Pause.
IVANOV (clutching his head). It’s all my fault! God, it’s all my fault! (Sobs.)
Curtain
Nearly a year goes by between Acts Three and Four.
ACT FOUR
One of the drawing-rooms in the Lebedevs’ house. In front an arch separating the drawing-room from a reception room, doors at right and left. An antique bronze, family portraits. Decorations for a party. An upright piano, on it a violin, a cello beside it. Throughout the whole act, guests walk through the reception room, dressed for a ball.
I
LVOV.
LVOV (enters, looks at his watch.) Five o’clock. I suppose the benedictions-will begin any time now . . . They’ll give the benediction and drive off to the wedding. There you have it, the triumph of virtue and truth! He didn’t manage to rob Sarra, so he tortured her to death and drove her to her grave, now he’s found another girl. He’ll play the hypocrite with this one too, until he cleans her out and, once he’s done that, lays her where poor Sarra is lying. The same old mercenary story . . .
Pause.
In seventh heaven, a happy man, he’ll live beautifully to a ripe old age, and die with a clear conscience. No, I’ll strip you bare! When I rip that damned mask off you and everyone learns what kind of bird you are, I’ll make you fly down from seventh heaven into such a pit the foul fiend himself won’t be able to yank you out of it! I’m a decent person, it’s my job to step forward and make the blind to see. I’ll do my duty and tomorrow clear out of this damned district! (Thoughtfully.) But how can I go about it? Spelling it out to the Lebedevs is a waste of time. Challenge him to a duel? Make a scene? My God, I’m as flustered as a little kid and I’ve completely lost the ability to analyze the situation. How do I do it? A duel?
LVOV and KOSYKH.
KOSYKH (enters, gleefully to Lvov). 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. Two no trumps. He goes pass. I go two diamonds . . . three clubs . . . and imagine, can you imagine: I call a slam, and he doesn’t show his ace. If he’d shown his ace, the bastard, I could have called a grand slam in no-trumps.
LVOV. Excuse me, I don’t play cards, and so I can’t share your enthusiasm. Will the benediction be soon?
KOSYKH. I guess so, soon. They’re trying to bring Zyuzyushka round. She’s wailing like a banshee, she’s upset over the dowry.
LVOV. And not over her daughter?
KOSYKH. Dowry. And she’s ticked off. If he gets married, it means he doesn’t have to pay back the debt. You can’t very well sue your son-in-law for defaulting.
III
The same and BABAKINA.
BABAKINA (overdressed, pompously crosses the stage between Lvov and Kosykh; the latter bursts out laughing up his sleeve; she looks round). Idiot!
KOSYKH touches her waist with his finger and roars with laughter.
Peasant! (Exits.)
KOSYKH (roaring with laughter). The dame’s gone off her rocker! Until she started angling for a title, she was a dame like any dame, but now you can’t come near her. (Mimics her.) Peasant!
LVOV (upset). Listen, tell me truly, what do you think of Ivanov?
KOSYKH. A waste of time. He plays like a shoemaker. Last year, during Lent, there was this thing. We sit down to play: me, the Count, Borkin and him. It’s my deal . . .
LVOV (interrupting). Is he a good man?
KOSYKH. What, him? A rogue male! A chiseler like nobody’s business. He and the Count are two of a kind. They’ve got a knack for sniffing out where dirty work is to be done. Came to a dead end with the Jew girl, had to eat crow, but now he’s worming his way into Zyuzyushka’s strongboxes. I’ll bet, or may I be triply damned, in a year’s time he’ll have Zyuzyushka on the streets. He’ll do it to Zyuzyushka, and the Count’ll do it to Babakina. They’ll snatch the cash and live happily ever after, getting richer and richer. Doctor, why are you so pale today? You look a fright.
LVOV. Never mind, that’s how it is. I had too much to drink yesterday.
IV
The same, LEBEDEV, and SASHA.
LEBEDEV (entering, with Sasha). Let’s talk in here. (To Lvov and Kosykh.) Go into the other room, you Zulus, and join the young ladies. We have to talk in private.
KOSYKH (as he passes Sasha, snaps his finger in ecstasy). Pretty as a picture! The Queen of Trumps!
LEBEDEV. Pass by, caveman, pass by!
LVOV and KOSYKH 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 . . . You understand? I’m not talking on my own behalf, but your mother insisted.
SASHA. Papa, cut it short!
LEBEDEV. You have been granted a dowry of fifteen thousand silver rubles. 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 fifteen thousand, but, since Nikolay Alekseevich owes your mother nine thousand, a deduction is being made from your dowry . . . Well now, ma’am, after that, in addition . . .
SASHA. Why are you telling me this?
LEBEDEV. Your mother insisted!
SASHA. Leave me alone! If you had the slightest respect for me or yourself, you wouldn’t let yourself talk to me this way. Do I need your dowry! I didn’t ask for it then and don’t ask for it now!
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] while you, my emancipated lady, don’t bother sniffing around, you just take it out on me!
SASHA. Do leave me alone, don’t humiliate my ears with your nickle-and-diming!
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. She can’t understand! The two of you have 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, it 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, worn to a shadow, to a nub. And I can’t figure him out, God bless him. (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 . . . (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 but yourself.