Man From the USSR & Other Plays

by Vladimir Nabokov

  OSHIVENSKI

  Good-by and good luck. We’ll meet in Paradise, God willing.

  MARIANNA

  (apathetically)

  Yes, yes, we’ll phone each other some time, (leaves)

  OSHIVENSKI

  Floozie!

  MRS. OSHIVENSKI

  Vitya, I didn’t want to say it in front of her, or else all of Berlin would find out that our house is frequented by Bolsheviks. He came for the parcel.

  OSHIVENSKI

  Why didn’t you ask him to wait? You’re really something!

  MRS. OSHIVENSKI

  Just a minute....He promised to stop by again before he leaves, (knock at the door) Come in. Herein.

  (Fyodor Fyodorovich enters; he is wearing a khaki suit with a belted jacket, and carries a walking stick.)

  FYODOR FYODOROVICH

  I ran into Marianna Sergeyevna right outside your building and, can you imagine, she didn’t recognize me. Downright amazing!

  MRS. OSHIVENSKI

  Well, what’s new, Fyodor Fyodorovich? Did you find something?

  FYODOR FYODOROVICH

  I did. Five Paradise Street, care of Engel; courtyard entrance, fifth floor. Unprepossessing but extremely cheap room.

  MRS. OSHIVENSKI

  How much is it?

  FYODOR FYODOROVICH

  Twenty-five. Including gas lighting and use of kitchen.

  OSHIVENSKI

  This is all idle talk.... We can’t move out of here without paying anyway. And not a pfennig to our name.

  FYODOR FYODOROVICH

  Now don’t you worry, Victor Ivanovich. It’s true I don’t have any money either, but I think I can come up with some by tomorrow.

  OSHIVENSKI

  We’ve got to move out today. (strikes the table) Anyway, that’s beside the point. If we don’t croak here, we’ll croak there....

  MRS. OSHIVENSKI

  Oh, Vitya, stop saying such horrid things. Fyodor Fyodorovich, did you say use of the kitchen was included?

  FYODOR FYODOROVICH

  Absolutely. Want to go have a look at it right now?

  MRS. OSHIVENSKI

  Yes—let’s, dear. Why waste time?

  FYODOR FYODOROVICH

  As for me, I’m in a really jolly mood today. A pal of mine in Paris bought four taxicabs and is hiring me as a driver. He’s even sending money for my ticket. I’m already working on my visa.

  OSHIVENSKI

  (through clenched teeth, shaking his head in time to the words)

  Oh, isn’t life wonderful!

  FYODOR FYODOROVICH

  Of course it’s wonderful. I like variety. I’m grateful to Communism—it made us discover the whole wide world. Now I’m going to see Paris—new city, new impressions, the Eiffel Tower. It’s a great feeling....

  MRS. OSHIVENSKI

  All right, I’m ready. Let’s go.

  OSHIVENSKI

  (to Fyodor Fyodorovich)

  You and your Eiffel Tower....Oh, well....

  FYODOR FYODOROVICH

  Now don’t you worry, Victor Ivanovich. Everything will be fine. You’ll see. The room is clean, I’d even say very clean.

  MRS. OSHIVENSKI

  Come, dear, hurry up.

  FYODOR FYODOROVICH

  Bye-bye, Victor Ivanovich.

  (Fyodor Fyodorovich and Mrs. Oshivenski leave. Oshivenski sits motionless for some time, hunched over and with the fingers of his hand, numbed by the drumming, outspread on the edge of the table. Then, outside the window, the squeaky, cracking strains of a very poorly played violin become audible. It is the same melody that Olga Pavlovna heard at the opening of A ct II.)

  OSHIVENSKI

  Oh, that damn music! I’d like to take those catgut scrapers and...

  (With a loud banging Kuznetsoff hurries in, carrying a suitcase. He, too, hears the violin and, while setting down the suitcase, holds it for a second in midair. The music breaks off.)

  KUZNETSOFF

  That’s amusing—I know that tune, (sits down) So. At your service.

  OSHIVENSKI

  You see me in a moment of dire distress. I wanted to ask for your help.

  KUZNETSOFF

  I heard your little tavern folded, isn’t that so?

  OSHIVENSKI

  That’s the whole point. I invested every last penny in it. Everything went down the drain.

  KUZNETSOFF

  Is this furniture yours?

  OSHIVENSKI

  No. It came with the room. I don’t have anything of my own.

  KUZNETSOFF

  So what do you plan to do now?

  OSHIVENSKI

  That’s the problem. Do you think you might be able to give me some kind of advice? I’d really like to have some advice from you.

  KUZNETSOFF

  You want something practical, something specific?

  OSHIVENSKI

  Here’s what I want to ask you: do you think that perhaps the concept itself contains some kind of hidden flaw?

  KUZNETSOFF

  Come on, come to the point. What concept?

  OSHIVENSKI

  Okay. If you insist that I spell things out for you, I’ll be explicit. Say I—Mr. Ivanov, together with Mr. Petrov and Mr. Semyonov, decided, a few years ago, to winter at the Devil’s quarters—in other words, to become émigrés, God willing. Now I ask you: do you find this wise, necessary, expedient? Or is the very concept silly?

  KUZNETSOFF

  Oh, I see. What you’re trying to say is that you’re fed up with being an émigré.

  OSHIVENSKI

  I’m fed up with the accursed existence I’ve been leading here. I’m fed up with perpetual indigence, Berlin back alleys, the repulsive rasp of a foreign tongue, this furniture, these newspapers, all these trashy trappings of émigré life. I am a former landowner. I was ruined right at the start. But I want you to understand: I don’t need my land back. I need the Russian land. And if I were given the chance to set foot on it for no other reason than to dig my own grave, I would accept.

  KUZNETSOFF

  Let’s put it all simply, without metaphors. So you’d like to come to the USSR, that is, to Russia?

  OSHIVENSKI

  I know you are a Communist—that’s why I can be candid with you. I renounce the émigré pipe dream. I recognize the Soviet Government. I ask you to intercede on my behalf.

  KUZNETSOFF

  Are you being serious?

  OSHIVENSKI

  I have no intention of joking at a time like this. I have the feeling that with your protection they would pardon me, give me a passport, let me into Russia.

  KUZNETSOFF

  First of all, get out of the habit of saying “Russia.” The country has a different name now. Secondly, I must inform you of the following: people like you do not get pardoned by the Soviet Government. I can perfectly well believe that you have a desire to go home. But everything else you say is claptrap. You reek of the old regime from over a thousand miles away. It may not be your fault, but it’s so.

  OSHIVENSKI

  Hey, just a minute! How dare you use that tone with me? What do you think you’re going to do, lecture me?

  KUZNETSOFF

  I am fulfilling your request. You wanted my opinion, didn’t you?

  OSHIVENSKI

  What do I care about your opinion. I’m so homesick I could die, and you talk to me of old regimes. All right, I’ll be frank with you. I decided in my old age to do a little boot-licking, and I don’t know how to do it, I simply don’t. I’m dying to see Russia, it’s true. But to prostrate myself before the Soviets ... no, my friend, you’ve got the wrong person. If you allow me, I’ll be glad to fill out an application ... and I’ll go—but once I’m there I’ll go to your phony heroes and spit in their faces, in the faces of all that thieving riffraff.

  KUZNETSOFF

  (consulting his watch)

  Well, now at least you’re being sincere. Can I consider our conversation terminated?

  O
SHIVENSKI

  Oh, there’s lots more I’d like to say to you. But you’re in my home and I wouldn’t feel right about it....

  KUZNETSOFF

  Now may I take leave of you?

  (Olga Pavlovna enters without knocking.)

  KUZNETSOFF

  I didn’t think I’d see you again before leaving.

  OSHIVENSKI

  What’s the matter, Olga Pavlovna, why are you standing there like a statue? Come in, come in....

  OLGA PAVLOVNA

  No, Alyosha, I didn’t either, (to Oshivenski) Actually, I dropped by because not long ago I had a call from Marianna, who happened to mention that you were planning to move—Oh, you have your suitcase here too—And ... oh, yes ... I thought it must be very hard for you, with no money and all....

  OSHIVENSKI

  No, it’s all right. We’ll dig some up, somewhere. It doesn’t matter much.

  OLGA PAVLOVNA

  Nevertheless ... I do have a little extra cash.

  OSHIVENSKI

  Oh well, if that’s the case.... I’m very grateful. Yes, yes, it’s more than enough. I’ll give it back to you in three days.

  OLGA PAVLOVNA

  There, I’m glad. That’ll be fine. There’s no rush.

  OSHIVENSKI

  I’ll leave you two alone. Thanks for the very pleasant chat, Mr. Kuznetsoff. I have to go down and discuss something with the landlady, (hurries out)

  OLGA PAVLOVNA

  Alyosha, forgive me if we ran into each other again. It’s time for you to leave for the station, isn’t it?

  KUZNETSOFF

  That radiant expression on your face....Oh, Olya, Olya....

  OLGA PAVLOVNA

  Naturally I’m glad it turned out this way. You’re so funny. Do you have to leave at once?

  KUZNETSOFF

  Yes, in ten minutes. What in hell ever made me come to see that old grouch. Incidentally, you know, if he were younger I might actually have even been able to use him for some minor assignment. In tandem with Taubendorf, or something like that.

  OLGA PAVLOVNA

  Listen, let’s not talk about trifles right now. When we were saying good-by before I restrained myself. But now I feel like rebelling a little.

  KUZNETSOFF

  You call my work a trifle? Then it’s really true—you were lying to me?

  OLGA PAVLOVNA

  Alyosha, you know perfectly well I was lying to you. If you chose to ignore it, it’s your business. Tomorrow, maybe, I’ll regret that I blurted all this out to you. But right now I can’t help it.

  KUZNETSOFF

  (smiling)

  Olya, please, don’t blurt.

  OLGA PAVLOVNA

  No, no—wait. We’ve already said good-by, haven’t we? You’ve left. Imagine that you’ve left. And right now you’re only reminiscing about me. There’s nothing more honest than reminiscence.

  KUZNETSOFF

  Olya, I’ll tell you one more time: my work, to me, is.... Anyway, you know that without my having to tell you. But here’s something you don’t know: I’ve done things after which any personal life—affairs of the heart and so on—is impossible for me....

  OLGA PAVLOVNA

  Oh, Alyosha, this is all silly nonsense. I’m sick and tired of it. Since fate decided we should meet now, I know what fate wants.

  KUZNETSOFF

  Last year, when I was in Russia, the following incident occurred. The Soviet sleuths got wind of something. I sensed that if I did not take resolute action they would eventually get to the bottom of it. And you know what I did? I deliberately let three people, minor pawns in my organization, go before the firing squad. Don’t start thinking I regret it one bit. I don’t. That gambit saved the whole project. I knew perfectly well that those people would accept the entire guilt, rather than betray the least detail of our work. And the trail vanished into thin air.

  OLGA PAVLOVNA

  That’s all very frightening. But I fail to see how it can change anything. Even if you began forging bank notes, that wouldn’t change anything. Really, Alyosha, let’s talk like humans.

  KUZNETSOFF

  But how, with a life like that, can you expect me to have room for any sentiments or attachments? And the main thing—and I’ve told you this already—is that I don’t want anybody being afraid for me, thinking about me, waiting for me, agonizing if, because of some stupid quirk of fate.... What are you smiling for, Olya?—it’s silly.

  OLGA PAVLOVNA

  If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t care whether I was afraid for you or waiting for you. And, you see, I’ll be much less afraid if you leave knowing that I love you. It’s very funny: I love you a thousand times more than I did at first, when we were living together.

  KUZNETSOFF

  I’ve got to go. Oh, all right, Olya, I’ll make a confession: it’s not easy for me to sacrifice certain feelings. But for the moment the sacrifice has to be made. And now let’s go. Walk me to my taxi.

  OLGA PAVLOVNA

  No, wait—first let’s sit down a moment. In the old days we always used to sit down before departures, (sits down on a wicker hamper)

  KUZNETSOFF

  All right. Only don’t smile like that. After all, one is supposed to remain silent.

  OLGA PAVLOVNA

  You’re smiling too....(The clock strikes seven.)

  KUZNETSOFF

  (getting up)

  So. Time to go.

  OLGA PAVLOVNA

  (rushing to him)

  And if I don’t let you go? How can I live without you?

  KUZNETSOFF

  (placing his hands on her shoulders)

  Olya, I’m going to the USSR so that you will be able to come to Russia. And everybody will be there.... Old Oshivenski living out his days, and Kolya Taubendorf, and that funny Fyodor Fyodorovich. Everybody.

  OLGA PAVLOVNA

  (pressing against him)

  And you, Alyosha—where will_you be?

  KUZNETSOFF

  (picks up his suitcase, puts the other arm around his wife, and both walk slowly toward the door; as they do so Kuznetsoff speaks gently and somewhat mysteriously.)

  Listen—once upon a time there lived in Toulon an artillery officer, and that very same artillery officer—

  (They leave.)

  CURTAIN

  The Event

  A DRAMATIC COMEDY IN THREE ACTS

  Nabokov’s annotated program for the Russian Theatre production of The Event in Paris, April 1938. He graded the actors on a scale from 1 to 5. Annenkov, the director and set designer, whose name had been omitted, was in large part responsible for the play’s success. The comment on Lyubov’ is “(but pretty)”; the comment on Uncle Paul is “(plus for the goldfish).”

  INTRODUCTORY NOTE

  The Event (Sobytie) was completed in 1938 in Menton, France. It was published in the émigré review Russkie Zapiski (Annales russes), Paris, for April 1938.

  It was first produced by the “Russian Theatre,” in Paris in March 1938. The director and set designer was the artist Yuri Annenkov. The play’s originality provoked many echoes and much discussion in the émigré press. It played to a full theatre and had such success that there were several additional performances. It was staged, in Russian, in Prague in May of the same year, and in Warsaw and Belgrade in 1941. On 4 April 1941 it was put on in New York, again in Russian, at the Heckscher Theatre. G. S. Ermolov directed and played the part of Troshcheykin. The sets were by Dobuzhinsky, and included a splendid cracked plate and a counterfeit photo portrait, presumably of the Troshcheykins’ dead child. These cardboard survivors now hang in Mother’s parlor in Montreux.

  The translation is literal with very minor adjustments only where the reader or theatregoer unfamiliar with the Russian idiom or the frame of reference would otherwise be hopelessly stumped.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Alexéy (Alyósha) Maxímovich Troshchéykin, a portrait painter