Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated)

by Ivan Turgenev

  Shpundik: Although it is very near here, still it takes time to go there and back. Then he will stay there for a little while, for an explanation takes time.

  Priazhkina: Yes, yes, sir. That’s right. But it seems to me — Oh, I hope it will all come out for the good. He will maim him, Filipp Egorych, he will maim him!

  Shpundik: Oh, nonsense!

  Priazhkina: Well, you will see. I never make a mistake, sir. Believe me, I know. . . . You mustn’t think that, because Petr Ilich pretends to be so quiet ... He is a first - class murderer.

  Shpundik: Oh, no.

  Priazhkina: Believe me, he is. He will maim him; he’ll bleed him to death.

  Shpundik: How strangely you talk! What, are we living in a murderers’ cavern, or what? No one has a right to fight here. Don’t we have a government here? What’s the matter with you? Cross yourself.

  Priazhkina: He will simply say to him: “How dared you come and trouble me? To perdition with you and your Maria Vasilevna! What made you, old cur? . . .” And then, he will strike him.

  Shpundik: Nonsense! What’s the matter with you? How can it be; by what right? . . .

  Priazhkina: Oh, he will strike him. Oh, he will strike my dear man.

  Shpundik: Ah, Ekaterina Savishna!

  Priazhkina [beginning to cry]: He will strike him, Filipp Egorych, he will! He is a murderer.

  Shpundik: And I thought you were a sensible woman!

  Priazhkina [sobbing]: He will strike him! Surely, he will strike him.

  Shpundik [impatiently]: Well, suppose he does strike him!

  Pkiazhkina [wiping her tears]: And he won’t care; and he won’t care!

  Shpundik [looking around]: Here he is, himself. [Priazhkina turns around. Moshkin enters from the vestibule, with his hat and fur coat on. He advances to the centre of the stage slowly, with his head bent and his eyes fixed on the floor. Stratilat follows him.]

  Priazhkina and Shpundik [jumping up]: Well? Well?

  Moshkin [not looking at them]: He has gone away.

  Shpundik: He has gone away?

  Moshkin: He has gone away and left orders not to say where. That is, — not to tell me where. It wasn’t for nothing that that rascal, the janitor, laughed at me. I’ll find him out, to - day or to - morrow, I’ll find out in the department. He can’t get away from me; no, he can’t.

  Shpundik: Take your coat off, Mikhail Ivanych.

  Moshkin [throwing his cap on the floor]: Take it, take it; take whatever you want. I don’t want any of these things. [Stratilat takes his coat off for him.] What do I want it for? It is all the same to me. Pull it off, take it away. [Sits doum on the chair and covers his face with his hands.] [Stratilat picks the cap up from the floor and goes out, taking the coat with him.]

  Shpundik: Tell us, at least

  Moshkin [raising his head suddenly]: What shall I tell you? I went there and asked: “Is he home?” “No, he has gone away.” “Where?” “It is not known.” Well, what else shall I tell you? It is very plain. It’s all over. That’s all there is to it. And it wasn’t so very long ago that we were looking for a flat. . . . His was too small! Now, only one thing is left for me to do, and that is to choke myself.

  Shpundik: What are you talking about, Misha? The Lord bless you.

  Moshkin [jumping up]: Well, I’d like to see what you would do, if you were in my place. What can I do now? What else can I do? How can I look Masha straight in the face?

  Priazhkina: That’s it. My dear Mikhail Ivanych! You wouldn’t mind me.

  Moshkin: Ah, Ekaterina Savishna! You make me sick! I have no patience with you. How is Masha?

  Priazhkina [with a feeling of wounded pride]: She is sleeping.

  Moshkin: Pardon me, please. You see the condition that I am in. Moreover, you always used to be well - disposed towards Petr Ilich, — that is, — [He puts his hand on Shpundik’s shoulder.] Yes, my dear Shpundik, it’s quite a shock to me, quite a shock. It has broken my heart. [Stop.s.] Well, we must decide on something. [Having thought for a minute.] I’ll go to the department and see if I can find out his address. Yes, I’ll do that.

  Shpundik [in a convincing voice]: My dear Mikhail Ivanych! Let me express to you my feelings. Let me do it, Misha. You know, sometimes, advice — Let me speak.

  Moshkin: Well, speak. What is it?

  Shpundik: Listen to me, Misha. Don’t go, don’t go.

  Drop it. You will only make it worse. He has backed out. . . . Well, there is nothing to be done about it. There is simply no way of mending it. Believe me. Ekaterina Savishna will tell you the same thing. You will only make a fool of yourself, and that is all.

  Moshkin: It’s easy for you to say so.

  Shpundik: No, don’t say that. I feel it, Misha, just as much. But common sense — that’s what it is. One must think what good it will do. That’s what we ought to give our attention to, for somebody might suffer by it. You might, and Maria Vasilevna, too. [To Priazhkina.] Isn’t that right? [Priazhkina nods assent.] There, you see, she agrees. Drop it. There are other fellows in the world besides him, and Maria Vasilevna is a good sensible girl.

  Moshkin: Oh, you are talking and talking and my head is swimming, as if some one had hit it. There are plenty of fellows, that’s true enough, but the matter was all settled, and the wedding was at hand. This is a matter of honor. You must understand that. And then, would Masha want to marry another fellow? It is easy for you to talk, but I feel differently about it. She is my charge; she is an orphan; I am responsible to the Lord for her welfare.

  Shpundik: But you can’t fix the matter. He has refused; you will only go on tormenting yourself.

  Moshkin: I’d try to frighten him.

  Shpundik: Oh, Mikhail Ivanych, frightening people isn’t for you and me. Believe me, drop it. Forget it.

  Moshkin: You think it is easy, eh? If you had done this for two years, every day — But what’s the use of talking about it? I’ll choke myself and that is all.

  Shpundik: Why do you say that? You ought to be ashamed, a man of your age

  Moshkin: Of my age!

  Shpundik: Now, that’s enough, my boy, that’s enough. That won’t do any good. Better come to yourself and drop it.

  Priazhkina: Drop it, my dear Mikhail Ivanych.

  Shpundik: Beally, drop it. Take the advice of an old friend, and drop it.

  Priazhkina: Drop it, Mikhail Ivanych.

  Moshkin [beginning to pace the room again]: No, no. That isn’t it. You are not advising me truly. I must have a talk with Masha. I must explain to her ... let her decide. [Stops pacing.] It is her affair, after all. I’ll go and say to her: “Maria Vasilevna! I am guilty before you. I am the one who got the thing up, thoughtlessly, like an old fool. Punish me as you see fit. And if you do not like any other man, I will bring him back to you, dead or alive. That’s all there is to it. And now, Maria Vasilevna, please decide for yourself.” . . . [IFaZfcs the room.]

  Shpundik: Well, my dear fellow, I can’t approve of that, either. That, my boy, isn’t a girl’s business. Isn’t that true, Ekaterina Savishna?

  Priazhkina: It is true, my angel. It is true, Filipp Egorych.

  Shpundik: Well, you see. You are not going at it in the right way, my boy. You had better listen to the voice of reason. Moreover, things may come out all right, anyway. You had better recollect this stanza:

  “Darling, though it is terrible A friend of the heart to lose; Yet, your sorrow is in vain, You, other ways, must choose.”

  Moshkin [continuing to pace the room, and talking to himself]: Yes, yes. That’s a good thought. That’s all right. Whatever she says, that it will be. Yes, yes.

  Shpundik: For . . . [He stops and looks at Priazhkina] . . . for, I repeat, this isn’t a girl’s business. She won’t even understand you. How can she? The Lord knows what you are contriving! You will simply make her cry, and what will you do then?

  Priazhkina [so65in^]: Oh, Filipp Egorych! Don’t talk like that. Have a little mercy upon me. Oh, have mercy upon an ol
d woman, my dear.

  Moshkin [not hearing her]: Yes, yes, that’s decided upon. That’s settled. [To Shpundik amd Priazhkina] Well, friends, I thank you very much for having waited for me. And now, please leave me to myself for half an hour. The weather, you see, is very fine. Take a little walk, my friends.

  Shpundik: Why?

  Moshkin [hastily]: Yes, yes. Good - bye, good - bye. Just for half an hour; just for half an hour.

  Shpundik: Where are you driving us?

  Moshkin: Go wherever you like. [To Shpundik.] Take her to Milutin’s store. You’ll see very large pineapples there. By the way, you will also see quite a few monuments on your way there. [He starts to push them out gently.]

  Shpundik: I have seen all those, already.

  Moshkin: Well, then look at them again, once more. You go, too, Ekaterina Savishna.

  Priazhkina: Tea is ready, Mikhail Ivanych. The samovar is boiling.

  Moshkin: Oh, that’s nothing. That will keep. Goodbye.

  Shpundik: But — why? . . .

  Moshkin: Filipp, for God’s sake! Here’s your cap.

  Shpundik: Well, as you like. So, in half an hour . . .

  Moshkin: Yes, yes, in half an hour. Here is your hat, Ekaterina Savishna. Your coat must be in the vestibule. Good - bye, good - bye. [He sees them out and returns to the front of the stage, where he stops.] Now comes the decisive moment. I have pushed them out and now I must act. But what shall I tell her? I’ll tell her, — ”Well, that’s the way. That’s the case. What shall we do now, my dear?” I’ll prepare her as I ought to, and then. — Well, then I’ll give her the letter. Then, I will add, so to say, that — it can still be fixed up; that we needn’t lose courage. [After a moment’s silence.] I’ll have to be pretty careful, very careful. I’ll have to be quite diplomatic. Well, I must go in to see her. [Goes up to the door.] I am afraid. Upon my word, I am afraid. My heart is in my mouth. I am sure I don’t look like myself, either. [Goes up to the looking - glass, quickly.] H - m! That’s the kind of a face I have; that’s the kind of a face I have on me. [He fixes his hair with the brush.] You’re a great fellow, I must say. Handsome man! However, I mustn’t delay it. Pfui! Pfui! [He passes his hand over his face.] What a peculiar situation! I am sure I wouldn’t feel so badly, if I were getting ready for a shooting affair. Well, to the devil with it. [Buttons his coat.] The main thing is the beginning. [Goes up to the door.] She is asleep? Impossible. We have made so much noise here. Suppose she has overheard us? Well, so much the better. Surely, so much the better. Well, coward, go on. No, wait a little. I’ll have a drink of cold water. [He turns to the table and takes a glass of water. Masiia enters from the bedroom.] Well, now with the help of God! . . . [Turns around and sees Masha. He loses control of himself.]

  Oh. ... Is that you? . . . that — that . . . how is it that you . . .?

  Masha [hesitatingly]: It is I. What’s the matter with you?

  Moshkin [quickly]: Nothing, nothing. Just so. ... I didn’t expect you. I was told that you were asleep.

  Masha: Yes, I have been asleep the whole time. I got up just now.

  Moshkin: And how do you feel?

  Masha: Pretty well. My head aches a little.

  Moshkin: That’s isn’t surprising after such a night as you passed. [Masha sits down.] So you are feeling better? Well, thank God for that. Fine day, to - day. We may take a sleigh - ride later. What do you think?

  Masha: Just as you say.

  Moshkin: Oh, no. Just as you like. Have I ever forced you to do anything? Whatever pleases you, will be done.

  Masha: You are so kind, Mikhail Ivanych!

  Moshkin [sitting down near her]: What else will you say? Well, I am anything but — however, it doesn’t make any difference. Just look at me! [She looks at him.] Oh, Masha, Masha, you have been crying again! [Masha turns her head away.] I understand, Masha, I understand. You are . . . Surely, you are doing it all to no purpose. Truly, he may yet . . . you know. [He makes uncertain mover - ments with his hand.] You’ll see. . . .

  Masha: I am all right, Mikhail Ivanych.

  Moshkin: What do you mean by all right? You are not all right. You are not all right. You are crying! And why? What’s the reason? Surely, I don’t deny it. . . . Yet. . . . That is, it’s understood. . . . However, we’ll see. [He wipes his face with his handkerchief.] Why did that fool Stratilat make the house so hot?

  Masha: You are troubling yourself without cause, Mikhail Ivanych, truly, without cause.

  Moshkin: Who told you. . . .

  Masha: At least, as far as I am concerned. Believe me — [bitterly] — I am completely resigned to my fate.

  Moshkin: To what do you mean you have resigned yourself?

  Masha: I don’t expect anything, any more, Mikhail Ivanych. I am not wishing for anything. I don’t want to deceive myself any longer. I know that everything is over, and very likely, for the best.

  Moshkin: But no. Why? . . .

  Masha: Look at me now.

  Moshkin: Is there? . . . [Wants to look at her but can’t.’]

  Masha: Oh, Mikhail Ivanych! What’s the use of pretending? What good can it do? Whom will we deceive?

  Moshkin [after a moment’s silence]: Well, yes. . . . I’m satisfied . . . that all is over. Surely, I couldn’t have expected such behavior. . . .

  Masha [suddenly, with much agitation]: What do you mean to say by that?

  Moshkin [confused]: I — I — that is . . . I . . .

  Masha: Have you seen him to - day?

  Moshkin: I — yes ... I ... I have been there.

  Masha [quickly]: Well?

  Moshkin: I didn’t find him home.

  Masha: Then why did you say that you couldn’t — that you didn’t expect him?

  Moshkin: He — surely . . . However, you yourself . . . He ... he wrote a letter to me.

  Masha [quickly]: A letter?

  Moshkin [forcing a smile]: Yes, a letter. Well . . . you know . . . Well, it’s not possible to say that . . .

  Masha: Where is it?

  Moshkin: I have it.

  Masha: For Heaven’s sake, give me the letter. Mikhail Ivanych! For Heaven’s sake, give me the letter.

  Moshkin: Really, I don’t know, Masha ... By right, I shouldn’t have said anything about it. I — I forgot myself a little.

  Masha: Give it to me! Give it to me! Give it to me!

  Moshkin [looking in his pocket]: Really, I don’t know where I put it. Really, Masha, it is in vain that . . . You are so upset now.

  Masha: I am very calm. But the letter . . .

  Moshkin [in despair]: But I can’t . . . Oh, Lord, Oh, Lord! I must prepare you first. I, — that is, I intended . . . Otherwise, you might imagine . . . And, . . . Oh, why did I do that, without any preparation whatever

  Masha: You are only tormenting me . . .

  Moshkin: Promise me, at least . . .

  Masha: I’ll promise you anything you want, only, for Heaven’s sake . . .

  Moshkin: Masha! Please don’t think ... it isn’t anything. You know, it was written on the spur of the moment. It isn’t anything yet. It can be easily mended, very easily mended. That is, — it won’t take any effort at all.

  Masha: But for Heaven’s sake, give it to me.

  Moshkin [taking the letter slowly from his side pocket]: Only please . . . [Masha takes the letter away from him and begins to read it eagerly. Moshkin gets up, goes a little to one side and turns away. Masha finishes reading, remains immovable for a minute; then begins to sob slowly and covers her face with her hands. Moshkin runs up to her.] Masha, Masha! For Heaven’s sake! I told you that it wasn’t anything. Masha! Masha! For the Lord’s sake, Masha! [To himself.’] Oh, you brainless, old fool! And you talked to yourself about being careful and using diplomacy! You ignoramus! Where do you come in on diplomacy? You took the letter out and gave it to her. [Turning to Masha again.] My dear! Calm yourself. Don’t cry. I promise you that I’ll bring everything in order again. Masha! You love me, and I can’t bear to see y
ou crying. [She reaches her hand to him.] Please, don’t cry.

  Masha [tearfully]: Pardon me, Mikhail Ivanych. It will soon pass. It is only the first minute . . . [Wipes her eyes with her handkerchief.]

  Moshkin [sits down near her again and takes the letter away from her]: It’s nothing, Masha. That doesn’t amount to anything.

  Masiia: If I hadn’t expected it — but you know, I was ready for anything. Surely, this letter, after all the promises . . . But, I didn’t deceive myself before ... I wish him all good luck. . . . [She cries.]