DUDKIN. Listen, she’s going to be a countess . . .
KOSYKH. Sure she is . . . the Count is laughing at her, stringing her along, believe you me. He just likes to chat her up and get supper free, gratis and for nothing. For a whole year now he’s been leading her around by the nose. But, pal, why should I feel sorry for Marfutka — a skinflint! a regular skinflint! . . . Mishka Borkin and the Count are fluttering round her, prancing and dancing every which way, so she’ll give them money: but not a penny! . . . Last year all Mishka got from her for his matchmaking was two hundred paper rubles, and Ivanov immediately sent them back to her . . . So Mishka wound up empty-handed, went to all that trouble and nothing to show for it.
III
The same, LEBEDEV, and SASHA (dressed in white.)
LEBEDEV (entering, with Sasha). Let’s talk in here. (to Dudkin and Kosykh.) Go into the other room, you Zulus, and join the young ladies. We have to talk in private.
DUDKIN (as he passes Sasha, snaps his fingers in ecstasy). Pretty as a picture! . . . Fine champagne! . . .
LEBEDEV. Pass by, caveman, pass by . . .
KOSYKH and DUDKIN leave.
Sit down, Shurochka . . . that’s right . . . (Sits and looks round.) Listen carefully and with due respect. Here’s the thing: your mother insisted that I inform you of the following . . . (Blows his nose.) Since the groom’s best man hasn’t shown up yet and we still haven’t said the benediction over you, to avoid misunderstandings and any potential arguments later on, you’ve got to know once and for all that we . . . I mean, not we, but your mother . . .
SASHA. Papa, could you cut it short?
LEBEDEV. You’ve got to know that you have been granted a dowry of fifteen thousand silver rubles in banknotes. That’s that . . . see that there are no arguments later on! Hold on . . . be quiet. That’s only for starters, here comes the main course. You’ve been granted a dowry of fifteen thousand, but, in view of the fact that Nikolay Alekseevich owes your mother nine thousand, a deduction is being made from your dowry in the amount of the debt, and, that way, you’ll only get six thousand. Vous comprenez?49 You’ve got to know this so that there won’t be any arguments later on. Hold on, I haven’t finished. Five hundred were set aside for the wedding; but because the wedding is at the bridegroom’s expense, that five hundred will be deducted from the six thousand. Which leaves, you see, five thousand five hundred, which you will receive after the ceremony, moreover, your generous mother will not use the occasion to pass off on you coupons that fall due ten years from now or shares in the Skopin bank.50
SASHA. Why are you telling me this?
LEBEDEV. Your mother insisted.
SASHA (rises). Papa, if you had the slightest respect for me or yourself, you wouldn’t let yourself talk to me this way. (Angrily.) Do I need your dowry . . . I didn’t ask for it then and don’t ask for it now . . . Do leave me alone, don’t humiliate my ears with your cheese-paring! . . .
LEBEDEV. I’m not talking about the dowry, but your mother . . .
SASHA. I’ve told you a hundred times that I won’t take a penny . . . But we will pay back the debt we owe you. We’ll borrow the money somewhere and repay you. Leave me in peace.
LEBEDEV. What are you taking it out on me for? In Gogol’s play the two rats at least sniffed around first, and only then went away.51
SASHA. Leave me in peace . . .
LEBEDEV (flaring up). Fooey . . . The way you’re all carrying on, I’ll end up sticking a knife in myself or cutting somebody else’s throat! . . . That one sets up a fearful howl all the livelong day, nagging, pestering, pinching pennies, while this one, an intelligent, humane, damn it all, emancipated woman, can’t understand her own father . . . I’m humiliating her ears . . . Well, before coming here to insult your ears, out there (points to the door) I was being cut up into little pieces, drawn and quartered . . . (Walks around in perturbation.) She can’t understand . . . (Mimics.) I won’t take a penny . . . Oh no, she wanted to be different . . . What are you and your husband going to live on?
SASHA. Our own income, he’s not a beggar . . .
LEBEDEV (waves his hand in dismissal). That one nags, this one philosophizes, there’s no way to say a word to Nikolay: another very clever fellow . . . You’ve got my head swimming, you’ve mixed me all up . . . oh, you! (Goes to the door and stops.) I don’t like it. I don’t like anything about you!
SASHA. What don’t you like?
LEBEDEV. I don’t like any of it . . . any of it . . .
SASHA. Any of what?
LEBEDEV. So now I’m supposed to pull up a chair and start telling you a story. I don’t like anything about it . . . And I don’t want to be at your wedding . . . (Walks over to Sasha, affectionately.) You’ll forgive me, Shurochka . . . Maybe your getting married is clever, honorable, uplifting, highly principled, but something about it isn’t right . . . isn’t right . . . isn’t right . . . It isn’t like other marriages. You’re young, fresh, pure as a pane of glass, beautiful, whereas he’s a widower, thirty-five years old . . . worn to a shadow, to a nub . . . . Listen, in another five years he’ll have wrinkles and a bald spot . . . (Kisses his daughter.) Shurochka, forgive me, but something smells rotten . . . There’s already a lot of talk . . . About how Sarra died at his place, then suddenly for some reason he wanted to marry you . . .
SASHA. He’s your friend, papa . . .
LEBEDEV. Friend or not, all the same something, do you understand, is not quite right . . . (Vigorously.) Anyway, I’m being an old biddy, an old biddy . . . I’m as biddified as an old hoop-skirt . . . Don’t listen to me . . . . Don’t listen to anybody . . .
IV
The same and ZINAIDA SAVISHNA.
ZINAIDA SAVISHNA (enters, dressed in a new gown, her head bound in a wet towel). Turns out the groom’s best man has arrived. We have to go to the benediction . . .52 (Weeps.)
SASHA (pleading). Mamma!
LEBEDEV. Zyuzyushka, it’s high time you turned off the waterworks! . . . For heaven’s sake, for a whole year now you’ve been, excuse the expression, blubbering.
Pause.
You reek of vinegar, like a salad . . .
SASHA (pleading). Mamma!
ZINAIDA SAVISHNA. If you don’t need a mother, (weeps) if you manage without obeying your mother, then . . . what do you need me for? You have my blessing, I’ll satisfy you that way, you have my blessing . . .
LEBEDEV. Zyuzyushka, you should be joyful . . .
ZINAIDA SAVISHNA (taking the handkerchief from her face, no longer weeping). What’s there to be joyful about? He’s marrying her for the dowry and so as not to pay off his debt, and you are overjoyed . . . (Weeps.) Our only daughter, and God alone knows how she . . . If, according to you, he’s an honest, commonsensical man, he should have paid off the debt before he proposed to her . . .