MARY IVÁNOVNA. How’s that?
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. Quite simply! He cut it down, and they informed the Justice of Peace, and he has sentenced him to three months’ imprisonment. His wife has come about it.
MARY IVÁNOVNA. Well, and can’t anything be done?
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. Not now. The only way is not to possess any forest. And I will not possess any. What is one to do? I shall, however, go and see whether what we have done can be remedied. Goes out on to the verandah and meets Borís and Lyúba.
LYÚBA. Good morning, papa kisses him, where are you going?
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. I have just returned from the village and am going back again. They are just dragging a hungry man to prison because he …
LYÚBA. I suppose it’s Peter?
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. Yes, Peter. Exit, followed by Mary Ivánovna.
LYÚBA sits down in front of samovár Will you have tea or coffee?
BORÍS. I don’t mind.
LYÚBA. It’s always the same, and I see no end to it!
BORÍS. I don’t understand him. I know the people are poor and ignorant and must be helped, but not by encouraging thieves.
LYÚBA. But how?
BORÍS. By our whole Activity. By using all our knowledge in their service, but not by sacrificing one’s own life.
LYÚBA. And papa says, that that is just what is wanted.
BORÍS. I don’t understand. One can serve the people without ruining one’s own life. That is the way I want to arrange my life. If only you …
LYÚBA. I want what you want, and am not afraid of anything.
BORÍS. How about those earrings — that dress …
LYÚBA. The earrings can be sold and the dresses must be different, but one need not make oneself quite a guy.
BORÍS. I should like to have another talk with him. Do you think I should disturb him if I followed him to the village?
LYÚBA. Not at all. I see he has grown fond of you, and he addressed himself chiefly to you last night.
BORÍS finishes his coffee Well, I’ll go then.
LYÚBA. Yes, do, and I’ll go and wake Lisa and Tónya.
Curtain.
Scene 2
Village street. Iván Zyábrev, covered with a sheepskin coat, is lying near a hut.
IVÁN ZYÁBREV. Maláshka!
A tiny girl comes out of the hut with a baby in her arms. The baby is crying.
IVÁN ZYÁBREV. Get me a drink of water.
Maláshka goes back into the hut, from where the baby can be heard screaming. She brings a bowl of water.
IVÁN ZYÁBREV. Why do you always beat the youngster and make him howl? I’ll tell mother.
MALÁSHKA. Tell her then. It’s hunger makes him howl!
IVÁN ZYÁBREV drinks You should go and ask the Démkins for some milk.
MALÁSHKA. I went, but there wasn’t any. And there was no one at home.
IVÁN ZYÁBREV. Oh! if only I could die! Have they rung for dinner?
MALÁSHKA. They have. Here’s the master coming.
Enter Nicholas Ivánovich.
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. Why have you come out here?
IVÁN ZYÁBREV. Too many flies in there, and it’s too hot.
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. Then you’re warm now?
IVÁN ZYÁBREV. Yes, now I’m burning all over.
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. And where is Peter? Is he at home?
IVÁN ZYÁBREV. At home, at this time? Why, he’s gone to the field to cart the corn.
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. And I hear that they want to put him in prison.
IVÁN ZYÁBREV. That’s so, the Policeman has gone to the field for him.
Enter a pregnant Woman, carrying a sheaf of oats and a rake. She immediately hits Maláshka on the back of the head.
WOMAN. What d’you mean by leaving the baby? Don’t you hear him howling! Running about the streets is all you know.
MALÁSHKA howling I’ve only just come out. Daddy wanted a drink.
WOMAN. I’ll give it you. She sees the land-owner, N. I. Sarýntsov Good-day, sir. Children are a trouble! I’m quite done up, everything on my shoulders, and now they’re taking our only worker to prison, and this lout is sprawling about here.
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. What are you saying? He’s quite ill!
WOMAN. He’s ill, and what about me? Am I not ill? When it’s work, he’s ill; but to merry-make or pull my hair out, he’s not too ill. Let him die like a hound! What do I care?
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. How can you say such wicked things?
WOMAN. I know it’s a sin; but I can’t subdue my heart. I’m expecting another child, and I have to work for two. Other people have their harvest in already, and we have not mowed a quarter of our oats yet. I ought to finish binding the sheaves, but can’t. I had to come and see what the children were about.
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. The oats shall be cut — I’ll hire someone, and to bind the sheaves too.
WOMAN. Oh, binding’s nothing. I can do that myself, if it’s only mown down quick. What d’you think, Nicholas Ivánovich, will he die? He is very ill!
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. I don’t know. But he really is very ill. I think we must send him to the hospital.
WOMAN. Oh God! Begins to cry Don’t take him away, let him die here.28 To her husband, who utters something What’s the matter?
IVÁN ZYÁBREV. I want to go to the hospital. Here I’m treated worse than a dog.
WOMAN. Well, I don’t know. I’ve lost my head. Maláshka, get dinner ready.
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. What have you for dinner?
WOMAN. What? Why, potatoes and bread, and not enough of that. Enters hut. A pig squeals, and children are crying inside.
IVÁN ZYÁBREV groans Oh Lord, if I could but die!
Enter Borís.
BORÍS. Can I be of any use?
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. Here no one can be of use to another. The evil is too deeply rooted. Here we can only be of use to ourselves, by seeing on what we build our happiness. Here is a family: five children, the wife pregnant, the husband ill, nothing but potatoes to eat, and at this moment the question is being decided whether they are to have enough to eat next year or not. Help is not possible. How can one help? Suppose I hire a labourer; who will he be? Just such another man: one who has given up his farming, from drink or from want.
BORÍS. Excuse me, but if so, what are you doing here?
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. I am learning my own position. Finding out who weeds our gardens, builds our houses, makes our garments, and feeds and clothes us. Peasants with scythes and women with rakes pass by and bow. Nicholas Ivánovich, stopping one of the Peasants Ermíl, won’t you take on the job of carting for these people?
ERMÍL shakes his head I would with all my heart, but I can’t possibly do it. I haven’t carted my own yet. We are off now to do some carting. But is Iván dying?
ANOTHER PEASANT. Here’s Sebastian, he may take on the job. I say, Daddy Sebastian! They want a man to get the oats in.
SEBASTIAN. Take the job on yourself. At this time of year one day’s work brings a year’s food. The Peasants pass on.
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. They are all half-starved; they have only bread and water, they are ill, and many of them are old. That old man, for instance, is ruptured and is suffering, and yet he works from four in the morning to ten at night, though he is only half alive. And we? Is it possible, realising all this, to live quietly and consider oneself a Christian? Or let alone a Christian — simply not a beast?
BORÍS. But what can one do?
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. Not take part in this evil. Not own the land, nor devour the fruits of their labour. How this can be arranged, I don’t yet know. The fAct of the matter is — at any rate it was so with me — I lived and did not realise how I was living. I did not realise that I am a son of God and that we are all sons of God — and all brothers. But as soon as I realised it — realised that we have all an equal right to live — my whole life was turned upside down. But I cannot explain it to you now. I will only tell you this: I was blind, just as my people at home are, but now my eyes are opened and I cannot help seeing; and seeing it all, I can’t continue to live in such a way. However, that will keep till later. Now we must see what can be done.
Enter Policeman, Peter, his wife, and boy.
PETER falls at Nicholas Ivánovich’s feet Forgive me, for the Lord’s sake, or I’m ruined. How can the woman get in the harvest? If at least I might be bailed out.
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. I will go and write a petition for you. To Policeman Can’t you let him remain here for the present?
POLICEMAN. Our orders are to take him to the police-station now.
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH to Peter Well then go, and I’ll do what I can. This is evidently my doing. How can one go on living like this? Exit.
Curtain.
Scene 3
In the same country-house. It is raining outside. A drawing-room with a grand piano. Tónya has just finished playing a sonata of Schumann’s and is sitting at the piano. Styópa is standing by the piano. Borís is sitting. Lyúba, Lisa, Mitrofán Ermílych and the young Priest are all stirred by the music.
LYÚBA. That andante! Isn’t it lovely!
STYÓPA. No, the scherzo. Though really the whole of it is beautiful.
LISA. Very fine.
STYÓPA. But I had no idea you were such an artist. It is real masterly play. Evidently the difficulties no longer exist for you, and you think only of the feeling, and express it with wonderful delicacy.
LYÚBA. Yes, and with dignity.
TÓNYA. While I felt that it was
