzyushka: hand over a hundred thousand, or I won’t get married . . . Hand it over . . .
KOSYKH. But she wouldn’t hand it over . . .
DUDKIN. She would . . . When everything’s all set at the church and people are waiting, she would . . . But now Ivanov isn’t getting a red cent. She didn’t even give him the five thousand . . .
KOSYKH. On the other hand, when she dies, he’ll get it all.
DUDKIN. Oh sure, wait for her to die . . . Before she croaks, she’ll bury it in the ground. All these hags are the same. I had a lousy uncle like that, just before he died he chewed up all his interest-bearing bonds and swallowed them. As God is my judge . . . The doctor pays his visit, there he lies with a belly out to here — wow . . . Ivanov thinks that now they’ll lay it on ‘im: “take it all, my dear man . . .” That’ll be the day . . . He was a wash-out with the Jew bitch, had to eat crow, and the same thing’ll happen here . . . The man’s got no luck . . . No luck at all . . . Might just as well lay down and die . . . After all, he’s a smart guy, a wheeler-dealer, a con man, knows his politics backwards and forwards, but look—fate was against him . . . Lady Luck never smiled . . .
II
The same and BABAKINA.
BABAKINA (overdressed, pompously crosses the stage between Dudkin and Kosykh; they both laugh up their sleeves; she looks round). Idiot . . .
DUDKIN touches her waist with his finger and roars with laughter.
Peasant . . . (Exits.)
DUDKIN and KOSYKH burst out laughing.
KOSYKH (roaring with laughter). The dame’s gone off her rocker . . . Until she started angling for a title, she made a lot of sense, but now that she has hopes of being a countess, you can’t come near her. Used to be, you’d fill a sack with cognac and liqueurs, drop by her place for a few days and paint the town red . . . a regular music-hall, but nowadays you mustn’t lay a finger on her . . . (Mimics her.) Peasant!