The Complete Works of Leo Tolstoy (25+ Works with active table of contents)

by Leo Tolstoy

  FÉDYA. Whom else could I love?

  MÁSHA. Only me? Well then, read what you have been writing.

  FÉDYA. It will bore you.

  MÁSHA. It's you who wrote it, so it's sure to be good.

  FÉDYA. Well then listen. [Reads] "One day, late in autumn, my friend and I agreed to meet on the Murýgin fields, where there was a close thicket with many young birds in it. The day was dull, warm, and quiet. The mist ..."

  Enter two old gipsies, Másha's parents, Iván Makárovich and Nastásia Ivánovna.

  NASTÁSIA [stepping up to her daughter] Here you are then, you damned runaway sheep! [To Fédya] My respects to you, sir! [To Másha] Is that how you treat us, eh?

  IVÁN [to Fédya] It's wrong, sir, what you're doing! You're ruining the wench! Oh, but it's wrong ... You're doing a dirty deed.

  NASTÁSIA. Put on your shawl! March at once!... Running away like this! What can I say to the choir? Gallivanting with a beggar--what can you get out of him?

  MÁSHA. I don't gallivant! I love this gentleman, that's all. I've not left the choir. I'll go on singing, and what ...

  IVÁN. Say another word, and I'll pull the hair off your head!... Slut!... Who behaves like that? Not your father, nor your mother, nor your aunt!... It's bad, sir! We were fond of you--often and often we sang to you without pay. We pitied you, and what have you done?

  NASTÁSIA. You've ruined our daughter for nothing ... our own, our only daughter, the light of our eyes, our priceless jewel--you've trodden her into the mire, that's what you've done! You've no conscience.

  FÉDYA. Nastásia Ivánovna, you suspect me falsely. Your daughter is like a sister to me. I care for her honour. You must think no evil ... but I love her! What is one to do?

  IVÁN. But you didn't love her when you had money! If you'd then subscribed ten thousand roubles or so to the choir, you might have had her honourably. But now you've squandered everything, and carry her off by stealth! It's a shame, sir, a shame!

  MÁSHA. He has not carried me off! I came to him myself, and if you take me away now, I shall come back again. I love him, and there's an end of it! My love is stronger than all your locks ... I won't!

  NASTÁSIA. Come, Másha dearest! Come, my own! Don't sulk. You've done wrong, and now come along.

  IVÁN. Now then, you've talked enough! March! [Seizes her hand] Excuse us, sir! [Exit the three gipsies].

  Enter Prince Abrézkov.

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. Excuse me. I have been an unwilling witness of an unpleasant scene....

  FÉDYA. Whom have I the honour?... [Recognises the Prince] Ah, Prince Abrézkov! [They shake hands].

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. An unwilling witness of an unpleasant scene. I should have been glad not to hear, but having overheard it, I consider it my duty to tell you so. I was directed here, and had to wait at the door for those people to come out--more particularly as their very loud voices rendered my knocking inaudible.

  FÉDYA. Yes, yes--please take a seat. Thank you for telling me: it gives me the right to explain that scene to you. I don't mind what you may think of me, but I should like to tell you that the reproaches you heard addressed to that girl, that gipsy singer, were unjust. That girl is as morally pure as a dove; and my relations with her are those of a friend. There may be a tinge of romance in them, but it does not destroy the purity--the honour--of the girl. That is what I wished to tell you; but what is it you want of me? In what way can I be of service?

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. In the first place, I ...

  FÉDYA. Forgive me, Prince. My present social standing is such, that my former slight acquaintance with you does not entitle me to a visit from you, unless you have some business with me. What is it?

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. I won't deny it. You have guessed right. I have business with you; but I beg you to believe that the alteration in your position in no wise affects my attitude towards you.

  FÉDYA. I am sure of it.

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. My business is this. The son of my old friend, Anna Dmítrievna Karénina, and she herself, have asked me to ascertain directly from you what are your relations ... May I speak out?... your relations with your wife, Elisabeth Andréyevna Protásova.

  FÉDYA. My relations with my wife, or rather with her who was my wife, are entirely at an end.

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. So I understood, and that is why I accepted this difficult mission.

  FÉDYA. At an end, and, I hasten to add, not by her fault, but by mine--by my innumerable faults. She is, as she always was, quite irreproachable.

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. Well then, Victor Karénin, or rather his mother, asked me to find out what your intentions are.

  FÉDYA [growing excited] What intentions? I have none. I set her quite free! Moreover, I will never disturb her peace. I know she loves Victor Karénin. Well, let her! I consider him a very dull, but very good and honourable man, and I think that she will, as the phrase goes, be happy with him; and--que le bon Dieu les bénisse![20] That's all ...

  [20] May God bless them!

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. Yes, but we ...

  FÉDYA [interrupting] And don't suppose that I feel the least bit jealous. If I said that Victor is dull, I withdraw the remark. He is an excellent, honourable, moral man: almost the direct opposite of myself. And he has loved her from childhood. Perhaps she too may have loved him when she married me--that happens sometimes! The very best love is unconscious love. I believe she always did love him; but as an honest woman she did not confess it even to herself. But ... a shadow of some kind always lay across our family life--but why am I confessing to you?

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. Please do! Believe me, my chief reason for coming to you was my desire to understand the situation fully.... I understand you. I understand that the shadow, as you so well express it, may have been ...

  FÉDYA. Yes, it was; and that perhaps is why I could not find satisfaction in the family life she provided for me, but was always seeking something, and being carried away. However, that sounds like excusing myself. I don't want to, and can't, excuse myself. I was (I say with assurance, was) a bad husband. I say was, because in my consciousness I am not, and have long not been, her husband. I consider her perfectly free. So there you have my answer to your question.

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. Yes, but you know Victor's family, and himself too. His relation to Elisabeth Andréyevna is, and has been all through, most respectful and distant. He assisted her when she was in trouble ...

  FÉDYA. Yes, I by my dissipation helped to draw them together. What's to be done? It had to be so!

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. You know the strictly Orthodox convictions of that family. Having myself a broader outlook on things, I do not share them; but I respect and understand them. I understand that for him, and especially for his mother, union with a woman without a Church marriage is unthinkable.

  FÉDYA. Yes, I know his stu ... his strictness, his conservatism in these matters. But what do they want? A divorce? I told them long ago that I am quite willing; but the business of taking the blame on myself, and all the lies connected with it, are very trying....[21]

  [21] Under the Russian law divorce was only obtainable if ocular evidence of adultery was forthcoming, and a great deal of perjury was usually involved in such cases.

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. I quite understand you, and sympathise. But how can it be avoided? I think it might be arranged that way--but you are right. It is dreadful, and I quite understand you.

  FÉDYA [pressing the Prince's hand] Thank you, dear Prince! I always knew you were a kind and honourable man. Tell me what to do. How am I to act? Put yourself in my place. I am not trying to improve. I am a good-for-nothing; but there are things I cannot do quietly. I cannot quietly tell lies.

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. I don't understand you! You, a capable, intelligent man, so sensitive to what is good--how can you let yourself be so carried away--so forget what you expect of yourself? How have you ruined your life and come to this?

  FÉDYA [forcing back tears of emotion] I have led this disorderly life for
ten years, and this is the first time a man like you has pitied me! I have been pitied by my boon-companions, by rakes and by women; but a reasonable, good man like you ... Thank you! How did I come to my ruin? First, through drink. It is not that drink tastes nice; but do what I will, I always feel I am not doing the right thing, and I feel ashamed. I talk to you now, and feel ashamed. As for being a Maréchal de la noblesse, or a Bank Director--I should feel ashamed, so ashamed! It is only when I drink that I do not feel this shame. And music: not operas or Beethoven, but gipsies!... That is life! Energy flows into one's veins! And then those dear black eyes, and those smiles! And the more delicious it is, the more ashamed one feels afterwards.

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. How about work?

  FÉDYA. I have tried it, but it's no good. I am always dissatisfied with it--but what's the use of talking about myself! I thank you.

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. Then what am I to say?

  FÉDYA. Tell them I will do what they wish. They want to get married, and that there should be no obstacle to their marriage?

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. Of course.

  FÉDYA. I'll do it! Tell them I will certainly do it.

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. But when?

  FÉDYA. Wait a bit. Well, say in a fortnight. Will that do?

  PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. Then I may tell them so?

  FÉDYA. You may. Good-bye, Prince! Thank you once again!

  [Exit Prince].

  FÉDYA [sits for a long time and smiles silently] That's the way, that's the way! It must be so, must be, must be! Splendid!

  Curtain.

  ACT IV

  SCENE 1

  A private room in a restaurant. A waiter shows in Fédya and Iván Petróvich Alexándrov.

  WAITER. Here, please. No one will disturb you here. I'll bring some paper directly.

  IVÁN PETRÓVICH. Protásov, I'll come in too.

  FÉDYA [seriously] If you like, but I'm busy and ... All right, come in.

  IVÁN PETRÓVICH. You wish to reply to their demands? I'll tell you what to say. I should not do it that way--always speak straight out, and act with decision.

  FÉDYA [to waiter] A bottle of champagne!

  Exit waiter.

  FÉDYA [taking out a revolver and putting it on the table] Wait a bit!

  IVÁN PETRÓVICH. What's that? Do you want to shoot yourself? You can if you like. I understand you! They wish to humiliate you, and you will show them the sort of man you are! You will kill yourself with a revolver, and them with magnanimity. I understand you. I understand everything, because I am a genius.

  FÉDYA. Of course--of course. Only ... [Enter waiter with paper and ink].

  FÉDYA [covers the revolver with a napkin] Uncork it--let's have a drink. [They drink. Fédya writes] Wait a bit!

  IVÁN PETRÓVICH. Here's to your ... great journey! You know I'm above all this. I'm not going to restrain you! Life and death are alike to Genius. I die in life, and live in death. You will kill yourself that two people should pity you; and I--I shall kill myself that the whole world may understand what it has lost. I won't hesitate, or think about it! I seize it [snatches revolver]--now! And all is over. But it is too soon yet. [Lays down revolver] Nor shall I write anything; they must understand it themselves.... Oh, you ...

  FÉDYA [writing] Wait a bit.

  IVÁN PETRÓVICH. Pitiful people! They fuss, they bustle, and don't understand--don't understand anything at all.... I'm not talking to you, I am only expressing my thoughts. And, after all, what does humanity need? Very little--only to value its geniuses. But they always are executed, persecuted, tortured.... No! I'm not going to be your toy! I will drag you out into the open! No-o-o! Hypocrites!

  FÉDYA [having finished writing, drinks and reads over his letter] Go away, please!

  IVÁN PETRÓVICH. Go away? Well, good-bye then! I am not going to restrain you. I shall do the same. But not yet. I only want to tell you ...

  FÉDYA. All right! You'll tell me afterwards. And now, dear chap, just one thing: give this to the manager [gives him money] and ask if a parcel and a letter have come for me.... Please do!

  IVÁN PETRÓVICH. All right--then you'll wait for me? I have still something important to tell you--something that you will not hear in this world nor in the next, at any rate not till I come there.... Am I to let him have all of this?

  FÉDYA. As much as is necessary. [Exit Iván Petróvich.]

  Fédya sighs with relief; locks the door behind Iván Petróvich; takes up the revolver, cocks it, puts it to his temple; shudders, and carefully lowers it again. Groans.

  FÉDYA. No; I can't! I can't! I can't! [Knock at the door] Who's there?

  [Másha's voice from outside] It's me!

  FÉDYA. Who's "me"? Oh, Másha ... [opens door].

  MÁSHA. I've been to your place, to Popóv's, to Afrémov's, and guessed that you must be here. [Sees revolver] That's a nice thing! There's a fool! A regular fool! Is it possible you really meant to?

  FÉDYA. No, I couldn't.

  MÁSHA. Do I count for nothing at all? You heathen! You had no pity for me? Oh, Theodore Vasílyevich, it's a sin, a sin! In return for my love ...

  FÉDYA. I wished to release them. I promised to, and I can't lie.

  MÁSHA. And what about me?

  FÉDYA. What about you? It would have set you free too. Is it better for you to be tormented by me?

  MÁSHA. Seems it's better. I can't live without you.

  FÉDYA. What sort of life could you have with me? You'd have cried a bit, and then gone on living your own life.

  MÁSHA. I shouldn't have cried at all! Go to the devil, if you don't pity me! [Cries].

  FÉDYA. Másha, dearest! I meant to do it for the best.

  MÁSHA. Best for yourself!

  FÉDYA [smiles] How's that, when I meant to kill myself?

  MÁSHA. Of course, best for yourself! But what is it you want? Tell me.

  FÉDYA. What I want? I want a great deal.

  MÁSHA. Well, what? What?

  FÉDYA. First of all, to keep my promise. That is the first thing, and quite sufficient. To lie, and do all the dirty work necessary to get a divorce ... I can't!

  MÁSHA. Granted that it's horrid--I myself ...

  FÉDYA. Next, they must really be free--my wife and he. After all, they are good people; and why should they suffer? That's the second thing.

  MÁSHA. Well, there isn't much good in her, if she's thrown you over.

  FÉDYA. She didn't--I threw her over.

  MÁSHA. All right, all right! It's always you. She is an angel! What else!

  FÉDYA. This--that you are a good, dear girlie--and that I love you, and if I live I shall ruin you.

  MÁSHA. That's not your business. I know quite well what will ruin me.

  FÉDYA [sighs] But above all, above all ... What use is my life? Don't I know that I am a lost good-for-nothing? I am a burden to myself and to everybody--as your father said. I'm worthless....

  MÁSHA. What rubbish! I shall stick to you. I've stuck to you already, and there's an end of it! As to your leading a bad life, drinking and going on the spree--well, you're a living soul! Give it up, and have done with it!

  FÉDYA. That's easily said.

  MÁSHA. Well, then, do it.

  FÉDYA. Yes, when I look at you I feel as if I could really do anything.

  MÁSHA. And so you shall! Yes, you'll do it! [Sees the letter] What's that? You've written to them? What have you written?

  FÉDYA. What have I written?... [Takes the letter and is about to tear it up] It's no longer wanted now.

  MÁSHA [snatches the letter] You've said you would kill yourself? Yes? You did not mention the revolver--only said that you'd kill yourself?

  FÉDYA. Yes, that I should be no more.

  MÁSHA. Give it me--give it, give it!... Have you read What to Do?

  FÉDYA. I think I have.

  MÁSHA. It's a tiresome novel, but there's one very, very good thing in it. That what's his name?--Rakhmánov--goes and pretends he has drowned himsel
f. And you--can you swim?

  FÉDYA. No.

  MÁSHA. That's all right. Let me have your clothes--everything, and your pocket-book too.

  FÉDYA. How can I?

  MÁSHA. Wait a bit, wait, wait! Let's go home; then you'll change your clothes.

  FÉDYA. But it will be a fraud.

  MÁSHA. All right! You go to bathe, your clothes remain on the bank, in the pocket is your pocket-book and this letter.