NIKIFOR [Points at BENYA and LYOVKA, and says to ARYE-LEIB]: Look at them! TheyVe planted themselves by the stable like oak trees!
ARYE-LEIB: This is what the great Rashi tells us: “By night” means “by day and by night.” “On my bed I sought”—who was seeking? Rashi asks. Israel was seeking! The People of Israel were seeking! “Him whom my soul loveth”—whom does Israel love? Rashi asks! Israel loves the Torah, and the Torah loves Israel!
NIKIFOR: What I want to know is, what are they loafing by the stable for?
BENYA: Thats right, go on shouting!
NIKIFOR [Pacing up and down the courtyard,.]: I know what I know. . . . My horse collars keep disappearing. I can suspect whoever I want!
ARYE-LEIB: Here an old man is trying to teach the law to a child, and you, Nikifor, keep interfering!
NIKIFOR: Why have they planted themselves by the stable like damn oak trees?
BENYA [Takes his revolver apart and cleans it.]: Nikifor, I see you’re all nerves.
NIKIFOR [ShoutSy but his voice is weak.]: I’m not your slave! If you want to know, I have a brother who lives out in the country, still in his prime! If you want to know, my brother would gladly take me in!
BENYA: Shout, shout as much as you want before you die!
NIKIFOR [To ARYE-LEIB.]: Old man, tell me why they’re doing this to me!
ARYE-LEIB [Raises his bleary eyes and looks at NIKIFOR.]: I’m trying to teach the law, and you’re bellowing like a cow! Is this how things should be in this world?
NIKIFOR: Your eyes are open, old man, but you do not see!
[NIKIFOR leaves.]
BENYA: Our Nikifor seems a little worried!
ARYE-LEIB: “By night on my bed I sought...” Whom was she seeking? What does Rashi teach us?
THE BOY: Rashi teaches us: “She was seeking the Torah.”
[Loud voices are heard.]
BENYA: The time is coming. Step aside, Lyovka! Make way for time!
[MENDEL, BOBRINETS, NIKIFOR, and PYATIRUBEL enter. PYATIRUBEL is slightly tipsy.]
BOBRINETS [.Deafeningly loud.]: If you’re not going to cart my wheat down to the harbor, Mendel, then who the hell will? If I’m not going to come to you Mendel, then who should I go to?
MENDEL: I’m not the only carter in the world. There’s other carters besides me.
BOBRINETS: You’re the only carter in Odessa—or are you trying to send me over to Butsis with his three-legged mules, or to Zhuravlenko with his broken-down tubs?
MENDEL [Not looking at his sons.]: Someone’s hanging around my stables again!
NIKIFOR: They’ve struck root there, like damn oak trees.
BOBRINETS: You’ll harness ten pairs of horses for me tomorrow, Mendel, you’ll cart the wheat for me, you’ll get the money, down a bottle of vodka, sing a few songs. . . . Ai, Mendel!
PYATIRUBEL: Ai, Mendel!
MENDEL: Why are people hanging around my stables?
NIKIFOR: Master, for God’s sake!
MENDEL: Well?
NIKIFOR: Run for it, master . . . your sons . . .
MENDEL: My sons what?
NIKIFOR: Your sons are out to get you!
BENYA [Jumps down from the cart. His head down, he speaks distinctly.]: Papa, I happened to hear, from strangers, no less—both my brother, Lyovka, and I, we both heard—that you intend to sell the family business into which we have sunk a gold ruble or two and our own sweat!
[Neighbors working in their yards come to see what is happening. ]
MENDEL [Looking down.]: People, neighbors . . .
BENYA: Did we hear right, me and my brother Lyovka?
MENDEL: People, neighbors, take a look at my own flesh and blood [He
raises his head and his voice gets stronger.], my very own flesh and blood, lifting a hand to strike me. . . .
BENYA: Did we hear right, me and my brother Lyovka?
MENDEL: You wont get me! [He throws himself at LYOVKA, punches him in the face, and knocks him down.]
LYOVKA: We will get you!
[The sky is flooded by a blood-red sunset. MENDEL and LYOVKA roll on the ground, punching each other in the face.
They roll behind a shed.]
NIKIFOR [Leaning against the wall.]: Oh, what sin!
BOBRINETS: Lyovka! Hitting your own father!
BENYA [In a desperate voice.]: I swear to you on my life! He has thrown everything—our horses, our house, our life—he has thrown everything at the feet of that whore!
NIKIFOR: Oh, what sin!
PYATIRUBEL: Til kill anyone who tries to separate them! Dont anyone dare touch them!
[Wheezing and groaning is heardfrom behind the shed.]
PYATIRUBEL: The man is yet to be born who can stand up to Mendel!
ARYE-LEIB [To the boy.]: Ivan, get out of the yard!
PYATIRUBEL: I’m ready to put a hundred rubles down—
ARYE-LEIB: Ivan, get out of the yard!
[MENDEL and LYOVKA roll outfrom behind the shed. They jump to theirfeet, but MENDEL knocks LYOVKA down again.]
BOBRINETS: Lyovka! Hitting your own father!
MENDEL: You wont get me! [He starts kicking his son.]
PYATIRUBEL: Im ready to put a hundred rubles down for anyone who’s interested!
[MENDEL has won. Some of LYOVKA i teeth are broken, tufts of his hair have been pulled out.]
MENDEL: You wont get me!
BENYA: Just watch us!
[ With greatforce BENYA hits his father on the head with the butt of his revolver. MENDEL falls down. Silence.
The sunset’s blazing forests of cloud sink lower and lower.]
NIKIFOR: TheyVe killed him!
PYATIRUBEL [Bends over MENDEL, who is lying motionless on the ground.]'. Mendel?
LYOVKA [Gets up, steadying himself with hisfists. He is crying, stamping his feet.]: He kicked me below the belt, the bastard!
PYATIRUBEL: Mendel?
BENYA [Turns to the crowd of bystanders.]: What are you all doing here? PYATIRUBEL: And I say it’s not night yet! Night is still a thousand versts away!
ARYE-LEIB [On his knees next to MENDEL, to PYATIRUBEL.]: Oy, Russian man, why say that its not night yet when it is plain to see that this man is as good as gone!
LYOVKA [Crooked streams oftears and blood run down hisface.]: He kicked me below the belt, the bastard!
PYATIRUBEL: Two against one! [He staggers toward the exit.]
ARYE-LEIB [To the boy.]: Get out of the yard, Ivan.
PYATIRUBEL: Two against one . . . its a disgrace, a disgrace for all Moldavanka! [He stumbles off]
[ARYE-LEIB wipes MENDEL s injured head with a wet handkerchief.
On the other side of the courtyard, NEKHAMA—wild, dirty-gray— is hovering about in disbelief. She comes and kneels down next to ARYE-LEIB.]
NEKHAMA: Dont be silent, Mendel!
BOBRINETS [To MENDEL, in a deep voice.]: Stop fooling around, you old clown!
NEKHAMA: Yell something, Mendel!
BOBRINETS: Get up, you old carter! Wet your whistle, down a bottle of vodka!
[LYOVKA is sitting on the ground with his legs apart. Slowly he spits out long ribbons of blood.]
BENYA [ Chases the crowd of bystanders into a corner of the courtyard. He grabs a young man of about twenty by his shirt.]: Get the hell out!
[Silence. Evening. A blue darkness has fallen, but above the darkness the sky is still hot, crimson, and pitted with fiery holes.]
Scene Seven
The KRIKS * cart shed—a pile of horse collars, unharnessed buggies, harnesses. A part of the courtyard is visible. BENYA is sitting at a small table near the doors, writing something. SEMYON, an awkward, bald-headed peasant, is arguing with him, while MADAME POPYATNIK paces up and down. MAJOR, his legs dangling, sits out in the yard, on a cart with its shafts raised. A new sign is leaning against the wall. On it, in gold letters: “Horse-Carting Establishment, Mendel Krik & Sons.” Garlands of horseshoes and crossed whips surround the letters.
SEMYON: I do
nt care! What I want is my money!
BENYA [Continues writing.]: Why so rude, Semyon?
SEMYON: Give me my money, or 111 cut your throat!
BENYA: My dear man, I spit on you!
SEMYON: Where did you hide the old man?
BENYA: The old man is sick.
SEMYON: Right here on the wall, this is where he wrote how much he owed for the oats, how much for the hay—all nice and clear. And he always paid up! Twenty years I drove for him, and he was always fair and square!
BENYA [Gets up.]: You drove for him, but you re not going to drive for me—he wrote on the wall, but Im not going to write on the wall— he paid you, but as for me, I very well might not pay you, because— MADAME POPYATNIK [Looks at the peasant with extreme disapproval1]: When a man is such an idiot—it’s disgusting!
BENYA: —because, with me, my dear fellow, you might well die before you eat your supper tonight!
SEMYON [Frightenedy but still defiant.]: I want my money!
MADAME POPYATNIK: I am no philosopher, Monsieur Krik, but I can
plainly see that there are people in this world who have no right to be alive!
BENYA: Nikifor!
[NIKIFOR enters, looking about sheepishly. He speaks reluctantly.]
NIKIFOR: Present.
BENYA: Settle up with Semyon and go over to Groshev’s.
NIKIFOR: The day laborers are here and want to know who will be doing the hiring.
BENYA: Til be doing the hiring.
NIKIFOR: And the cook is kicking up a fuss too because she pawned off her samovar to the master. Now she wants to know who she has to pay to get it back.
BENYA: She has to pay me. Settle up the business with Semyon, and bring back five hundred poods of hay from Groshev.
SEMYON Stunned.]: Five hundred? Twenty years IVe been carting—
MADAME POPYATNIK: When a man has money, he can buy hay, and oats, and even nicer things.
BENYA: And oats, two hundred poods.
SEMYON: I wouldn’t say no to carting for you!
BENYA: Semyon, lose my address!
[SEMYON kneads his hat, looks away, walks off, returns for a moment, and then walks off again.]
MADAME POPYATNIK: A damn peasant giving you all this trouble! My God, if everyone suddenly remembered who owes them money! This very morning I was telling my husband, Major: “Husband, darling, I would never ask for those miserable two rubles that Mendel Krik owes us.”
MAJOR [In a hoarse, melodious voice.]: One ruble, ninety-five kopecks.
BENYA: What two rubles?
MADAME POPYATNIK: Please, it’s not even worth mentioning, really, good heavens, it’s not even worth mentioning! Last Thursday, you see, Monsieur Krik was in a fabulous mood, and ordered marching tunes. . . . [To her husband,.] How many were there?
MAJOR: Marching tunes? Nine.
MADAME POPYATNIK: And then he wanted dance tunes.
MAJOR: Twenty-one dance tunes.
MADAME POPYATNIK: That comes to one ruble, ninety-five. Paying musicians has always been a top priority with Monsieur Krik.
[NIKIFOR enters, dragging his feet. He is looking to the side.]
NIKIFOR: Potapovna is here.
BENYA: What do I care who’s here and who isn’t!
NIKIFOR: She’s making threats.
BENYA: What do I care who’s—
[POTAPOVNA bursts in, hobbling, waving her enormous hip. She is drunk. She throws herself to the floor and stares up at BENYA with dull, fixed eyes.]
POTAPOVNA: Czars in heaven!
BENYA: Yes, Madame Potapovna?
POTAPOVNA: Czars in heaven!
NIKIFOR: She’s come to make trouble.
POTAPOVNA [Winks.]: Y-Y-Y-Yid bubbles are humming ... the bubbles are bouncing about in my head—y-y-y.
BENYA: Get to the point, Madame Potapovna!
POTAPOVNA [Bangs her fist on the floor.]: You’re right! You’re right! Let the clever man measure, and the pig dance the measureka. MADAME POPYATNIK: What a sophisticated lady!
POTAPOVNA [Throws some coins on thefloor.]: Here are the forty kopecks I earned today.... I got up before dawn, it was still dark, and waited for the peasants on Baltskaya Street. . . . [She lifts her head to the sky.] I wonder what time it is now. Maybe three o’clock?
BENYA: Get to the point, Madame Potapovna!
POTAPOVNA: Y-Y-Y, blew bubbles . . .
BENYA: Nikifor!
NIKIFOR: Yes?
POTAPOVNA [Wags herfat, weak, drunken finger at NIKIFOR.]: And now, Nikisha, my own daughter is knocked up!
MADAME POPYATNIK Totiers, burning with excitement.]: Oh, what a scandal! What a scandal!
BENYA: What are you doing here, Madame Popyatnik? What do you want?
MADAME POPYATNIK [Staggers, her eyes sparkling and fluttering with excitement.]: I’m going, I’m going! God willing we will meet again ... in happiness, in joy, in a blessed hour, in a happy minute!
[She grabs her husband by the hand and starts backing out of the room. She turns around, her eyes crossed andflickering like black flames.
MAJOR follows his wife, wiggling his fingers. They leave.]
POTAPOVNA [Smearing her tears over herflabby, wrinkledface.]'. At night I went to her, felt her breasts—I feel her breasts every night— they’re already filled with milk, they don’t even fit my hands anymore!
BENYA [His sparkle has left him. He speaks quickly, glancing furtively behind him.]: What month?
POTAPOVNA [She stares fixedly up at BENYA from where shes lying on the floor.]: Fourth.
BENYA: You’re lying!
POTAPOVNA: Okay, third.
BENYA: What do you want from us?
POTAPOVNA: Y-Y-Y, blew bubbles . . .
BENYA: What do you want?
POTAPOVNA [Tying her kerchief]: A cleanup costs one hundred rubles.
BENYA: Twenty-five!
POTAPOVNA: I’ll bring in the dockworkers!
BENYA: You’ll bring in the dockworkers? Nikifor!
NIKIFOR: Present.
BENYA: Go upstairs and ask my papa if I should hand over twenty-five—
POTAPOVNA: A hundred!
BENYA: —twenty-five rubles for a cleanup, or doesn’t he want one?
NIKIFOR: I won’t go.
BENYA: You won’t?
[BENYA rushes over to the calico curtains that divide the carting shed in two.
NIKIFOR [Grabs BENYA by the arm.]: Young man, I’m not afraid of God—I saw God and wasn’t frightened—I will kill without being frightened!
[The curtain stirs and parts. MENDEL enters. He is carrying his boots slung
over his shoulder. His face is blue and swollen, like the face of a dead man.]
MENDEL: Unlock the gates.
POTAPOVNA: Oh, my God!
NIKIFOR: Master!
[ARYE-LEIB and LYOVKA approach the cart shed.]
MENDEL: Unlock the gates.
POTAPOVNA [Crawls on the floor.]: Oh, my God!
BENYA: Go back upstairs to your wife, Papa.
MENDEL: Unlock the gates for me, Nikifor, old friend—
NIKIFOR [Falls on his knees.]: I beg you, master, don’t grovel before me, a simple man!
MENDEL: Why won’t you unlock the gates, Nikifor? Why wont you let me leave this courtyard where I have served my life sentence? [MENDELs voice becomes more powerful, his eyes glitter.] This courtyard, it has seen me be the father of my children, the husband of my wife, the master of my horses. It has seen my strength, and that of my twenty stallions and my twelve carts, reinforced with iron. It has seen my legs, huge as pillars, and my arms, my evil arms ... but now unlock the gates for me, my dear sons, today let me for once do as I wish! Let me leave this courtyard that has seen too much. . . .
BENYA: Go back in the house, Papa, to your wife.
[He approaches his father;]
MENDEL: Don’t hit me, Benchik.
LYOVKA: Don’t hit him.
BENYA: What low-down people! Pause.] How could you . . . [Paus
e.] How could you say what you just said?
ARYE-LEIB [To the onlookers.]: Dont you all see that you shouldn’t be here?
BENYA: Animals! Animals!
[BENYA rushes out. LYOVKA follows him.]
ARYE-LEIB [Leads MENDEL to the couch.]: Well rest a bit, Mendel, we’ll take a little nap. . . .
POTAPOVNA [Gets up from the floor and begins to cry.]: TheyVe killed the poor darling!
ARYE-LEIB [Helps MENDEL onto the couch behind the curtain.]: You’ll take a little nap, Mendel. . . .
POTAPOVNA [Throws herself onto the floor by the couch, and starts kissing MENDELs hand which is hanging down limply.]: My little son, my sweet little darling!
ARYE-LEIB [Covers MENDELs face with a kerchief sits down, and begins speaking in a quiet, distant voice.]: Once upon a time, in the distant past, there lived a man named David. He was a shepherd and then he was a king, the King of Israel, of Israel’s army and Israel’s wise men.
POTAPOVNA [Sobbing.]: My sweet darling!
ARYE-LEIB: David experienced wealth and experienced glory, but he was not satiated. Strength brings thirst, only grief quenches the heart. Having grown old, King David saw Bathsheba, General Uriah’s wife, on the roofs of Jerusalem, under the skies of Jerusalem. Bathsheba’s breasts were beautiful, her legs were beautiful, her gaiety was great. And General Uriah was sent into battle, and the king coupled with Bathsheba, the wife of a man not yet dead. Her breasts were beautiful, her gaiety was great. . .
Scene Eight
The KRIKS’ dining room. Evening. The room is brightly lit by a homemade hanging
lamp, candles in candelabras, and old-fashioned blue lamps fixed to the wall.
MADAME POPYATNIK, wearing a silk dress, is busy bustling about a table decorated
with flowers andfilled with food and wine. MAJOR is sitting silently in the back of
the room. His paper shirtfront is jutting out, his flute is lying on his knees. He is twiddling his fingers and bobbing his headfrom side to side. There are many guests. Some are strolling in groups about the open rooms, others sitting along the walls. The pregnant KLASHA ZUBARYEVA enters the room. She is wearing a shawl with a gigantic flower pattern. LYOVKA, wearing a hussar s parade uniform, stumbles in after her, drunk.
LYOVKA [Barks out cavalry orders.]:
Horsemen, friends!
Forward trot!
If your horses are hungry,
Then feed them a lot!
The Complete Works of Isaac Babel Reprint Edition by Isaac Babel, Nathalie Babel, Peter Constantine Page 77