TIKHON (sighs). God grants each man the strength he needs . . .
KUZMA. There’s all kinds of strength, true enough . . . Well? What do I owe you? (Pays up.) Take my heart’s blood! Good-bye, boys! I wish you good night, and sweet dreams! I’m off, it’s time . . . I’m driving the midwife from the infirmary to the boss’s wife . . . I figure the poor woman’s sick and tired of waiting, drenched to the skin . . . (Runs out.)
TIKHON (after a pause). Hey, you! What’s yer name? Sad sack, have a drink! (Pours it out.)
BORTSOV (hesitantly walks over to the bar and drinks). So I suppose I owe you for two drinks now.
TIKHON. Who said anything about owing? Drink—that’s all I said! Drown your sorrows!
FEDYA. Have a drink on me too, sir! Ech! (Tosses a five-kopek coin on the bar.) Drink—and you’ll die, don’t drink—and you’ll die too! You can get along without vodka, but with vodka, honest to God, you loosen up more! When there’s vodka, you forget your troubles . . . Bottoms up!
BORTSOV. Whew! It’s strong!
MERIK. Hand it over! (Takes the locket from Tikhon and examines the portrait.) Hm . . . Ran away right after the wedding . . . What would you call ‘er?
VOICE FROM THE CORNER. Pour him out another little glass, Tisha. Let ‘im have one on me!
MERIK (forcefully slams the locket on the floor). Damn the bitch! (Quickly goes to his place and lies down with his face to the wall.)
Consternation.
BORTSOV. What was that? What’s going on? (Picks up the locket.) How dare you, you brute? What gives you the right? (Tearfully.) You want me to kill you? Huh? Peasant! Ignoramus!
TIKHON. That’ll do, sir, temper, temper. . . . It ain’t made o’ glass, it won’t break . . . Have another drink, then go to sleep . . . (Pours it out.) I’ve had an earful of the bunch of you, it’s high time I closed up shop. (Goes and bolts the door to the outside.)
BORTSOV (drinks). How dare he? What an idiot! (To Merik.) You understand? You’re an idiot, you jackass!
SAVVA. Good boys! Dear sirs! Set a watch over your mouths and keep the doors of your lips!7 What good is all this racket? Let folks sleep!
TIKHON. Go to bed, go to bed . . . That’s enough outa you! (Goes behind the bar and locks the cashbox.)
FEDYA. About time! (Lies down.) Sweet dreams, pals!
MERIK (gets up and spreads his sheepskin coat on the bench). Come on, sir, lie down here!
TIKHON. Where’re you gonna sleep?
MERIK. Wherever I can . . . The floor will do . . . (Spreads his fustian coat on the floor.) It don’t matter to me. (Puts his axe beside him.) For him sleeping on the floor’d be hell . . . He’s used to silk and cotton batting . . .
TIKHON (to Bortsov). Lay down, your worship! That’s enough staring at that pitcher! (Puts out the candle.) Throw it away!
BORTSOV (staggering). Where am I to lie down?
TIKHON. In the tramp’s place! You hear, he’s letting you have it!
BORTSOV (walks over to the proffered place). But I’m sort of . . . wee bit drunk . . . This . . . what’s it? I’m supposed to lie there? Huh?
TIKHON. Right there, right there, don’t worry, lay down . . . (Stretches out on the bar.)
BORTSOV (lies down). I’m . . . drunk . . . Everything’s spinning round . . . (Opens the locket.) Do you have a candle end?
Pause.
You’re a strange girl, Masha . . . You stare at me from the frame and laugh . . . (Laughs.) Drunk! Should you be laughing at a drunkard? You mind your own ps and qs, as the comedian says in that play,8 and . . . love the drunkard a little.
FEDYA. The way that wind is blowing! Spooky!
BORTSOV (laughs). What a girl . . . How can you whirl around like that? Can’t get hold of you!
MERIK. He’s raving. Started looking at that pitcher again. (Laughs.) That beats the band! Eddicated gents has dreamed up all kinds of machines and medicines, but there still ain’t a guy smart enough to come up with a cure for the female sex . . . They’re aiming to cure all diseases, but it never occurs to them that more folks is ruined by womanfolk than by diseases . . . Sneaky, greedy, never let up, not a brain in their heads . . . The mother-in-law picks on the new bride, the bride works hard to put one over on her husband . . . And there’s no end to it . . .
TIKHON. Womenfolk have run him ragged, he’s an unholy mess.
MERIK. It ain’t just me . . . For ages and ages, ever since the world began, people been in a sorry state . . . It’s no wonder and no accident that in fairy tales and folksongs the devil and the female are on the same side . . . No accident! There’s more than a grain o’ truth in that . . .
Pause.
There’s that gent making a fool of himself, but what about me going screwy and turning tramp, walking out on my folks?
FEDYA. Womenfolk?
MERIK. Just the same as the gent there . . . I went around like a soul in torment, under a spell, bragged about how happy I was . . . like I was on fire night and day, but the time came when my eyes was opened . . . It weren’t love, nothing but a con game . . .
FEDYA. So what’d you do to her?
MERIK. None of yer business . . .
Pause.
I killed her, that what you think? My arms is too short . . . What I did weren’t to kill her, but to . . . feel sorry for her . . . Go on and live and be . . . happy! Only don’t let me set eyes on you, let me forget you, you snake in the grass!
Knocking at the door.
TIKHON. Who the hell is that . . . Who’s there?
Knocking.
Who’s knocking? (Gets up and go to the door.) Who’s knocking? Move along, we’re closed!
VOICE BEHIND THE DOOR. Let us in, Tikhon, for pity’s sake! A spring’s busted in the carriage! Help us out, be a father to us! I’ll patch it up with a bit o’ rope, and then one way or another we’ll get where we’re going . . .
TIKHON. Who’re you driving?
VOICE BEHIND THE DOOR. Driving a lady from town to Varsonofeevo . . . There’s only three miles left to go . . . Help us out, for pity’s sake!
TIKHON. Go ahead and tell the lady that for ten rubles you’ll get your rope and we’ll fix your spring . . .