The Complete Works of Leo Tolstoy (25+ Works with active table of contents)
Page 305
FÉDYA. Yes, and then?
MÁSHA. And then? Why, then we'll go off together and live gloriously.
Enter Iván Petróvich.
IVÁN PETRÓVICH. There now! And the revolver? I'll take it.
MÁSHA. Take it; take it! We're off.
Curtain.
SCENE 2
The Protásovs' drawing-room.
KARÉNIN. He promised so definitely, that I am sure he will keep his word.
LISA. I am ashamed to say it, but I must confess that what I heard about that gipsy girl makes me feel quite free. Don't think it is jealousy; it isn't, but you know--it sets me free. I hardly know how to tell you....
KARÉNIN. You don't know how to tell me ... Why?
LISA [smiling] Never mind! Only let me explain what I feel. The chief thing that tormented me was, that I felt I loved two men; and that meant that I was an immoral woman.
KARÉNIN. You immoral?
LISA. But since I knew that he had got someone else, and that he therefore did not need me, I felt free, and felt that I might truthfully say that I love you. Now things are clear within me, and only my position torments me. This divorce! It is such torture--and then this waiting!
KARÉNIN. It will soon, very soon, be settled. Besides his promise, I sent my secretary to him with the petition ready for signature, and told him not to leave till it is signed. If I did not know him so well, I should think he was purposely behaving as he does.
LISA. He? No, it is the result both of his weakness and his honesty. He doesn't want to say what is not true. Only you were wrong to send him money.
KARÉNIN. I had to. The want of it might be the cause of the delay.
LISA. No, there is something bad about money.
KARÉNIN. Well, anyhow, he need not have been so punctilious ...
LISA. How selfish we are becoming!
KARÉNIN. Yes, I confess it. It's your own fault. After all that waiting, that hopelessness, I am now so happy! And happiness makes one selfish. It's your fault!
LISA. Do you think it's you only? I too--I feel full of happiness, bathed in bliss! I have everything--Mísha has recovered, your mother likes me, and you--and above all, I, I love!
KARÉNIN. Yes? And no repenting? No turning back?
LISA. Since that day everything has changed in me.
KARÉNIN. And will not change again?
LISA. Never! I only wish you to have done with it all as completely as I have.
Enter nurse, with baby. Lisa takes the baby on her lap.
KARÉNIN. What wretched people we are!
LISA [kissing baby] Why?
KARÉNIN. When you married, and I heard of it on my return from abroad, and was wretched because I felt that I had lost you, it was a relief to me to find that you still remembered me. I was content even with that. Then when our friendship was established and I felt your kindness to me, and even a little gleam of something in our friendship that was more than friendship, I was almost happy. I was only tormented by a fear that I was not being honest towards Fédya. But no! I was always so firmly conscious that any other relation than one of purest friendship with my friend's wife was impossible--besides which, I knew you--that I was not really troubled about that. Afterwards, when Fédya began to cause you anxiety, and I felt that I was of some use to you, and that my friendship was beginning to alarm you--I was quite happy, and a sort of vague hope awoke in me. Still later, when he became altogether impossible and you decided to leave him, and I spoke to you plainly for the first time, and you did not say "No," but went away in tears--then I was perfectly happy; and had I then been asked what more I wanted, I should have answered "Nothing"! But later on, when there came the possibility of uniting our lives: when my mother grew fond of you and the possibility began to be realised; when you told me that you loved and had loved me, and then (as you did just now) that he no longer existed for you and that you love only me--what more, one would think, could I wish for? But no! Now the past torments me! I wish that past had not existed, and that there were nothing to remind me of it.
LISA [reproachfully] Victor!
KARÉNIN. Lisa, forgive me! If I tell you this, it is only because I don't want a single thought of mine about you to be hidden from you. I have purposely told you, to show how bad I am, and how well I know that I must struggle with and conquer myself.... And now I've done it! I love him.
LISA. That's as it should be. I did all I could, but it was not I that did what you desired: it happened in my heart, from which everything but you has vanished.
KARÉNIN. Everything?
LISA. Everything, everything--or I would not say so.
Enter footman.
FOOTMAN. Mr. Voznesénsky.
KARÉNIN. He's come with Fédya's answer.
LISA [to Karénin] Ask him in here.
KARÉNIN [rising and going to the door] Well, here is the answer!
LISA [gives baby to nurse; exit nurse] Is it possible, Victor, that everything will now be decided? [Kisses Karénin].
Enter Voznesénsky.
KARÉNIN. Well?
VOZNESÉNSKY. He has gone.
KARÉNIN. Gone! And without signing the petition?
VOZNESÉNSKY. The petition is not signed, but a letter was left for you and Elisabeth Andréyevna [Takes letter out of his pocket and gives it to Karénin] I went to his lodgings, and was told he was at the restaurant. I went there, and Mr. Protásov told me to return in an hour and I should then have his answer. I went back, and then ...
KARÉNIN. Is it possible that this means another delay? More excuses! No, that would be downright wicked. How he has fallen!
LISA. But do read the letter! [Karénin opens letter].
VOZNESÉNSKY. You do not require me any longer?
KARÉNIN. Well, no. Good-bye! Thank you ... [Pauses in astonishment as he reads].
Exit Voznesénsky.
LISA. What--what is it?
KARÉNIN. This is awful!
LISA [takes hold of letter] Read!
KARÉNIN [reads] "Lisa and Victor, I address myself to you both. I won't lie and call you 'dear' or anything else. I cannot master the feeling of bitterness and reproach (I reproach myself, but all the same it is painful) when I think of you and of your love and happiness. I know everything. I know that though I was the husband, I have--by a series of accidents--been in your way. C'est moi qui suis l'intrus.[22] But all the same, I cannot restrain a feeling of bitterness and coldness towards you. I love you both in theory, especially Lisa, Lisette! But actually I am more than cold towards you. I know I am wrong, but cannot change."
[22] It is I who am the intruder.
LISA. How can he ...
KARÉNIN [continues reading] "But to business! This very feeling of discord within me forces me to fulfil your desire not in the way you wish. Lying, acting so disgusting a comedy, bribing the Consistorium, and all those horrors, are intolerably repulsive to me. Vile as I may be, I am vile in a different way, and cannot take part in those abominations--simply cannot! The solution at which I have arrived is the simplest: to be happy, you must marry. I am in the way; consequently I must destroy myself...."
LISA [seizes Victor's hand] Victor!
KARÉNIN [reads] "... must destroy myself. And I will do it. When you get this letter, I shall be no more.
"P.S. What a pity you sent me money to pay for the divorce proceedings! It is unpleasant, and unlike you! But it can't be helped. I have so often made mistakes, why shouldn't you make one? I return the money. My way of escape is shorter, cheaper, and surer. All I ask is, don't be angry with me, and think kindly of me. And, one thing more--there is a clockmaker, Evgényev, here. Can't you help him, and set him on his feet? He's a good man, though weak.--Good-bye,
"FÉDYA."
LISA. He has taken his life! Yes ...
KARÉNIN [rings, and runs out to the hall] Call Mr. Voznesénsky back!
LISA. I knew it! I knew it! Fédya, dear Fédya!
KARÉNIN. Lisa!
LISA. I
t's not true, not true that I didn't love him and don't love him! I love only him! I love him! And I've killed him. Leave me!
Enter Voznesénsky.
KARÉNIN. Where is Mr. Protásov? What did they tell you?
VOZNESÉNSKY. They told me he went out this morning, left this letter, and had not returned.
KARÉNIN. We shall have to find out about it, Lisa. I must leave you.
LISA. Forgive me, but I too can't lie! Go now--go, and find out ...
Curtain.
ACT V
SCENE 1
A dirty room in a low-class restaurant. A table, at which people sit drinking tea and vódka. In the foreground a small table, at which sits Fédya, tattered, and much come down in the world. With him is Petushkóv, a gentle, mild man with long hair, of clerical appearance. Both are slightly drunk.
PETUSHKÓV. I understand, I understand. That is true love! Yes? Go on.
FÉDYA. Well, you know, if a woman of our class showed such feeling and sacrificed everything for the man she loved.... But she was a gipsy, brought up to money-hunting, and yet she had this self-sacrificing love! Gave everything, and wanted nothing herself! The contrast was so wonderful!
PETUSHKÓV. Yes, in art we call it "value." You can only get quite bright red by putting green round it. But that's not to the point. I understand, quite understand.
FÉDYA. Yes, and I believe the one good action of my life is that I never took advantage of her love. And do you know why?
PETUSHKÓV. Pity.
FÉDYA. Oh no! I never felt pity for her. What I felt for her was always rapturous admiration--and when she sang! Ah, how she sang--and perhaps still sings! I always regarded her as far above me. I did not ruin her, simply because I loved her; loved her truly. And now she's a good, happy memory! [Drinks].
PETUSHKÓV. Yes, I understand, I understand. It's ideal.
FÉDYA. I'll tell you something. I have had my passions, and once I was in love with a lady--very handsome--and I loved her nastily, like a dog. She gave me a rendezvous. And I did not go, because I thought it was treating the husband shabbily. And it is strange that, even now, when I remember it I want to feel pleased and to approve of myself for having acted honourably, but I always repent as if I had committed a sin! But in the case of Másha, on the contrary, I am always pleased--pleased that I did not pollute that feeling of mine.... I may fall lower still, sell all I have on me, be covered with lice and sores--but this jewel ... no, not jewel, but ray of sunshine, is still with me and in me.
PETUSHKÓV. I understand, I understand! And where is she now?
FÉDYA. I don't know! And I'd rather not know. All that belonged to a different life; and I don't want to mix it up with this....
A woman is heard screaming at a table behind. The manager and a policeman come in and take her out. Fédya and Petushkóv listen, and look on in silence. When all is quiet again,
PETUSHKÓV. Yes, your life is astonishing.
FÉDYA. No, it's most simple! You know, in the society in which I was born there are only three careers open to a man--only three. The first is to enter the civil or military service, to earn money and increase the abominations amid which we live. That was repulsive to me. Perhaps I had not the capacity for it; but above all it repelled me. Then the second is to destroy those abominations. To do that you must be a hero; and I am not a hero. And the third is to forget it all by going on the spree, drinking and singing. That is what I did. And this is what my singing has brought me to! [Drinks].
PETUSHKÓV. And what about family life? I should be happy if I had a wife. My wife ruined me.
FÉDYA. Family life? Yes, my wife was an ideal woman. She is still living. But how shall I tell you? There was no yeast in it--you know, the yeast that makes the beer froth! Well, there was nothing of that in our life: it was flat, and I wanted something to help me to forget--and one can't forget when there's no sparkle in life. Then I began to do all sorts of nasty things. And you know, we love people for the good we do them, and dislike them for the harm we do them; and I did her much harm. She seemed to love me ...
PETUSHKÓV. Why do you say "seemed"?
FÉDYA. I say it because there was never anything about her that made her creep into my soul as Másha did. But that's not what I meant to say. When she was pregnant, or nursing her baby, I used to vanish, and come home drunk; and of course, just because of that, I loved her less and less. Yes, yes! [in ecstasy] I have it! The reason I love Másha is that I did her good and not harm. That's why I love her. The other one I tormented, and therefore I don't like her.... No, after all, I simply don't like her! Was I jealous? Yes, but that too is past....
Enter Artémyev, with a cockade on his cap, dyed moustaches, and old renovated clothes.
ARTÉMYEV. Wish you a good appetite! [Bows to Fédya] I see you've made acquaintance with our painter, our artist.
FÉDYA [coldly] Yes, we are acquainted.
ARTÉMYEV [to Petushkóv] And have you finished the portrait?
PETUSHKÓV. No, I lost the order.
ARTÉMYEV [Sits down] I'm not in your way?
Fédya and Petushkóv do not answer.
PETUSHKÓV. Theodore Vasílyevich was telling me about his life.
ARTÉMYEV. Secrets? Then I won't disturb you--go on? I'm sure I don't want you. Swine! [Goes to next table and calls for beer. He listens all the time to Fédya's conversation with Petushkóv, and leans towards them without their noticing it.]
FÉDYA. I don't like that gentleman.
PETUSHKÓV. He was offended.
FÉDYA. Well, let him be! I can't stand him. He is such a fellow, my words won't come when he is there. Now with you I feel at ease, and comfortable. Well, what was I saying?
PETUSHKÓV. You were speaking about your jealousy. And how was it you parted from your wife?
FÉDYA. Ah! [Pauses and considers] It's a curious story. My wife is married ...
PETUSHKÓV. How's that? Are you divorced?
FÉDYA [smiles] No, I left her a widow.
PETUSHKÓV. What do you mean?
FÉDYA. I mean that she's a widow! I don't exist.
PETUSHKÓV. Don't exist?
FÉDYA. No, I'm a corpse! Yes ... [Artémyev leans over, listening] Well, you see--I can tell you about it; and besides, it happened long ago; and you don't know my real name. It was this way. When I had tired out my wife and had squandered everything I could lay my hands on, and had become unbearable, a protector turned up for her. Don't imagine that there was anything dirty or bad about it--no, he was my friend and a very good fellow--only in everything my exact opposite! And as there is far more evil than good in me, it follows that he was a good--a very good man: honourable, firm, self-restrained and, in a word, virtuous. He had known my wife from her childhood, and loved her. When she married me he resigned himself to his fate. But later, when I became horrid and tormented her, he began to come oftener to our house. I myself wished it. They fell in love with one another, and meanwhile I went altogether to the bad, and abandoned my wife of my own accord. And besides, there was Másha. I myself advised them to marry. They did not want to, but I became more and more impossible, and it ended in ...
PETUSHKÓV. The usual thing?
FÉDYA. No. I am sure; I know for certain that they remained pure. He is a religious man, and considers marriage without the Church's blessing a sin. So they began asking me to agree to a divorce. I should have had to take the blame on myself. It would have been necessary to tell all sorts of lies ... and I couldn't! Believe me, it would have been easier for me to take my life than to tell such lies--and I wished to do so. But then a kind friend came and said, "Why do it?" and arranged it all for me. I wrote a farewell letter, and next day my clothes, pocket-book and letters were found on the river bank. I can't swim.
PETUSHKÓV. Yes, but how about the body? They did not find that!
FÉDYA. They did! Fancy! A week later somebody's body was found. My wife was called to identify the decomposing body. She just glanced at it. "Is it he?" "It is
." And so it was left. I was buried, and they married and are living in this town, happily. And I--here I am, living and drinking! Yesterday I passed their house. The windows were lit up, and someone's shadow crossed the blind. Sometimes it's horrid, and sometimes not. It's horrid when I've no money ... [Drinks].
ARTÉMYEV [approaches] Excuse me, but I heard your story. It's a very good story, and more than that--a very useful one! You say it's horrid when one has no money? There's nothing more horrid. But you, in your position, should always have money. Aren't you a corpse? Well then ...