SASHA. Papa, I feel myself that it’s wrong . . . Wrong, wrong, wrong. If only you knew how hard it is for me! Unbearable! It’s awkward and painful to me to confess this. Papa, darling, snap me out of this, for God’s sake . . . teach me what to do.
LEBEDEV. Such as what? What?
SASHA. I’m more frightened than ever! (Looks around.) I feel as if I don’t understand him and never will. The whole time we were engaged, not once did he smile, not once did he look directly into my eyes. Constant complaints, remorse over something, hints at some vague fault, trembling . . . I got tired of it. There are even moments when I feel as if I . . . I don’t love him as intensely as I should. And when he rides over here or talks to me, I start to get bored. What does all this mean, Papa dear? It’s terrifying!
LEBEDEV. My little dove, my only child, listen to your old father. Call it off!
SASHA (alarmed). What do you mean, what do you mean?
LEBEDEV. Honestly, Shurochka. There’ll be a scandal, the whole district will start wagging their tongues, but, after all, it’s better to live through a scandal than destroy your whole life.
SASHA. Don’t say that, don’t say that, Papa! I won’t listen to you. One must fight off these gloomy thoughts. He’s a good, unhappy, misunderstood man; I will love him, I will understand him, I will set him on his feet. I will carry out my mission. It’s settled!
LEBEDEV. That’s not a mission, it’s a psychosis.
SASHA. That’s enough. I confessed to you something I didn’t want to confess even to myself. Don’t tell anyone. Let’s forget it.
LEBEDEV. I don’t understand a thing. Either I’ve got obtuse in my old age or you all have become so very clever, but, even if you cut my throat, I still don’t understand a thing.
V
The same and SHABELSKY.
SHABELSKY (entering). To hell with everybody, myself included! It’s exasperating!
LEBEDEV. What’s got into you?
SHABELSKY. No, seriously, come what may, I’ll have to pull off something on my own so low-down, so vulgar that not only I, but everyone will be nauseated. And I will do the dirty deed. Word of honor. I’ve already told Borkin to announce my engagement today. (Laughs.) Everyone’s a low-life, so I’ll be a low-life too.
LEBEDEV. I’m fed up with you! Listen, Matvey, keep talking like that and they’ll throw you in the, excuse the expression, booby hatch.
SHABELSKY. And why should a booby hatch be any worse than an escape hatch or a nuthatch? Do me a favor, throw me in there right now. You’d be doing me a favor. They’re all such petty little, insignificant little, untalented little creatures, I’m a contemptible creature myself, I don’t believe a word I say . . .
LEBEDEV. You know what, my boy? Put a fuse in your mouth, light it and breathe fire at people. Or better yet: here’s your hat, there’s the door. There’s a wedding going on here, everybody’s celebrating, while you caw-caw like a crow. Yes, honestly. . . .
SHABELSKY leans on the piano and sobs.
Good grief! . . . Matvey! . . . Count! . . . What’s wrong with you? Dear heart, my love . . . my angel . . . Have I offended you? Well, forgive me, old hound that I am . . . Forgive a drunkard . . . Have some water . . .
SHABELSKY. Don’t want any. (Raises his head.)
LEBEDEV. What are you crying for?
SHABELSKY. No reason, just because . . .
LEBEDEV. No, Matvey, don’t lie . . . what for? What’s the reason?
SHABELSKY. I caught a glimpse of that cello and . . . and I remembered the little Jew-girl. . . .
LEBEDEV. Oh boy, what a time you picked to remember! May she rest in peace, bless her, but this is no time for reminiscing . . .
SHABELSKY. We would play duets together . . . A wonderful, superb woman!
SASHA sobs.
LEBEDEV. What, you too? Will you stop it? Lord, they’re both bawling, while I . . . I . . . At least get out of here, the guests will see!
SHABELSKY. Pasha, when the sun shines, it’s cheerful even in a graveyard. When there’s hope, then it’s good even to be old. But I haven’t got a hope, not one single one!
LEBEDEV. Yes, you’re really in a bad way . . . You’ve got no children, no money, no occupation . . . Well, that’s the way it goes. (To Sasha.) But what’s your problem?
SHABELSKY. Pasha, give me some money. We’ll settle up in the next world. I’ll go to Paris, I’ll take a look at my wife’s grave. In my lifetime I’ve given away plenty, I squandered half my fortune, and so I’ve got the right to ask. Besides, I’m asking it from a friend . . .
LEBEDEV (dismayed). Dear heart, I haven’t got a penny! But, all right, all right! I mean, I’m not promising, but you understand . . . fine, fine! (Aside.) They’ve tortured me to death!
VI
The same, BABAKINA, and then ZINAIDA SAVISHNA.
BABAKINA (enters). Now where is my escort? Count, how dare you leave me alone? Ooh, you’re a disgrace! (Strikes the Count on the arm with her fan.)
SHABELSKY (squeamishly). Leave me alone! I hate you!
BABAKINA (dumbfounded). What . . . Huh? . . .
SHABELSKY. Please get away from me.
BABAKINA (drops into an armchair). Ah! (Weeps.)
ZINAIDA SAVISHNA (enters, weeping). Someone’s arrived . . . I think it’s the best man. It’s time for the benediction . . . (Sobs.)
SASHA (pleading). Mamma!
LEBEDEV. Now they’ve all started blubbering! A quartet! Will you please turn off the waterworks! Matvey! . . . Marfa Yegorovna! . . . Look, now I . . . I’ve started crying . . . (Weeps.) Good grief!
ZINAIDA SAVISHNA. If you don’t need a mother, if you’re disobedient . . . then do whatever you like, you have my blessing . . .
Enter IVANOV; he is wearing a tailcoat and gloves.
VII
The same and IVANOV.
LEBEDEV. That’s all we need! What’s up!
SASHA. Why are you here?
IVANOV. Sorry, ladies and gentlemen, let me talk to Sasha alone.
LEBEDEV. It isn’t proper for the groom to drop in on the bride! It’s time for you to be at the church!
IVANOV. Pasha, please