STEPAN: Oh, I can’t admit this. No, no, my good friend, immortal genius shines over all mankind. Let everyone go barefoot and long live Shakespeare. …
SHIGALOV: You don’t any of you draw the conclusions. (He leaves.)
LIPUTIN: Allow me—
STEPAN: No, no, I cannot accept that. Nous qui aimons le peuple—
SHATOV: YOU don’t love the masses. VIRGINSKY: What? I—
SHATOV (rising in anger): You don’t love either Russia or the masses. You have lost contact with the masses. You talk about them as if they were a distant tribe with exotic customs that move you to pity. You have lost track of them, and without the masses, there is no god. This is why all of you and all of us, yes, all of us, are so wretchedly cold and indifferent. We are merely out of step, nothing else. You yourself, Stepan Trofimovich, I make no exception for you, let it be known, although you taught us all. In fact, I am speaking especially to you. (He seizes his cap and rushes toward the door. But STEPAN TROFIMOVICH calls out to stop him.)
STEPAN: All right, Shatov, since you insist, I am angry with you. Now let us make it up. (He holds out his hand, and SHATOV reluctantly shakes it.) Let’s drink to universal reconciliation! GAGANOV: Let’s drink. But I won’t let anyone lead me around by the nose.
(Toast, VARVARA STAVROGIN enters.)
VARVARA: Please don’t get up. Drink to the health of my son, Nicholas, who has just arrived. He has gone up to change, and I have asked him to come and say hello to your friends.
STEPAN: How did he seem to you, ma noble amie? VARVARA: His appearance and good health delighted me. (She looks at them.) Yes, why not say so? There have been so many rumors recently that I am glad to have a chance to show what my son is.
GAGANOV: We are delighted to see him, my dear! VARVARA (looking at SHATOV) : And you, Shatov, are you happy to see your friend again? (SHATOV gets up and, as he does so, awkwardly knocks over a small intarsia table.) Pick up that table, please. It will be chipped, but there’s no use crying over that. (To the others) What were you talking about?
STEPAN: Of hope, ma noble amie, and of the luminous future already visible at the end of our dark way . . . Oh, we shall be consoled for such sufferings and persecutions. Exile will come to an end, for dawn is already in sight. . . .
(NICHOLAS STAVROGIN appears upstage and stands still on the threshold.)
STEPAN: Ah, mon cher enfant!
(VARVARA makes a move toward STAVROGIN, but his unemotional manner stops her. She looks at him with anguish. A few seconds of general embarrassment.)
GAGANOV: How are you, my dear Nicholas? STAVROGIN: I am well, thank you.
(A merry scene of greeting ensues, STAVROGIN steps toward his mother and kisses her hand. STEPAN TROFIMOVICH goes up to him and embraces him. STAVROGIN smiles at STEPAN and resumes his unemotional manner while the others, except SHATOV, greet him. But his prolonged silence dampens the enthusiasm.)
VARVARA (looking at NICHOLAS) : Dear, dear child, you are sad, you are bored. That is right.
STEPAN (bringing him a glass): My good Nicholas!
VARVARA: GO on, I beg you. We were talking of the dawn, I believe.
(STAVROGIN lifts his glass as a toast in the direction of SHATOV, who leaves the room without saying a word, STAVROGIN sniffs the contents of his glass and sets it down on the table without drinking it.)
LIPUTIN (after a moment of general embarrassment) : Good. Did you know that the new governor had already arrived?
(In his corner on the left, VIRGINSKY says something to GAGANOV, who answers:)
GAGANOV: I won’t let anyone lead me around by the nose.
LIPUTIN: It seems that he wants to upset everything. But it would surprise me if he did.
STEPAN: It won’t last. Just a touch of administrative intoxication!
(STAVROGIN has gone over to the spot vacated by SHATOV. Standing very upright with a faraway, gloomy look on his face, he is watching GAGANOV.)
VARVARA: What do you mean now?
STEPAN: Why, you know the symptoms, don’t you? For instance, just entrust any old nitwit with selling tickets behind the window of the most insignificant station and immediately, when you go to get a ticket, that nitwit will look at you as if he were Jupiter, just to show his power. The nitwit is drunk, you see. He is suffering from administrative intoxication.
VARVARA: Come to the point, I beg you.
STEPAN: I simply meant . . . However that may be, I know the new governor somewhat. A very handsome man, isn’t he—about forty years old? VARVARA: Where did you get the idea that he is a handsome man? He has pop eyes.
STEPAN: That’s true, but . . . Well, in any case, I accept the opinion of the ladies.
GAGANOV: We can’t criticize the new governor before seeing him at work, can we?
LIPUTIN: And why shouldn’t we criticize him? He’s the governor; isn’t that enough? GAGANOV: Allow me—
VIRGINSKY: It’s through reasoning like Gaganov’s that Russia is sinking into ignorance. If a horse were named governor, Gaganov would wait to see him at work.
GAGANOV: Oh! But, allow rne, you are insulting me, and I won’t permit it. I said … or, rather … I repeat: I won’t let anyone lead me around by the nose. . . . (STAVROGIN crosses the stage amid the silence that sets in ‘with his first step, advances like a sleepwalker toward GAGANOV, slowly raises his arm, seizes GAGANOV’.? nose, and, gently pulling it, makes GAGANOV step toward the center of the stage. With anguish in her voice, VARVARA STAVROGIN shoUtSl «Nicholas!» NICHOLAS lets go of GAGANOV, steps backward a few steps, and looks at him, smiling absentmindedly. After a second of stupor, general tumult. The others surround GAGANOV and lead him to a chair, into which he sinks. NICHOLAS STAVROGIN turns on his heels and leaves the room, VARVARA STAVROGIN, hardly knowing what she is doing, takes up a glass and carries it over to GAGANOV.) He . . . How could he … ? Help, help!
VARVARA (to STEPAN TROFIMOVICH ): Oh, my God, lie’s mad, he’s mad!
STEPAN (hardly knowing what he is doing either): No, tres chere, mere thoughtlessness, youth . . . VARVARA (to GAGANOV): Forgive Nicholas, my friend, I beg of you.
(STAVROGIN enters. After a brief hesitation he walks firmly toward GAGANOV, who gets up, frightened. Then rapidly and with a frown:) STAVROGIN: Of course you will forgive me! A sudden whim … A stupid distraction . . .
STEPAN (stepping up to the other side of STAVROGIN, who is looking vacantly ahead of him): That’s not an acceptable apology, Nicholas. (With anguish) Je vous en prie, mon enfant. You have a noble heart, you are well brought up and cultured, and suddenly you seem to us enigmatic— a dangerous person. At least have pity on your mother.
STAVROGIN (looking at his mother, then at GAGANOV) : All right. I shall apologize. But I shall do so secretly to Mr. Gaganov, who will understand me.
(GAGANOV steps forward hesitantly, STAVROGIN leans over and seizes GAGANOV’J ear in his teeth.) GAGANOV (in pain): Nicholas! Nicholas!
(The others, who haven’t yet understood the situation, look at him.)
GAGANOV (in terror): Nicholas, you are biting my ear! (Screaming) He’s biting my ear! (STAVROGIN lets go of him and stands staring at him with a dull look on his face, GAGANOV rushes out, screaming with fright.) Watch out! Watch out! VARVARA (going to her son). Nicholas, for the love of God!
(NICHOLAS looks at her, laughs weakly, then collapses on the floor in a sort of fit.)
BLACKOUT
THE NARRATOR: Gaganov stayed in bed several weeks. Nicholas Stavrogin likewise. But he eventually got up, made his apologies most honorably, and set out for a rather long trip. The only place where he stayed for a time was Geneva—not because of the hectic charm of that city, but because there he found the Drozdov ladies.
SCENE 2
Varvara St aw o gin’s drawing room, VARVARA STAVROGIN and PRASCOVYA DROZDOV are on the stage. PRASCOVYA: Oh, my dear, I can say that I am pleased to return Dasha Shatov to you. I have no criticism to make, for my part, but it seems to me that if she hadn’t been there, there would not have been that little misunderstanding between your Nicholas and my Lisa. I assure you that I know nothing, for Lisa is much too proud, too obstinate, to have spoken to me. But the fact is that they are on the outs, that Lisa was humiliated, God alone knows why, and that perhaps your Dasha would have something to say about it, although . . .
VARVARA: I don’t like insinuations, Prascovya. Tell all you have to tell. Are you trying to imply that Dasha had an intrigue with Nicholas?
PRASCOVYA: An intrigue, dear—what a word! Besides, I don’t want to imply … I love you too much . . . How can you imagine . . . ? (She dries a tear.)
VARVARA: Don’t weep. I’m not hurt. Just tell me what took place.
PRASCOVYA: Why, nothing at all. He is in love with Lisa, that’s certain. I couldn’t be mistaken on that point. Feminine intuition! . . . But you know Lisa’s character. I suppose one might sayobstinate and scornful—yes, that’s it! And Nicholas is proud. What pride—oh, he is indeed your son! Well, he couldn’t put up with her little jokes. And, in return,
