KHIRIN. Please, I beg you, no insinuations!
SHIPUCHIN. Ah, no one’s making insinuations! What an impossible temper you have . . . I’m only saying: at home I can be a slob, a lowbrow, and indulge my bad habits, but here everything has to be on a grand scale. This is a bank! Here every little detail has to make an impression, in a manner of speaking, and present a solemn appearance. (Picks up a piece of paper from the floor and tosses it into the fireplace.) My great achievement is precisely my upholding the reputation of the bank! . . . The main thing is tone! The main thing, or my name’s not Shipuchin. (After a glance at Khirin.) My dear man, the deputation of shareholders might come in at any moment, and you’re wearing felt boots, that muffler . . . some jacket of an uncivilized color . . . You should put on tails, or, at least a black frockcoat . . .
KHIRIN. I consider my health more precious than your bank shareholders. I’ve got inflammation all through my body.
SHIPUCHIN (getting excited). But you must agree that this is a mess! You’re spoiling the effect of the ensemble!
KHIRIN. When the deputation arrives, I can always hide. It’s no big problem . . . (Writes.) Seven . . . one . . . seven . . . two . . . five . . . zero. I’m no fan of messes myself! You would have done better not to invite ladies to the celebratory banquet today. . .
SHIPUCHIN. What piffle . . .
KHIRIN. I know, you’ve let them in today so you’ll have a full house, and it’ll look chic, but, listen, they’ll spoil the whole thing for you. They lead to nothing but stress and mess.
SHIPUCHIN. On the contrary, the company of females is uplifting!
KHIRIN. Yes . . . Your wife is supposed to be well-bred, but last Wednesday she blurted out something that had me in a dither for the next two days. Suddenly in the presence of bystanders she asks: “Is it true that for our bank my husband bought shares in the Trashko-Pashko bank, and now they’ve gone down on the stock exchange? Oh, my husband is so worried!” This in front of bystanders! And why you confide in her I can’t understand! You want them to bring you up on criminal charges?
SHIPUCHIN. Now, that’ll do, that’ll do! For a celebration this is all far too depressing. By the way, you’ve reminded me. (Looks at his watch.) My wifie is supposed to be here any minute. Actually, I should have driven to the station to meet her, poor dear, but there’s no time and . . . and I was worn out. To tell the truth, I’m put out with her! I mean, I’m not put out, but I would prefer if she stayed another little day or two at her mother’s. She insists that I spend the whole evening with her, today, when they’ve been planning a little postprandial excursion . . .7 (Shudders.) There now, I’ve started to get a nervous twitch. My nerves are so frayed that I think the least little trifle is enough to make me burst into tears! No, I have to be firm, or my name’s not Shipuchin.
Enter TATYANA ALEKSEEVNA in a mackintosh,8 with a traveling handbag on a strap across her shoulder.
SHIPUCHIN. Bah! Speak of the devil!
TATYANA ALEKSEEVNA. My dear! (Runs to her husband, a protracted kiss.)
SHIPUCHIN. Why, we were just talking about you! . . . (Looks at his watch.)
TATYANA ALEKSEEVNA (panting). Were you bored without me? Are you well? I haven’t even been home yet, I came straight from the station. I’ve got so much to tell you about, so much . . . I can’t wait . . . I won’t take off my things, I’ll only be a minute. (To Khirin.) How are you, Kuzma Nikolaich! (To her husband.) Is everything all right at home?
SHIPUCHIN. Everything. Why, you’ve got plumper and prettier this past week . . . Well, how was the trip?
TATYANA ALEKSEEVNA. Wonderful. Mamma and Katya send you their regards. Vasily Andreich told me to give you a kiss. (Kisses him.) Auntie sent you a pot of jam, and everyone’s annoyed that you don’t write. Zina told me to give you a kiss. (Kisses him.) Oh, if you only knew the things that went on! The things that went on! I’m even terrified to tell you! Ah, the things that went on! But I can tell from your eyes that you’re not pleased to see me!
SHIPUCHIN. On the contrary . . . My dearest . . . (Kisses her.)
KHIRIN coughs angrily.
TATYANA ALEKSEEVNA (sighs). Oh, poor Katya, poor Katya! I feel so sorry for her, so sorry!
SHIPUCHIN. We’re having the celebration today, my dearest, at any moment a deputation of the bank’s shareholders might show up, and you’re not dressed.
TATYANA ALEKSEEVNA. That’s right, the celebration! Congratulations, gentlemen . . . I wish you . . . That means, today is the assembly, the banquet . . . I love it. But you remember, that lovely testimonial, which you took so much trouble to compose for the shareholders? Will they be reading it to you today?
KHIRIN coughs angrily.
SHIPUCHIN (embarrassed). My dear, people don’t talk about such things . . . Really, you ought to go home.
TATYANA ALEKSEEVNA. Right away, right away. It’ll take a minute to tell you about it and then I’ll go. I’ll start the whole story right from the beginning. Well now . . . After you left me off, remember, I sat next to that stout lady and started reading. I never try to make conversation on a train. I went on reading for three stations and not a single word to anybody . . . Well, night came on, and you know, all these gloomy thoughts came with them! Across from me sat a young man, quite proper, not bad at all, dark-haired . . . Well, we started talking . . . A sailor dropped in, then some student or other . . . (Laughs.) I told them I wasn’t married . . . The way they paid court to me! We chattered away till midnight, the dark-haired one told awfully funny stories, and the sailor kept singing. My chest began to hurt from laughing. And when the sailor—oh, those sailors! — when the sailor happened to find out my name is Tatyana, you know what he sang? (Sings in a bass voice.) “Onegin, this I cannot hide, Tatyana’s my love, she is my bride! . . .”9 (Laughs loudly.)
KHIRIN coughs angrily.
SHIPUCHIN. However, Tatyana, we’re disturbing Kuzma Nikolaich. Go home, my dear . . . Later . . .
TATYANA ALEKSEEVNA. Never mind, never mind, let him listen, this is very interesting. I’ll be done in a minute. At the station Seryozha came for me. Some other young man turned up there, a tax collector, I believe . . . Quite acceptable, good-looking little fellow, especially his eyes . . . Seryozha introduced him, and all three of us drove off . . . The weather was wonderful . . .
Offstage voices: “You can’t! You can’t! What do you want?” Enter MERCHUTKINA.
MERCHUTKINA (in the doorway, waving someone away). What are you grabbing at? I never! I have to talk to him myself! . . . (Enters. To Shipuchin.) I have the honor, Your Excellency . . . Wife of a county clerk, Nastasya Fyo-dorovna Merchutkina, sir.
SHIPUCHIN. How can I help you?
MERCHUTKINA. If you don’t mind, Your Excellency, my husband, county clerk Merchutkin, was ailing for five months, and while he was home in bed getting better, they fired him for no reason at all, Your Excellency, and when I went to get his salary, they’d, if you don’t mind, gone and deducted from his salary twenty-four rubles thirty-six kopeks. What for? I ask. “Well,” says they, “he borrowed from the mutual-aid fund and other people vouched for him.” How could that be? Could he borrow anythin’ without my consent? It’s impossible, Your Excellency! I’m a poor woman, I only keep body and soul together by taking in lodgers . . . I’m weak, defenseless . . . I put up with everybody’s insults and never hear a kind word from a soul.