Tropachev [with some agitation]: You told me ... I do not remember . . .
Eletski [continues drily and sharply]: Yes, Flegont Aleksandrych. I confess that I am rather surprised. . . . What fun is there for you, with your bringing up, — yes with your bringing up, — to indulge in such nonsensical jokes, and for two days in succession?
Tropachev [making a sign with his hand to Karpachov, who jumps back a little]: However, permit me, Pavel Nikolaich ... I surely ... I fully agree with you, although on the other hand ... Is your wife well?
Eletski: Yes, she will soon be in here. [Smiling and shaking Tropachev’s hand.] You will pardon me. . . I am not in a good mood to - day.
Tropachev: Oh, nonsense, Pavel Nikolaich, that doesn’t matter. Moreover, you are right. With these people, it isn’t quite proper to be too familiar. [Eletski shudders a little.] What nice weather we are having to - day. [4 short silence.]
I’m sure now that you are right. It is awful to live in the country long. On se rouille a la campagne. It is terrible. It’s monotonous, don’t you know. There is no choice . . .
Eletski: Please, please don’t speak about it any more, Flegont Aleksandrych. Be so kind . . .
Teopachev: No, no — I’m just speaking in general. . . . Just a general remark. [Again a short silence.] I don’t think I told you, but I’m going abroad next winter.
Eletski: Ah! [To Kuzovkin, who wants to go out again.] Remain a little while, Yasili Semenych, I want to talk to you.
Teopachev: I’m thinking of remaining abroad for two years. How about the madame? Shall we have the pleasure of seeing her to - day?
Eletski: Surely. Don’t you want to take a walk in the garden? Don’t you see the point? Un petit tour. But permit me not to accompany you. I want to say something to Vasili Semenych. . . . However, I may meet you in a few minutes.
Tropachev: Do as you like, ha, ha, ha — my dear Pavel Nikolaich. Do what you want to do without any hurry, and we, with this mortal, meanwhile, will drink in the beauties of nature. I could die looking at nature. Venez ici, Karpach.
[Both go out.]
Eletski [follows them to the door and shuts it after them. He returns to Kuzovkin and crosses his arms]: My dear sir, yesterday I considered you a foolish and drunken man. To - day I must consider you a slanderer and intriguer. Don’t interrupt me. An intriguer and slanderer. Olga Petrovna has told me all about it. You perhaps didn’t expect that. How will you explain your behavior? This morning you confessed to me that what you said yesterday was a pure and simple invention of yours, and now while conversing with my wife . . .
Kuzovkin: I am guilty ... My heart . . .
Eletski: I don’t care anything about your heart! I ask you again have you lied? [Kuzovkin is silent.] Have you lied?
Kuzovkin: I have told you, once, that yesterday I didn’t know what I was saying.
Eletski: And to - day you knew what you were saying? And after all this, you have enough nerve left to look a respectable man in the face? And shame isn’t consuming you at all?
Kuzovkin: Pavel Nikolaich, so help me God, you are excessively severe with me. Imagine, what benefit could I have derived from my conversation with Olga Petrovna?
Eletski: I’ll tell you what benefit! You hoped, by this absurd story, to awaken her compassion towards you. You were figuring upon her magnanimity. . . . You wanted money, money. . . . Yes, yes, you wanted money. And I must tell you, that you have accomplished your object. Listen to me. My wife and I have resolved to give you the necessary sum for your existence, with the proviso, however, . . .
Kuzovkin: I do not want anything!
Eletski: Don’t interrupt me, sir! With the proviso, however, that you make your home as far away from here as possible. And I, on my part, will add the following: Accepting the sum of money from us, you admit by this action that you have lied. ... I see this word makes you shrink, from your thought, and, consequently, you deny yourself every right . . .
Kuzovkin: But I will not take a single copper from you!
Eletski: How’s that, sir? That means then that you are obstinate. That means then that I must take it for granted that you told the truth. Will you have the goodness to explain yourself?
Kuzovkin: I have nothing to say. You may think of me whatever you like, but I am not going to take anything from you.
Eletski: What does that mean? Am I to understand that you’re going to remain here too?
Kuzovkin: I shall leave this house before the day’s over!
Eletski: You will go away? But in what position will you leave Olga Petrovna? You should have thought of that before if you had had a bit of manhood left in you.
Kuzovkin: Let me go, Pavel Nikolaich. So help me God, my head is all a - swimming. What do you want of me?
Eletski: I want to know whether you will take that money. Maybe you think that the sum is an insignificant one. We shall give you ten thousand rubles.
Kuzovkin: I cannot take anything.
Eletski: You cannot? That means then that my wife is your ... I cannot get that word past my lips!
Kuzovkin: I don’t know anything. . . . Let me go. [Wants to go.]
Eletski: That’s too much. Do you know that I can force you to apologize?
Kuzovkin: And how will you do that, may I ask?
Eletski: Don’t get me out of patience. Don’t force me to remind you who you are.
Kuzovkin: I am a nobleman by lineage — that’s who I am.
Eletski: A fine nobleman you are, I dare say!
Kuzovkin: Such as it is, but it is not to be bought.
Eletski: Listen . . .
Kuzovkin: You may behave that way towards your subordinates in St. Petersburg.
Eletski: Listen, you obstinate old man, you surely do not want to insult your benefactress. You have already admitted once the injustice of your words. Then it won’t be much to you to satisfy Olga Petrovna again, and to take the money which we oiler you. Or are you so rich that ten thousand rubles doesn’t mean anything to you?
Kuzovkin: I am not rich, Pavel Nikolaich, but your offer is so bitter, so terribly bitter. I already have swallowed enough shame and abuse. Yes, it pleases you to say that I am in need of money, but I do not need any. I shall not take even one ruble from you.
Eletski: Oh, I know what you are figuring on. You are pretending not to be greedy only because you think that you will gain more by so pretending. I am telling you for the last time, either take the money upon those conditions which I proposed to you or I shall take recourse to such measures . . . to such measures . . .
Kuzovkin: Oh, Lord, what do you want of me? Isn’t it enough for you that I am going away from here? Do you want me to besmirch myself? Do you want to buy me? . . . No, sir, Pavel Nikolaich, that will never be!
Eletski: Oh, to the devil with it! I’ll ... [At this moment, Tropachev is heard singing under the window.] This is unbearable! [Going up to the window.] Eight away, right away! [To Kuzovkin.] I am giving you a quarter of an hour to think it over. . . . Then do not regret . . . [Goes out.]
Kuzovkin [alone]: Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! What do they want of me? I’d rather be dead. I have ruined myself. My tongue is my enemy. This gentleman ... He spoke to me as to a dog ... as though I had no conscience, but if he were to kill me . . . [Olga enters from the office. She has papers in her hand. Kuzovkin looks around.] Oh, Lord . . .
Olga [irresolutely going up to Kuzovkin]: I wanted to see you once more, Vasili Semenych.
Kuzovkin [not looking at her]: Olga Petrovna . . . why . . . your husband . . . why did you tell him? . . .
Olga: I have no secrets from my husband, Vasili Semenych.
Kuzovkin: So . . .
Olga [quickly]: He believed me. [Lowering her voice.] And is satisfied with everything.
Kuzovkin: Satisfied? What is he satisfied with?
Olga: Vasili Semenych, you are a kind and honorable man. You will understand me. Tell me, can you remain here?
Kuzovkin: No, I cannot.
Olg
a: No, listen to me. I want to know your opinion. I have had time enough to appreciate you, Vasili Semenych. Tell me, tell me frankly . . .
Kuzovkin: I feel your kindness, Olga Petrovna, and believe me, I am also capable of appreciating . . . [He stops, then continues after a sigh.] No, I cannot remain here. Under no circumstances can I remain here. They may give me a beating yet in my old age. What may they not do? Now, of course, I am estranged. And there was no master in the house for a long time. There was nobody, don’t you know . . . But the old folks are still alive. They haven’t forgotten me yet — that I lived with your deceased father in the role of a family buffoon. I used to make a fool of myself under the persuasion of a stick, and sometimes even your own father . . . [Olga turns away.] Don’t be angry at me, Olga Petrovna. But after all is said and done, I am only a stranger to you. I cannot remain here.
Olga: If that’s the case . . . Take . . . this . . . [She stretches the hand with the paper out to him.]
Kuzovkin [accepts it with some doubt]: What’s this?
Olga: This . . . We have assigned ... a sum to redeem your village, Vietrovo. I hope that you will not refuse us; that is, you will not refuse me.
Kuzovkin [drops the paper and covers his face with his hand]: Olga Petrovna, why do you also insult me?
Olga: How’s that?
Kuzovkin: You’re trying to buy me off. I told you that I haven’t any kind of proof. How do you know that I haven’t invented all this; that after all I had some design . . .
Olga [quickly interrupting him]: If I didn’t believe you, would we consent . . .
Kuzovkin: You believe me! Then what more do I want? What do I want that paper for? From my childhood I have never indulged myself, and I am not going to begin now in my old age. I don’t need anything more than a piece of bread — that’s all. If you believe me . . . [He breaks on Olga: Yes, yes ... I believe you. I am sure you are not deceiving me ... I believe you, I believe you . . . [Suddenly she embraces him and puts her head on his chest.]
Kuzovkin [shaking with emotion]: My dear, dear Olga Petrovna. Enough . . . enough . . . Olga . . . [He drops into the chair on the left.]
Olga [holding him with one hand, and with the other picking up the paper from the floor, and pressing herself to him.] You might have refused a strange, rich woman. You could Tiave refused my husband, but a daughter — your own daughter — you cannot and must not refuse! [Puts the paper in his hand.]
Kuzovkin [accepting the paper with tears]: Please, Olga Petrovna, please command me to do anything you wish. I am both ready and glad. Command me to go to the end of the world and I will go. Now I can die. Now I don’t want anything any more . . . [Olga wipes his tears away with her handkerchief.] Oh, Olga, Olga . . .
Olga: Don’t cry, don’t cry. . . . We’ll see one another. You will be coming to see . . .
Kuzovkin: Oh, Olga Petrovna, Olga . . . Am I living through this in a dream or in reality?
Olga: Enough, enough .. . .
Kuzovkin [quickly]: Olga, get up! Somebody’s coming. [Olga, who has almost been sitting in his lap, jumps to her feet quickly.] Give me your hand, your hand for the last time. [He quickly kisses her hand, and she goes away to one side.]
[Kuzovkin wants to rise but cannot. Through the door on the right, Eletski and Tropachev enter. Karpachov follows them. Olga goes to meet them, passing by Kuzovkin, and remains standing with her back to him.]
Tropachev [bowing affectedly]: Enfin, now we have the good fortune to see Olga Petrovna. How’s your health?
Olga: Thank you, I am very well.
Tropachev: Your face is as . . .
Eletski [interrupting]: My wife and I are not feeling well to - day.
Tropachev: Well, then, here is my sympathy, ha, ha, ha! And your garden, I must say, is most beautiful!
[Kuzovkin rises with great effort.]
Olga: I am very glad to know that you like our garden.
Tropachev [as though he were insulted]: Permit me to say that it is the most charming garden. Mais, c’est tr&s beau, tres beau. The paths, the flowers — in fact everything . . . Yes, yes, nature and poetry — they are my weaknesses. What do I see? Albums! This is like in a capital salon.
Eletski [looking expressively at his wife, and speaking drawlingly]: Did you succeed in the arrangements? [Olga shakes her head. Out of courtesy, Tropachev turns away.] Did he accept, hm? Very well. [Taking her a little to one side.] I repeat, I do not believe one word of his whole story, but I approve it for your sake. Family happiness is worth more than ten thousand rubles.
Olga [returning to Tropachev, who has commenced looking over the album]: What are you busying yourself with, Flegont Aleksandrych?
Tropachev: Oh, with your album. It is so pleasing. Tell me, are you acquainted with the Kovrinskis?
Olga: No, I am not.
Tropachev: How’s that? Have you never been acquainted with them? Get acquainted, I advise you. Their house is almost the best one in the county, or, to be more precise, it was the best house until yesterday. Ha, ha, ha!
Eletski [having gone up to Kuzovkin]: Are you going to take the money?
Kuzovkin: Yes, sir, I am.
Eletski: That means then that you lied.
Kuzovkin: I did.
Eletski: Eh . . . [Turning to Tropachev, who affectedly twists his body in the presence of Olga.] Flegont Aleksandrych, we laughed and joked yesterday over Vasili Semenych, but he has won his case. We just received the news, while we were walking in the garden.
Tropachev: You don’t mean it!
Eletski: Yes, yes, I do — Olga told me that just now. Ask him yourself.
Tropachev: Is that right, Vasili Semenych?
Kuzovkin [who from now on until the end of the act is laughing like a child, speaks in a ringing voice, but with a slight trembling forced by tears]: Yes, yes, I am getting it back — I am getting it back.
Tropachev: Accept my congratulations, Vasili Semenych. I congratulate you. [Semi - audibly to Eletski.] I understand ... In a very nice way you send him away from here after yesterday’s . . . [Eletski wants to assure him that that is not the case.] Oh, yes, yes . . . And how nice, how magnanimous, how refined ... It is very well done. I am willing to make a bet that this thought [with a smile at Olga] dawned on your wife, although you are also surely . . . [Eletski smiles, Tropachev continues loudly.] Very well, very well. So now you must go there, Vasili Semenych. You must take up the management.
Kuzovkin: Surely.
Eletski: Vasili Semenych told me just now that he expected to go there to - day.
Tropachev: Positively so. I fully understand his impatience, ha, ha, ha! The devil take it! They’ve led him around long enough, but finally he has got his estate . . . Why shouldn’t he want to go there and see his worldly possessions. Am I not right, Vasili Semenych?
Kuzovkin: Yes, sir, you are quite right.
Tropachev: You will undoubtedly have to go to the City too.
Kuzovkin: Most likely. I’ll get everything in order.
Tropachev: Then you mustn’t linger. [Winking to Eletski.] Lychkov, the lawyer, must be a great fellow. He’s the one that did it all! [To Kuzovkin.] And are you glad?
Kuzovkin: Yes, sir, why shouldn’t I be glad?
Tropachev: Will you permit me to call at the house - warming, hm?
Kuzovkin: You will do me great honor, Flegont Aleksandrych.
Tropachev [turning to Eletski]: Pavel Nikolaich, we’ll have to have a house - warming, won’t we?
Eletski [somewhat hesitatingly]: Yes . . . Maybe. Yes . . . [Goes up to the sitting - room door.] Call Trembinski.
Trembinski [quickly appearing in the doorway]: What do you wish, sir?
Eletski: Oh, you’re here? A bottle of champagne.
Trembinski [as he disappears]: Yes, sir.
Eletski: Oh, listen. [Trembinski turns around.] I think I saw Mr. Ivanov in the sitting - room. If so, call him in.
Trembinski: Yes, sir.
Tropachev [going up to Olga, who has b
een standing all this time at the table, alternately playing with the albums, and looking at Kuzovkin]: Madame Kovrinski will be most unusually happy to get acquainted with you. . . . Enchantee, enchantee. I hope that you will like her. I am in her house as in my own. She is a bright woman, and don’t you know, so . . . [Whirls his finger in the air.]
Olga [smiling]: Hm!
Tropachev: You’ll see. [Trembinski enters with bottles and glasses on a tray.] Well, Vasili Semenych, permit me to congratulate you, heartily.
[Ivanov enters, stops at the door, and bows.] Olga [kindly to Ivanov]: How do you do? I am very glad to see you. Have you heard the news, that your friend has come into his own?
A Sportsman's Sketches: Works of Ivan Turgenev 1 Page 366