ANNENKOV: At the eleventh hour, I’ve had to come to a decision, by myself. It was too late to talk it over with you. I shall take Voinov’s place.
STEPAN: No. I have first claim to it.
KALIAYEV [to ANNENKOV]: You are our leader. Your duty is to stay here.
ANNENKOV: Sometimes a leader’s duty is to act the coward. But on condition that he proves his courage when the need arises. I’ve made my decision. You, Stepan, will replace me for as long as is needed. Now, you must hear the program I’ve fixed up for each of you. Come!
[They go out. KALIAYEV sits down. DORA goes up to him, stretches out her hand; then thinks better of it.]
DORA: It’s not your fault.
KALIAYEV: I’ve hurt him, hurt him cruelly. Do you know what he said to me the other day?
DORA: He was always saying how happy he was.
KALIAYEV: Yes. But he told me there was no happiness for him outside our comradeship. This is what he said: “We—the organization—stand for all that matters in the world today. It’s like an order of chivalry come back to earth.” Oh, Dora, what a shame this has happened!
DORA: He’ll come back.
KALIAYEV: No. I can picture how I’d feel if I were in his position. I’d be heartbroken.
DORA: And now? Aren’t you heartbroken?
KALIAYEV: Now? But I’m with you all, and I am happy—as he was happy.
DORA [musingly]: Yes, it’s a great happiness.
KALIAYEV: None greater. Don’t you feel as I do?
DORA: Yes … But why then are you so depressed? Two days ago you looked so cheerful. Like a schoolboy going on vacation. But today …
KALIAYEV: [rising to his feet; with a rush of bitterness]: Today I know something I did not know then. You were right, Dora; it’s not so simple as it seems. I thought it was quite easy to kill, provided one has courage and is buoyed up by an ideal. But now I’ve lost my wings. I have realized that hatred brings no happiness. I can see the vileness in myself, and in the others, too. Murderous instincts, cowardice, injustice. I’ve got to kill—there are no two ways about it. But I shall see it through to the end. I shall go beyond hatred.
DORA: Beyond? There’s nothing beyond.
KALIAYEV: Yes. There is love.
DORA: Love? No, that’s not what is needed.
KALIAYEV: Oh, Dora, how can you say that? You of all people, you whose heart I know so well!
DORA: Too much blood, too much brutal violence—there’s no escape for us. Those whose hearts are set on justice have no right to love. They’re on their toes, as I am, holding their heads up, their eyes fixed on the heights. What room for love is there in such proud hearts? Love bows heads, gently, compassionately. We, Yanek, are stiff-necked.
KALIAYEV: But we love our fellow men.
DORA: Yes, we love them—in our fashion. With a vast love that has nothing to shore it up; that brings only sadness. The masses? We live so far away from them, shut up in our thoughts. And do they love us? Do they even guess we love them? No, they hold their peace. Ah, that silence, that unresponsive silence!
KALIAYEV: But surely that’s precisely what love means—sacrificing everything without expecting anything in return?
DORA: Perhaps. Yes, I know that love, an absolute, ideal love, a pure and solitary joy—and I feel it burning in my heart. Yet there are times when I wonder if love isn’t something else; something more than a lonely voice, a monologue, and if there isn’t sometimes a response. And then I see a picture floating up before my eyes. The sun is shining, pride dies from the heart, one bows one’s head gently, almost shyly, and every barrier is down! Oh, Yanek, if only we could forget, even for an hour, the ugliness and misery of this world we live in, and let ourselves go—at last! One little hour or so of thinking of ourselves, just you and me, for a change. Can you see what I mean?
KALIAYEV: Yes, Dora, I can; it’s what is called love—in the simple, human sense.
DORA: Yes, darling, you’ve guessed what I mean—but does that kind of love mean anything to you, really? Do you love justice with that kind of love? [KALIAYEV is silent.] Do you love our Russian people with that love—all tenderness and gentleness and self-forgetting? [KALIAYEV still says nothing.] You see. [She goes toward him. Her voice is very low.] And how about me, Yanek? Do you love me—as a lover?
KALIAYEV [after gazing at her in silence for some moments]: No one will ever love you as I love you.
DORA: I know. But wouldn’t it be better to love—like an ordinary person?
KALIAYEV: I’m not an ordinary person. Such as I am, I love you.
DORA: Do you love me more than justice, more than the organization?
KALIAYEV: For me, you, justice, the organization are inseparable. I don’t distinguish between you.
DORA: Yes. But do, please, answer me. Do you love me all for yourself … selfishly … possessively?—oh, you know what I mean! Would you love me if I were unjust?
KALIAYEV: If you were unjust and I could love you, it wouldn’t be you I loved.
DORA: That’s no answer. Tell me only this; would you love me if I didn’t belong to the organization?
KALIAYEV: Then what would you belong to?
DORA: I remember the time when I was a student. I was pretty then. I used to spend hours walking about the town, dreaming all sorts of silly daydreams. I was always laughing. Would you love me if I were like that now—carefree, gay, like a young girl?
KALIAYEV [hesitantly, in a very low voice]: I’m longing, oh, how I’m longing to say Yes.
DORA [eagerly]: Then say Yes, darling—if you mean it, if it’s true. In spite of everything: of justice, of our suffering fellow men, of human bondage. Do try to forget for a moment all those horrors—the scaffold, the agony of little children, of men who are flogged to death.
KALIAYEV: Dora! Please!
DORA: No, surely for once we can let our hearts take charge. I’m waiting for you to say the word, to tell me you want me—Dora, the living woman—and I mean more to you than this world, this foully unjust world around us.
KALIAYEV [brutally]: Keep quiet! My heart yearns for you, and you alone.… But, a few minutes hence I’ll need a clear head and a steady hand.
DORA [wildly]: A few minutes hence? Ah, yes, I was forgetting. [Laughing and sobbing at once] No, darling, I’ll do as you want. Don’t be angry with me—I was talking nonsense. I promise to be sensible. I’m overtired, that’s all. I, too, I couldn’t have said—what I wanted you to say. I love you with the same love as yours: a love that’s half frozen, because it’s rooted in justice and reared in prison cells.… Summer, Yanek, can you remember what that’s like, a real summer’s day? But—no, it’s never-ending winter here. We don’t belong to the world of men. We are the just ones. And outside there is warmth and light; but not for us, never for us! [Averting her eyes.] Ah, pity on the just!
KALIAYEV [gazing at her with despair in his eyes]: Yes, that’s our lot on earth; love is … impossible. But I shall kill the Grand Duke, and then at last there will be peace for you and me.
DORA: Peace? When shall we find peace?
KALIAYEV [violently]: The next day.
[ANNENKOV and STEPAN enter. DORA and KALIAYEV move away from each other.]
ANNENKOV: Yanek!
KALIAYEV: I’m ready. [Draws a deep breath.] At last! At last!
STEPAN [going up to him]: Brother, I’m with you.
KALIAYEV: Good-by, Stepan. [Turning to DORA] Good-by, Dora.
[DORA comes toward him. They are standing very close, but neither touches the other.]
DORA: No, not good-by. Au revoir. Au revoir, mon chéri. We shall meet again.
[They gaze at each other in silence for some moments.]
KALIAYEV: Au revoir, Dora. I … I … Russia will be free.
DORA [weeping]: Russia will be free.
[KALIAYEV crosses himself as he passes the icon; then walks out of the room with ANNENKOV. STEPAN goes to the window. DORA remains statue-still, staring at the door.]
STEPAN: How straight he’s walking! Yes, I was wrong not to feel confidence in Yanek. But his enthusiasm was too … too romantic for my liking. Did you notice how he crossed himself just now? Is he religious?
DORA: Well, he’s not a churchgoer.
STEPAN: Still, he has leanings toward religion. That’s why we didn’t hit it off. I’m more bitter than he. For people like me, who don’t believe in a God, there is no alternative between total justice and utter despair.
DORA: To Yanek’s mind there’s an element of despair in justice itself.
STEPAN: Yes, he has a weak soul. But happily he’s better than his soul, his arm won’t falter. Yanek will kill the Grand Duke, I’d swear to it. And it will be a good day’s work, a very good day’s work. Destruction, that’s what’s wanted. But you’re not saying anything. [Scans her face attentively.] Are you in love with him?
DORA: Love calls for time, and we have hardly time enough for—justice.
STEPAN: You are right. There’s so much still to do; we must smash this world we live in, blast it to smithereens! And after that … [Looks down into the street.] They’re out of sight. They must have reached their posts by now.
DORA: Yes? “After that,” you said. What will happen after that?
STEPAN: After that we shall love each other.
DORA: If we are still alive.
STEPAN: Then others will love each other. Which comes to the same thing.
DORA:
