MARIA: Oh, no, it was only a dream! My Prince will not come. I shall remain alone. Oh, my dear friend, why don’t you ever question me about anything?
SHATOV: Because I know that you will never tell me anything.
MARIA: No, oh, no, I won’t tell anything! They
can kill me, they can burn me alive, but I won’t tell anything. They’ll never know anything! SHATOV: See!
MARIA: Yet if you who are so kindhearted asked me, then perhaps . . . Why don’t you ask me?
Ask me, ask properly, Shatoushka, and I shall tell you. Beg me to talk, Shatoushka. And I shall talk, I shall talk. . . .
(SHATOV says nothing and MARIA TIMOFEYEVNA faces him with her face bathed in tears. Then a fracas and oaths are heard at the door.) SHATOV. Here is your brother. Go back to your room or he will beat you again.
MARIA (bursting out laughing): Oh, it’s my lackey? Well, what does it matter? We’ll send him to the kitchen. (But SHATOV draws her toward the door upstage.) Don’t worry, Shatoushka, don’t worry. If my Prince comes back, he will defend me.
(LEBYATKIN comes in and slams the door, MARIA TIMOFEYEVNA remains upstage with a frozen smile of scorn on her face.)
LEBYATKIN (singing drunkenly): I have come to tell you That the sun is up, That the woods are swooning Under his ardent kisses.
Who goes there? Friend or foe? (To MARIA TIMOFEYEVNA) You, get back in your room! SHATOV: Leave your sister alone.
LEBYATKIN (bowing to GRIGORIEV): Retired Captain Ignatius Lebyatkin, in the service of the whole world and of his friends, just so they are faithful friends! Oh, the swine! And, first of all, I want you all to know that I am in love with Lisa Drozdov. She is a star and a horsewoman. In short, a star on horseback. And lama man of honor.
SHATOV: Who sells his sister.
LEBYATKIN (shouting): What? The same old calumny! Do you know that I could shame you with a single word?
SHATOV: Say the word.
LEBYATKIN: You think I wouldn’t dare. SHATOV: YOU may be a captain, but you are a coward. And you would be afraid of your master.
LEBYATKIN: He is provoking me, and you are a witness to it, sir! Well, do you know whose wife this woman is?
(GRIGORIEV steps forward.)
SHATOV: Whose? You won’t dare say. LEBYATKIN: She is . . . She is . . .
(MARIA TTMOFEYEVNA steps forward, her mouth open and speechless.)
BLACKOUT
THE NARRATOR: Whose wife was that wretched cripple? Was it true that Dasha had been dishonored, and by whom? And who had seduced Shatov’s wife? Well, we shall be told! Indeed, just as the climate of our little city had become so tense, a newcomer came with a flaming torch which blew up everything and stripped everyone naked. And, take my word for it, seeing one’s fellow citizens naked is generally a painful experience. So the son of the humanist, the off spring of the liberal Stepan Trofimovich, Peter Verkhovensky, to call hirn by name, popped up at the moment when he was least expected.
SCENE 4
At Varvara Stavrogift’s, GRIGORIEV and STEPAN TRO~ FIMOVICH.
STEPAN: Ah, my friend, everything is about to be decided. If Dasha accepts, I shall be a married man next Sunday, and that’s not funny. [But since my very dear Varvara Stavrogin asked me to come today and settle everything, I shall obey her. Didn’t I behave badly toward her? GRIGORIEV: NO, not at all. You were simply taken by surprise.
STEPAN: Yes, I did. When I think of that generous and compassionate woman, so indulgent to all my petty foibles! I am a spoiled child with all the selfishness of a child and none of the innocence. She has been taking care of me for twenty years. And I, at the very moment when she is receiving these dreadful anonymous letters . . .
GRIGORIEV: Anonymous letters?
STEPAN: Yes, just imagine: she is told that Nicholas has given his property to Lebyatkin. That Nicholas is a monster. Poor Lisa! But you are in love with her, I know.
GRIGORIEV: How dare you?
STEPAN: All right, all right, forget it. Maurice Nicolaevich is in love with her too, don’t forget. Poor man, I shouldn’t want to be in his place.
But, then, mine isn’t much easier.] In any case, however ashamed of myself I am, I wrote to Dasha.
GRIGORIEV: Good Lord! What did you tell her? STEPAN: Well … I wrote to Nicholas too. GRIGORIEV: Are you crazy?
STEPAN: But my intention was noble. After all, just imagine that something really took place in Switzerland, or that there was a beginning, a little beginning, or even a very little beginning of something. I had to question their hearts first of all. I wanted them to know that I knew, so that they would feel freer. I acted through noble motives.
GRIGORIEV: But it was utterly stupid!
STEPAN: Yes, yes, it was foolish. But how else could I behave? Everything is open and aboveboard now. I wrote to my son too. And yet I don’t care! I’ll marry Dasha even if I am just covering up the sins of others.
GRIGORIEV: Don’t say that.
STEPAN: Oh, if only next Sunday would never come! It would be easy for God to perform a miracle and to cross one Sunday off the calendar. If only to prove his power to the atheists once and for all! Flow I love her! How I’ve loved her for twenty years! Can she really think for a minute that I am getting married because of fear, or poverty? I am doing it for her alone. GRIGORIEV: Of whom are you talking?
STEPAN: Why, of Varvara, of course. She is the only woman I have adored for the last twenty years, (ALEXEY YEGOROVICH comes in, escorting SHATOV.) Ah, here is our quicktempered friend.
You have come to see your sister, I suppose. . . . SHATOV: NO. I have been summoned by Varvara Stavrogin for a matter in which I am involved. That is the way, I believe, that the police word it when they issue a summons.
STEPAN: No, she meant just what she said, although I don’t know what the business is, nor whether you are involved. In any case, our very dear Varvara is at Mass. As for Dasha, she is in her room. Do you want me to send for her? SHATOV: NO.
STEPAN: All right. That is probably better, after all. The later, the better. You probably know Varvara’s plans for her?
SHATOV: Yes.
STEPAN: Good, good! In that case, let’s say no more about it, let’s say no more about it. Of course, I can imagine that you were surprised. I was myself. So suddenly . . .
SHATOV: Shut up.
STEPAN: All right. Be polite, my dear Shatov, at least today. Yes, be patient with me. My heart is heavy.
(VARVARA STAVROGIN and PRASCOVYA DROZDOV enter, escorted by MAURICE NICHOLAEVICH.) PRASCOVYA: What a scandal! And Lisa mixed up in all that!
VARVARA (ringing for a servant): Be quiet! What do you call a scandal? That poor girl has lost her reason. Be a little charitable, my dear Prascovya! STEPAN: What? What happened?
VARVARA: Nothing. A poor crippled girl threw herself at my feet as we were leaving Mass and kissed my hand, (ALEXEY YEGOROVICH comes in.) Coffee . . . and don’t unharness the horses.
PRASCOVYA: In front of everybody, and they all crowded around!
VARVARA: Of course, in front of everybody! Thank God the church was well filled! I gave her ten rubles and picked her up. Lisa insisted on taking her back to her home.
(LISA enters, holding MARIA TIMOFEYEVNA by the hand.)
LISA: No, I changed my mind. I thought that you would all be pleased to know Maria Timofeyevna better.
MARIA: How beautiful it is! (She perceives SHATOV.) What, you are here, Shatoushka! What are you doing in high society?
VARVARA (to SHATOV) : Do you know this woman? SHATOV: Yes.
VARVARA: Who is she? SHATOV: See for yourself.
(She looks with anguish at MARIA TIMOFEYEVNA. ALEXEY YEGOROVICH comes in with coffee on a tray.)
VARVARA (tO MARIA TIMOFEYEVNA): You Were cold a moment ago, my dear. Drink this coffee— it will warm you up.
MARIA (smiling) : Yes. Oh, I had forgotten to give you back the shawl you lent me.
VARVARA: Keep it. It is yours. Sit down and drink your coffee. Don’t be afraid.
STEPAN: Chere amie—
VARVARA: Oh, you, be quiet. The situation is bad enough without your making it any worse!
Alexey, ask Dasha to come down.
PRASCOVYA: Lisa, we must leave now. This doesn’t concern you. We have no further contact with this house.
VARVARA: You have gone a little too far, Prascovya. Thank God that there’s no one but friends here to hear you.
PRASCOVYA: If they are friends, so much the better. But / am not afraid of public opinion. You are the one who, despite all your pride, trembles at the thought of what people will say. You are the one who is afraid of the truth.
VARVARA: What truth, Prascovya? PRASCOVYA: This truth.
(She points at MARIA TIMOFEYEVNA, who, seeing a finger pointing at her, giggles and fidgets, VARVARA stands up, white in the face, and mutters something that is not heard, DASHA enters upstage, and no one sees her but STEPAN TROFIMOVICH.)
STEPAN (after making signals intended to attract VARVARA STAVROGIN’J attention): Here is Dasha. MARIA: Oh! How beautiful she is! Well, Shatoushka, your sister doesn’t look like you at all.
VARVARA (to DASHA): Do you know this person? DASHA: I’ve never seen her. But I suppose she is Lebyatkin’s sister.
MARIA: Yes, he is my brother.
