Shpundik: Well, perhaps he has taken a liking to another girl. His friend, that great man, very likely introduced him to some woman . . .
Moshkin: That’s more likely. However, I don’t think it’s that. He has changed, and I cannot understand who has been the cause of it. He doesn’t look at me any more, as he used to; he doesn’t laugh any more, the way he used to, and he speaks differently, and Masha, he simply avoids. Oh, Filipp, Filipp, my lot is a hard one. It is terrible, Filipp, to think that, only recently . . . and now . . . And why? How could it all have happened?
Shpundik: Yes, yes, Misha. It is exactly . . . that . . . Well, it isn’t easy, as you say. Yet, I think that you are worrying for nothing.
Moshkin: Oh, Filipp, you don’t know. I loved him like my own son. I divided everything with him, and what I can’t understand is — if he weTe only mad at something! I should feel much easier: I shouldn’t lose hope. But as it is, he is indifferent. That’s what’s killing me, Filipp. Well, he won’t come to - day and he won’t come to - morrow, and I really don’t think he’ll ever come.
Shpundik: Yes, the poet didn’t say in vain that everything in the world is perverted. Yes
Moshkin: Well, it has just come to this: to lie down and die. [Priazhkina comes in.] Well, Ekaterina Savishna, how is it?
Priazhkina: All right, Mikhail Ivanych, all right. Don’t worry. [Shpundik bows to her.] How do you do, Filipp Egorych?
Shpundik: My respects, Ekaterina Savishna. How is your health?
Priazhkina: Thank God, sir, thank God! How is yours?
Shpundik: I am all right, thank God. How is Maria Vasilevna’s health?
Priazhkina: It is better now. But she slept very badly last night. [Sighing aloud. To Moshkin.] How about the tea, sir? Have you ordered it?
Moshkin: Yes, I have, I have. Certainly. Didn’t he bring it? Stratilat! [Stratilat enters with the samovar.] What’s the matter with you?
Stratilat: It has just boiled up. [He takes the samovar into Masha’s room.]
Shpundik [to Priazhkina]: You, I imagine, don’t leave Maria Vasilevna?
Priazhkina: How can I? There is no one to take care of her. You can see that, yourself.
Shpundik: I am quite sure you are an exemplary relative.
Priazhkina: I am very much obliged, Filipp Egorych.
Moshkin: All right, all right. [Stratilat returns from Masha’s room and hands Moshkin a letter.] From whom?
Stratilat: I don’t know.
Moshkin [looking at the hand - writing]: That’s Petru - sha’s hand - writing! [Opens it quickly and reads; Shpundik and Priazhkina look at him attentively. Moshkin grows terribly pale while reading and on finishing drops in a chair. Shpundik and Priazhkina start to go to his assistance, but he immediately gets up and talks in a broken voice.] Who . . . this . . . who . . . there . . . brought . . . who called . . .
Stratilat: What is it you want, sir?
Moshkin: Called . . . who brought . . . who brought . . . [Makes signs with his hand to Shpundik and Priazhkina.]
[Stratilat goes out and returns with the letter - carrier, who wears a shako.]
Letter - Carrier: What do you wish, sir?
Moshkin: You, my dear . . . you brought this letter . . . from Mr. Vilitski?
Lettfr - Carrier: No, sir. It came through the mail. We forbidden to carry private letters.
Moshkin: Oh, yes, exactly. I forgot. I thought . . . [He loses himself completely.]
Shpundik [to Moshkin]: Calm yourself. Stratilat! Pay the carrier. [Stratilat and the letter - carrier go out.] Misha! Come to yourself.
Moshkin [stopping suddenly]: Everything is over, my friends, everything. I am lost, Filipp. We are all lost. Everything is over.
Shpundik: What’s the matter?
Moshkin [unfolding the letter]: Here, listen! You, too, Ekaterina Savishna. He refuses, my friends, he refuses absolutely. There will be no wedding and everything, everything has gone to the dogs. Positively everything. Here is what he writes to me [Shpundik and Priazhkina take places on either side of him]: “My dear Mikhail Ivanych: After a long and continued struggle, I feel that I must offer you an explanation, a frank — [He looks at Shpundik] — a frank explanation. Believe me, this conclusion has cost me a great deal. The Lord knows, I never could have foreseen it, and I wish I didn’t have to cause you such unpleasantness. The least delay would be unpardonable now. I have hesitated too long, as it is. I do not consider myself capable of bringing happiness to Maria Vasilevna, and I pray her to release me from my promise” — ”Release me from my promise.” — [To Shpundik.] Here, look. That’s the way it is written. “I do not consider myself” — see — ”to release me from my promise.” See. [Shpundik looks at the letter. Moshkin con* tinues.] “I dare not even ask her forgiveness, for I feel how deeply guilty I am before her and before you and I hasten to add that I do not know of a young lady more worthy of respect.” ... Do you hear, do you hear? — ”Worthy of respect.” — Do you hear? “Seeing the necessity of severing our relations for some time, I part from you with a broken heart.” ... Ah! Ah! “I cannot help confessing, Mikhail Ivanych, that you have the right to consider me dishonorable. — [Moshkin shakes his head.] — I am not going to try to assure you and your young lady of my devotion, of my sincere interest, for words like these, at the present time, may only tend to excite your indignation, and therefore, I avoid them.
May you both be happy “ Happy! Happy! He can say that! He . . . he [Moshkin covers his face with his hands.]
Shpundik: Calm yourself, Mikhail Ivanych. What can you do? [After a moment’s silence.] I think you haven’t finished reading?
Moshkin [taking his hands away from his face]: That’s nonsense! That can never be. He has no right. . . . Hm! Nonsense! I’ll go to him at once. . . . [Begins to pace the room quickly.’] Stratilat! Bring me my cap, my coat, right away! Call a carriage, this very minute.
Shpcndik: Where are you going, Mikhail Ivanych? Where are you going, my dear?
Moshkin: Where? To his house. I’ll show him. I — I — Oh, you fellow! If that’s the case — All right, all right. I am going to demand an answer from him, an answer.
Shpundik: How are you going to demand an answer from him?
Moshkin: How? Like this: I’ll tell him: “Dear Sir: I want your answer without any reserve. Has Maria Vasilevna insulted you in any way? Has she insulted you in any way, dear sir? Are you dissatisfied with her behavior, sir?”
Shpdndik: But he — No.
Moshkin: No! I’ll command him to answer. “Answer me, sir, answer me! Isn’t she a well - brought up lady, sir? Isn’t she a young lady with principles? Eh? Eh?” [Ee steps on Shpundik’s foot.]
Shpundik: Sure, sure, but he will.
Moshkin: “Well, how is it? For two years you have been coming to our house. You have been ‘received like one of the family; we have divided our last copper with you; we have given you this treasure, at your own request. The wedding day is set, and you — Oh! Oh! Oh! No, sir! I beg your pardon. Things can’t end this way. No, no.” Stratilat! My cap. [Stratilat enters.] “Suddenly, you changed your mind; you took up your pen and scratched, scratched, scratched, and now you imagine that you are all through with everything! Oh, no! I beg your pardon. I’ll show you, sir. I am not going to let you have the laugh on us.” And at the end, he says: “I shall pay my debts to you in full!” I don’t want a copper from him. My cap! Why don’t I get my cap? [Stratilat hands him the cap, but he continues to pace the room.] He could do that! Petrusha! Did you — [Motioning with his hand in disgust.] Why the devil do I call him “Petrusha”? Hm! He thinks that all is over, because there is no one to take Masha’ s part, and so he can have a free hand, and do whatever he likes. He thinks he can jilt her, — just like that! But he is greatly mistaken. I am not the man to be walked over. It doesn’t matter if I am an old man; I am going to challenge him to a duel.
Priazhkina [shouting]: Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!
Shpundik: What’s the matter with you, Misha
? What’s the matter with you?
Moshkin: Why, don’t you think I can shoot? I can shoot as straight as the other fellow. What’s the matter? I have asked for my cap; twenty - four times I have asked for it.
Stratilat: Here it is, I gave it to you before.
Moshkin [pulling the hat out of - his hand]: Give me my coat. [Stratilat runs to get his coat.] I’ll show him! Just give me time.
Shpundik: Misha! Wait a little. Listen to the voice of reason.
Moshkin: Go on with your voice and with your reason! You see me, — a man in despair, wild, and you talk to me about reason! Let everything go to perdition. [Putting on his coat.] If that won’t do any good, I’ll get on my knees before him, and I’ll stay there until I die, or he comes back to us. I’ll ask him to have pity on an unfortunate orphan; I’ll ask him why he is killing her. You, my friends, stay here a little. I shall return, I shall return very soon, one way or the other. Only, for Heaven’s sake, see that Masha doesn’t learn anything in my absence. I shall return soon, soon. Wait for me.
Shpundik: With pleasure, only . . .
Moshkin: Don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear anything. I’ll return, — I’ll soon return. I’ll die and return. [Runs out.~
[Shpundik and Stratilat remain in doubt. Priazhkina, sighing, sits down. Stratilat, having exchanged looks with Shpundik, goes out slowly.]
Priazhkina [sighing and heaving and folding her hands]: Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! Oh, oh, oh! What will the end of this be? My Lord, My Lord! Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! Help me, wretched orphan that I am!
Shpundik [going up to her]: Calm yourself, Ekaterina Savishna, calm yourself. With the will of God, everything may end well, somehow.
Priazhkina: Oh, Filipp Egorych! Oh, my dear sir! I am lost, I am lost. How can it come out all right? Just think, how bad it is! This is what I have come to. Oh, Lord, Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me!
Shpundik [sitting down near her]: Calm yourself, calm yourself. This way, you are only making matters worse.
Priazhkina [blowing her nose, and coming to herself a little, in a weeping voice]: Oh, Filipp Egorych! Try to put yourself in my place. You know Masha is my niece, Filipp Egorych. How can I stand this? And Mikhail Ivanych! How must I feel about him! The Lord knows what may happen to him.
Shpundik: Surely, it is all quite disagreeable.
Priazhkina [in the same tone of voice]: Oh, Filipp Egorych, it couldn’t be any worse, it couldn’t be any worse. I must say, though, I have seen it all coming. I have seen it all coming.
Shpundik: Is that so?
Priazhkina [in the same voice]: To be sure, to be sure. But they wouldn’t mind me, they wouldn’t mind me, Filipp Egorych. I have always said that this wedding would never take place. I have always said so. But they paid no attention to me.
Shpundik: Why didn’t they pay any attention to you?
Priazhkina [changing her voice]: The Lord knows why, Filipp Egorych. They must have thought that, because I am an old woman, I was talking nonsense. But I must tell you, Filipp Egorych, that, though I am a simple woman, I belong to very good people. But whafs the use of talking about it? My husband, blessed be his memory, was a staff - officer in the Department of Provisions. We always kept company with good people. We were respected by all, all our acquaintances. But our own don’t appreciate us at all. General Bondoidin’s wife used to receive us, Filipp Egorych, especially me, for whom she had a great deal of pity. I used to sit alone with her in her bedroom and she used to say to me: “I am surprised, Ekaterina Savishna, that you have such good taste.” And she knew the nicest society men. She used to tell me how nice it was to pass the time with me. She used to treat me to tea, on my word of honor. Why should I tell stories? And my own niece doesn’t want to listen to me, at all? That’s why I am crying now, — but it’s too late.
Shpundik: Well, maybe it isn’t too late.
Priazhkina: Yes, it is. Filipp Egorych. How can you say that? Surely it is too late. He will not return. It’s all over.
Shpundik: Maybe, maybe. But, Ekaterina Savishna, tell me, please — I see you are a woman of reason. Why do these young people pay no attention to us old folks? We are always looking out for their good. Why is it so? Hm?
Priazhkina: Because they are so volatile, Filipp Egorych. Bondoidina has told me about it many a time. Oh, she used to tell me how she looked upon the young people of to - day. Well, I’d simply drop my hands and that is all. I used to tell my niece: “You’ll never get married to him,” I used to tell her, “Because he is such a lively fellow and so precautious. Don’t even look at him; don’t expect anything of him.” And she used to say: “Auntie, dear, leave me alone.” Well, I told her: “As you like, my dear.” What could I do? Now she has it, — leave me alone. I had a daughter, too, Filipp Egorych. She was a beauty; we don’t see such beautiful girls nowadays, surely, we don’t see them. Her eyebrows, her nose, were simply wonderful. But her eyes, — it’s impossible to say what eyes they were! They were so piercing. They were dreamy, dreamy. Well, I married her off and I married her to a good man, an architect. Well, he used to drink quite a little, but who is free from all temptations? Well, we’ll see how Mikhail Ivanych will fix his Masha up. I am afraid she will be an old maid.
Shpundik: Is your daughter happy?
Priazhkina: Oh, Filipp Egorych! Don’t talk to me about her. She died last year, sir, and I didn’t have anything to do with her really for three years before she died.
Shpundik: Why?
Priazhkina: She was so ungrateful! She said that I had married her off to a drunkard; she said that he didn’t make a living for her and that he abused her. It’s pretty hard to satisfy the young people. What of it, if a man does drink? What man doesn’t drink? My deceased husband, with all due respect, used to get so full, that — Still, I respected him. She had no money. That was, of course, unpleasant. But poverty is no vice. And his abuses I am sure she deserved. To my old - fashioned way of thinking, a husband is the head of the family, and who can tell him what to do? A wife isn’t of any importance in the family.
Shpundik: I agree with you.
Priazhkina: But I forgive her. She is dead. Well, blessed be her memory. I am sure she must be repenting now. I am not vengeful. I don’t care. All I want, is to live my life somehow.
Shpundik: Why do you talk like that, Ekaterina Savishna? You are not so old.
Priazhkina: Oh, my dear sir, Bondoidina is the same age as I am. But she looks a whole lot older than I do. Even she was surprised at me. [Listening.] I think Masha — No, no, it was just — it wasn’t anything. I have a little noise in my ears. In fact, I always have noises in my ears before dinner, or my stomach rolls so that I can hardly catch my breath. Why is that, sir? A woman advised me to rub hempseed oil on at night. What do you think about it? She understood the art of healing, although she was an Arabian woman. She was as black as tar, but she had a very light touch.
Shpundik: Well, try it. Sometimes, you know, simple remedies help wonderfully. I heal my acquaintances. Suddenly, something will come into my head. I’ll try it and what do you think? It helps. I cured my foreman, once, of dropsy, by using tar. “Bub it in,” I said to him, and that was all. He was cured.
Priazhkina: Yes, yes, those things do happen. But it is all the will of God. His holy will in everything.
Shpundik: I imagine that you have first - class doctors here in town, — German doctors? But we, in the desert, so to say, grow dull. We can’t send after doctors; we surely live very simply.
Priazhkina: It’s best to live that way, Filipp Egorych. There is very little sense in those learned doctors. They have as little sense as Petr Ilich. But who is to blame for it? We are to blame ourselves. Take Mikhail Ivanych, for instance. Has he any right to bring up a girl in his house? He wanted to marry her off. Well, may the Lord help him, but that isn’t a man’s business. He shouldn’t have tried that, should he?
Shpundik: That wasn’t exactly the thing for him to do. That’s really a woman’s business. But the
women are not always successful at it. My neighbor, Perekhrientseva, Olimpiada, has three daughters. They were all brides, but none of them got married. The last fellow jumped out of the window in the middle of the night and ran away. The old lady, in her negligee, it was said, shouted to him from the bedroom window: “Stop! Stop! Let’s talk it over.” But he jumped away like a hare, over the snow - drifts.
Priazhkina: No one can control scenes, my dear Filipp Egorych. They will happen. Still, if they had minded me — I had a man in view. I can tell you, he was a first - class man. He was a darling — [Kisses the tips of her fingers.] Yes. [With a sigh.] It is all over now. Well, I will go and see what Masha is doing. She must be sleeping still, my dear.
I wonder what she will say, when she wakes up and finds out. [Sobs.] Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! What will become of us? I wonder why Mikhail Ivanych doesn’t return? Has something happened to him? Has he been killed, or hurt? Dear old man!
Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated) Page 373