by Leo Tolstoy
JACOB. Mikerogues, you mean! Well, it seems there is such a kind of bugs; all illnesses come from them, they say. So she says there are some of 'em on you. After you were gone, they washed and washed and sprinkled the place where you had stood. There's a kind of physic as kills these same bugs, they say.
SECOND PEASANT. Then where have we got these bugs on us?
JACOB [drinking his tea] Why, they say they're so small that one can't see 'em even through a glass.
SECOND PEASANT. Then how does she know I've got 'em on me? Perhaps there's more of that muck on her than on me!
JACOB. There now, you go and ask her!
SECOND PEASANT. I believe it's humbug.
JACOB. Of course it's bosh. The doctors must invent something, or else what are they paid for? There's one comes to us every day. Comes,--talks a bit,--and pockets ten roubles!
SECOND PEASANT. Nonsense!
JACOB. Why, there's one as takes a hundred!
FIRST PEASANT. A hundred? Humbug!
JACOB. A hundred. Humbug, you say? Why, if he has to go out of town, he'll not do it for less than a thousand! "Give a thousand," he says, "or else you may kick the bucket for what I care!"
THIRD PEASANT. Oh Lord!
SECOND PEASANT. Then does he know some charm?
JACOB. I suppose he must. I served at a General's outside Moscow once: a cross, terrible proud old fellow he was--just awful. Well, this General's daughter fell ill. They send for that doctor at once. "A thousand roubles, then I'll come." Well, they agreed, and he came. Then they did something or other he didn't like, and he bawled out at the General and says, "Is this the way you show your respect for me? Then I'll not attend her!" And, oh my! The old General forgot all his pride, and starts wheedling him in every way not to chuck up the job!
FIRST PEASANT. And he got the thousand?
JACOB. Of course!
SECOND PEASANT. That's easy got money. What wouldn't a peasant do with such a sum!
THIRD PEASANT. And I think it's all bosh. That time my foot was festering I had it doctored ever so long. I spent nigh on five roubles on it,--then I gave up doctoring, and it got all right!
Discharged Cook on the oven coughs.
JACOB. Ah, the old crony is here again!
FIRST PEASANT. Who might that man be?
JACOB. He used to be our master's cook. He comes to see Loukérya.
FIRST PEASANT. Kitchen-master, as one might say. Then, does he live here?
JACOB. No, they won't allow that. He's here one day, there another. If he's got a copper he goes to a dosshouse; but when he has drunk all, he comes here.
SECOND PEASANT. How did he come to this?
JACOB. Simply grew weak. And what a man he used to be--like a gentleman! Went about with a gold watch; got forty roubles a month wages. And now look at him! He'd have starved to death long ago if it hadn't been for Loukérya.
Enter Servants' Cook with the sour cabbage.
JACOB [to Servants' Cook] I see you've got Paul Petróvitch here again?
SERVANTS' COOK. And where's he to go to? Is he to go and freeze?
THIRD PEASANT. What liquor does.... Liquor, let's say ... [Clicks his tongue sympathetically].
SECOND PEASANT. Of course. A firm man's firm as a rock; a weak man's weaker than water.
DISCHARGED COOK [gets off the oven with trembling hands and legs] Loukérya, I say, give us a drop!
SERVANTS' COOK. What are you up to? I'll give you such a drop!...
DISCHARGED COOK. Have you no conscience? I'm dying! Brothers, a copper ...
SERVANTS' COOK. Get back on the oven, I tell you!
DISCHARGED COOK. Half a glass only, cook, for Heaven's sake! I say, do you understand? I ask you in the name of Heaven, now!
SERVANTS' COOK. Come along, here's some tea for you.
DISCHARGED COOK. Tea; what is tea? Weak, sloppy stuff. A little vódka--just one little drop ... Loukérya!
THIRD PEASANT. Poor old soul, what agony it is!
SECOND PEASANT. You'd better give him some.
SERVANTS' COOK [gets out a bottle and fills a wine-glass] Here you are; you'll get no more.
DISCHARGED COOK [clutches hold of it and drinks, trembling all over] Loukérya, Cook! I am drinking, and you must understand ...
SERVANTS' COOK. Now then, stop your chatter! Get on to the oven, and let not a breath of you be heard! [The old Cook meekly begins to climb up, muttering something to himself].
SECOND PEASANT. What it is, when a man gives way to his weakness!
FIRST PEASANT. That's just it--human weakness.
THIRD PEASANT. That goes without saying.
The Discharged Cook settles down, muttering all the time. Silence.
SECOND PEASANT. I want to ask you something: that girl of Aksínya's as comes from our village and is living here. How is she? What is she like? How is she living--I mean, does she live honest?
JACOB. She's a nice girl; one can say nothing but good of her.
SERVANTS' COOK. I'll tell you straight, daddy; I know this here establishment out and out, and if you mean to have Tánya for your son's wife--be quick about it, before she comes to grief, or else she'll not escape!
JACOB. Yes, that's true. A while ago we had a girl here, Nataly. She was a good girl too. And she was lost without rhyme or reason. No better than that chap! [Pointing to the old Cook].
SERVANTS' COOK. There's enough to dam a mill-pool, with the likes of us, as perish! 'Cos why, every one is tempted by the easy life and the good food. And see there,--as soon as one has tasted the good food she goes and slips. And once she's slipped, they don't want her, but get a fresh one in her place. So it was with dear little Nataly; she also slipped, and they turned her out. She had a child and fell ill, and died in the hospital last spring. And what a girl she used to be!
THIRD PEASANT. Oh Lord! People are weak; they ought to be pitied.
DISCHARGED COOK. Those devils pity? No fear! [He hangs his legs down from the oven] I have stood roasting myself by the kitchen range for thirty years, and now that I am not wanted, I may go and die like a dog.... Pity indeed!...
FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. It's the old circumstances.
SECOND PEASANT.
While they drank and they fed, you were "curly head." When they'd finished the prog, 'twas "Get out, mangy dog!"
THIRD PEASANT. Oh Lord!
DISCHARGED COOK. Much you know. What is "Sautey a la Bongmont"? What is "Bavassary"? Oh, the things I could make! Think of it! The Emperor tasted my work, and now the devils want me no longer. But I am not going to stand it!
SERVANTS' COOK. Now then, stop that noise, mind.... Get up right into the corner, so that no one can see you, or else Theodore Ivánitch or some one may come in, and both you and me'll be turned out! [Silence].
JACOB. And do you know my part of the country? I'm from Voznesénsky.
SECOND PEASANT. Not know it? Why, it's no more'n ten miles from our village; not that across the ford! Do you cultivate any land there?
JACOB. My brother does, and I send my wages. Though I live here, I am dying for a sight of home.
FIRST PEASANT. That's just it.
SECOND PEASANT. Then Anísim is your brother?
JACOB. Own brother. He lives at the farther end of the village.
SECOND PEASANT. Of course, I know; his is the third house.
Enter Tánya, running.
TÁNYA. Jacob, what are you doing, amusing yourself here? She is calling you!
JACOB. I'm coming; but what's up?
TÁNYA. Frisk is barking; it's hungry. And she's scolding you. "How cruel he is," she says. "He's no feeling," she says. "It's long past Frisk's dinner-time, and he has not brought her food!" [Laughs].
JACOB [rises to go] Oh, she's cross? What's going to happen now, I wonder?
SERVANTS' COOK. Here, take the cabbage with you.
JACOB. All right, give it here. [Takes basin, and exit].
FIRST PEASANT. Who is going to dine now?
T
ÁNYA. Why, the dog! It's her dog. [Sits down and takes up the tea-pot] Is there any more tea? I've brought some. [Puts fresh tea into the tea-pot.]
FIRST PEASANT. Dinner for a dog?
TÁNYA. Yes, of course! They prepare a special cutlet for her; it must not be too fat. And I do the washing--the dog's washing, I mean.
THIRD PEASANT. Oh Lord!
TÁNYA. It's like that gentleman who had a funeral for his dog.
SECOND PEASANT. What's that?
TÁNYA. Why, some one told me he had a dog--I mean the gentleman had a dog. And it died. It was winter, and he went in his sledge to bury that dog. Well, he buried it, and on the way home he sits and cries--the gentleman does. Well, there was such a bitter frost that the coachman's nose keeps running, and he has to keep wiping it. Let me fill your cup! [Fills it] So he keeps wiping his nose, and the gentleman sees it, and says, "What are you crying about?" And the coachman, he says, "Why, sir, how can I help it; is there another dog like him?" [Laughs].
SECOND PEASANT. And I daresay he thinks to himself, "If your own self was to kick the bucket I'd not cry." [Laughs].
DISCHARGED COOK [from up on the oven] That is true; that's right!
TÁNYA. Well, the gentleman, he gets home and goes straight to his lady: "What a good-hearted man our coachman is; he was crying all the way home about poor Dash. Have him called.... Here, drink this glass of vódka," he says, "and here's a rouble as a reward for you." That's just like her saying Jacob has no feelings for her dog! [The Peasants laugh].
FIRST PEASANT. That's the style!
SECOND PEASANT. That was a go!
THIRD PEASANT. Ay, lassie, but you've set us a-laughing!
TÁNYA [pouring out more tea] Have some more! Yes, it only seems that our life is pleasant; but sometimes it is very disgusting,--clearing up all their messes! Faugh! It's better in the country. [Peasants turn their cups upside-down, as a polite sign that they have had enough. Tánya pours out more tea] Have some more, Efím Antónitch. I'll fill your cup, Mítry Vlásitch.
THIRD PEASANT. All right, fill it, fill it.
FIRST PEASANT. Well, dear, and what progression is our business making?
TÁNYA. It's getting on ...
[Illustration: FRUITS OF CULTURE. ACT II.
FIRST PEASANT. Well, dear, and what progression is our business making?
TÁNYA. It's getting on ...]
FIRST PEASANT. Simon told us ...
TÁNYA [quickly] Did he?
SECOND PEASANT. But he could not make us understand.
TÁNYA. I can't tell you now, but I'm doing my best--all I can! And I've got your paper here! [Shows the paper hidden under the bib of her apron] If only one thing succeeds.... [Shrieks] Oh, how nice it would be!
SECOND PEASANT. Don't lose that paper, mind. It has cost money.
TÁNYA. Never fear. You only want him to sign it? Is that all?
THIRD PEASANT. Why, what else? Let's say he's signed it, and it's done! [Turns his cup upside-down] I've had enough.
TÁNYA [aside] He'll sign it; you'll see he will... Have some more. [Pours out tea].
FIRST PEASANT. If only you get this business about the sale of the land settled, the Commune would pay your marriage expenses. [Refuses the tea].
TÁNYA [pouring out tea] Do have another cup.
THIRD PEASANT. You get it done, and we'll arrange your marriage, and I myself, let's say, will dance at the wedding. Though I've never danced in all my born days, I'll dance then!
TÁNYA [laughing] All right, I'll be in hopes of it. [Silence].
SECOND PEASANT [examines Tánya] That's all very well, but you're not fit for peasant work.
TÁNYA. Who? I? Why, don't you think me strong enough? You should see me lacing up my mistress. There's many a peasant couldn't tug as hard.
SECOND PEASANT. Where do you tug her to?
TÁNYA. Well, there's a thing made with bone, like--something like a stiff jacket, only up to here! Well, and I pull the strings just as when you saddle a horse--when you ... what d'ye call it? You know, when you spit on your hands!
SECOND PEASANT. Tighten the girths, you mean.
TÁNYA. Yes, yes, that's it. And you know I mustn't shove against her with my knee. [Laughs].
SECOND PEASANT. Why do you pull her in?
TÁNYA. For a reason!
SECOND PEASANT. Why, is she doing penance?
TÁNYA. No, it's for beauty's sake!
FIRST PEASANT. That's to say, you pull in her paunch for appearance' sake.
TÁNYA. Sometimes I lace her up so that her eyes are ready to start from her head, and she says, "Tighter," till my hands tingle. And you say I'm not strong! [Peasants laugh and shake their heads].
TÁNYA. But here, I've been jabbering. [Runs away, laughing].
THIRD PEASANT. Ah, the lassie has made us laugh!
FIRST PEASANT. She's a tidy one!
SECOND PEASANT. She's not bad.
Enter Sahátof and Vasíly Leoníditch. Sahátof holds a teaspoon in his hand.
VASÍLY LEONÍDITCH. Not exactly a dinner, but a déjeuner dinatoire. And first-rate it was, I tell you. Ham of sucking-pig, delicious! Roulier feeds one splendidly! I've only just returned. [Sees Peasants] Ah, the peasants are here again!
SAHÁTOF. Yes, yes, that's all very well, but we came here to hide this article. Where shall we hide it?
VASÍLY LEONÍDITCH. Excuse me a moment. [To Servants' Cook] Where are the dogs?
SERVANTS' COOK. In the coachman's quarters. You can't keep dogs in the servants' kitchen!
VASÍLY LEONÍDITCH. Ah, in the coachman's quarters? All right.
SAHÁTOF. I am waiting.
VASÍLY LEONÍDITCH. Excuse me, please. Eh, what? Hide it? I'll tell you what. Let's put it into one of the peasants' pockets. That one. I say, where's your pocket? Eh, what?
THIRD PEASANT. What for d'ye want my pocket? You're a good 'un! My pocket! There's money in my pocket!
VASÍLY LEONÍDITCH. Where's your bag, then?
THIRD PEASANT. What for?
SERVANTS' COOK. What d'you mean? That's the young master!
VASÍLY LEONÍDITCH [laughs. To Sahátof] D'you know why he's so frightened? Shall I tell you? He's got a heap of money. Eh, what?
SAHÁTOF. Yes, yes, I see. Well, you talk to them a bit, and I'll put it into that bag without being observed, so that they should not notice and could not point it out to him. Talk to them.
VASÍLY LEONÍDITCH. All right! [To Peasants] Well then, old fellows, how about the land? Are you buying it? Eh, what?
FIRST PEASANT. We have made an offering, so to say, with our whole heart. But there,--the business don't come into action nohow.
VASÍLY LEONÍDITCH. You should not be so stingy! Land is an important matter! I told you about planting mint. Or else tobacco would also do.
FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. Every kind of producks.
THIRD PEASANT. And you help us, master. Ask your father. Or else how are we to live? There's so little land. A fowl, let's say, there's not enough room for a fowl to run about.
SAHÁTOF [having put the spoon into a bag belonging to the Third Peasant] C'est fait. Ready. Come along. [Exit].
VASÍLY LEONÍDITCH. So don't be stingy! Eh? Well, good-bye. [Exit].
THIRD PEASANT. Didn't I say, come to some lodging-house? Well, supposing we'd had to give three-pence each, then at least we'd have been in peace. As to here, the Lord be merciful! "Give us the money," he says. What's that for?
SECOND PEASANT. He's drunk, I daresay.
Peasants turn their cups upside-down, rise, and cross themselves.
FIRST PEASANT. And d'you mind what a saying he threw out? Sowing mint! One must know how to understand them, that one must!
SECOND PEASANT. Sow mint indeed! He'd better bend his own back at that work, and then it's not mint he'll hanker after, no fear! Well, many thanks!... And now, good woman, would you tell us where we could lie down to sleep?
SERVANTS' COOK. One of you can lie on the oven, and the
others on these benches.