MÁSHA. And why have I taken it into my head to care for you!
FÉDYA. Másha!
MÁSHA. Well, what about “Másha, Másha”? If you were really in love, you’d have got a divorce long ago. They themselves asked you to. You say you don’t love her, but all the same you keep to her! I see you don’t wish …
FÉDYA. But you know why I don’t wish!
MÁSHA. That’s all rubbish. People say quite truly that you’re an empty fellow.
FÉDYA. What can I say to you? That your words hurt me, you know without being told!
MÁSHA. Nothing hurts you!
FÉDYA. You know that the one joy I have in life is your love.
MÁSHA. My love — yes; but yours doesn’t exist.
FÉDYA. All right. I’m not going to assure you. Besides, what’s the good? You know!
MÁSHA. Fédya; why torment me?
FÉDYA. Which of us torments?
MÁSHA [cries] You are unkind!
FÉDYA [goes up and embraces her] Másha! What’s it all about? Stop that. One must live, and not whine. It doesn’t suit you at all, my lovely one!
MÁSHA. You do love me?
FÉDYA. Whom else could I love?
MÁSHA. Only me? Well then, read what you have been writing.
FÉDYA. It will bore you.
MÁSHA. It’s you who wrote it, so it’s sure to be good.
FÉDYA. Well then listen. [Reads] “One day, late in autumn, my friend and I agreed to meet on the Murýgin fields, where there was a close thicket with many young birds in it. The day was dull, warm, and quiet. The mist …”
Enter two old gipsies, Másha’s parents, Iván Makárovich and Nastásia Ivánovna.
NASTÁSIA [stepping up to her daughter] Here you are then, you damned runaway sheep! [To Fédya] My respects to you, sir! [To Másha] Is that how you treat us, eh?
IVÁN [to Fédya] It’s wrong, sir, what you’re doing! You’re ruining the wench! Oh, but it’s wrong … You’re doing a dirty deed.
NASTÁSIA. Put on your shawl! March at once!… Running away like this! What can I say to the choir? Gallivanting with a beggar — what can you get out of him?
MÁSHA. I don’t gallivant! I love this gentleman, that’s all. I’ve not left the choir. I’ll go on singing, and what …
IVÁN. Say another word, and I’ll pull the hair off your head!… Slut!… Who behaves like that? Not your father, nor your mother, nor your aunt!… It’s bad, sir! We were fond of you — often and often we sang to you without pay. We pitied you, and what have you done?
NASTÁSIA. You’ve ruined our daughter for nothing … our own, our only daughter, the light of our eyes, our priceless jewel — you’ve trodden her into the mire, that’s what you’ve done! You’ve no conscience.
FÉDYA. Nastásia Ivánovna, you suspect me falsely. Your daughter is like a sister to me. I care for her honour. You must think no evil … but I love her! What is one to do?
IVÁN. But you didn’t love her when you had money! If you’d then subscribed ten thousand roubles or so to the choir, you might have had her honourably. But now you’ve squandered everything, and carry her off by stealth! It’s a shame, sir, a shame!
MÁSHA. He has not carried me off! I came to him myself, and if you take me away now, I shall come back again. I love him, and there’s an end of it! My love is stronger than all your locks … I won’t!
NASTÁSIA. Come, Másha dearest! Come, my own! Don’t sulk. You’ve done wrong, and now come along.
IVÁN. Now then, you’ve talked enough! March! [Seizes her hand] Excuse us, sir! [Exit the three gipsies].
Enter Prince Abrézkov.
PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. Excuse me. I have been an unwilling witness of an unpleasant scene.…
FÉDYA. Whom have I the honour?… [Recognises the Prince] Ah, Prince Abrézkov! [They shake hands].
PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. An unwilling witness of an unpleasant scene. I should have been glad not to hear, but having overheard it, I consider it my duty to tell you so. I was directed here, and had to wait at the door for those people to come out — more particularly as their very loud voices rendered my knocking inaudible.
FÉDYA. Yes, yes — please take a seat. Thank you for telling me: it gives me the right to explain that scene to you. I don’t mind what you may think of me, but I should like to tell you that the reproaches you heard addressed to that girl, that gipsy singer, were unjust. That girl is as morally pure as a dove; and my relations with her are those of a friend. There may be a tinge of romance in them, but it does not destroy the purity — the honour — of the girl. That is what I wished to tell you; but what is it you want of me? In what way can I be of service?
PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. In the first place, I …
FÉDYA. Forgive me, Prince. My present social standing is such, that my former slight acquaintance with you does not entitle me to a visit from you, unless you have some business with me. What is it?
PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. I won’t deny it. You have guessed right. I have business with you; but I beg you to believe that the alteration in your position in no wise affects my attitude towards you.
FÉDYA. I am sure of it.
PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. My business is this. The son of my old friend, Anna Dmítrievna Karénina, and she herself, have asked me to ascertain directly from you what are your relations … May I speak out?… your relations with your wife, Elisabeth Andréyevna Protásova.
FÉDYA. My relations with my wife, or rather with her who was my wife, are entirely at an end.
PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. So I understood, and that is why I accepted this difficult mission.
FÉDYA. At an end, and, I hasten to add, not by her fault, but by mine — by my innumerable faults. She is, as she always was, quite irreproachable.
PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. Well then, Victor Karénin, or rather his mother, asked me to find out what your intentions are.
FÉDYA [growing excited] What intentions? I have none. I set her quite free! Moreover, I will never disturb her peace. I know she loves Victor Karénin. Well, let her! I consider him a very dull, but very good and honourable man, and I think that she will, as the phrase goes, be happy with him; and — que le bon Dieu les bénisse! That’s all …
PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. Yes, but we …
FÉDYA [interrupting] And don’t suppose that I feel the least bit jealous. If I said that Victor is dull, I withdraw the remark. He is an excellent, honourable, moral man: almost the direct opposite of myself. And he has loved her from childhood. Perhaps she too may have loved him when she married me — that happens sometimes! The very best love is unconscious love. I believe she always did love him; but as an honest woman she did not confess it even to herself. But … a shadow of some kind always lay across our family life — but why am I confessing to you?
PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. Please do! Believe me, my chief reason for coming to you was my desire to understand the situation fully.… I understand you. I understand that the shadow, as you so well express it, may have been …
FÉDYA. Yes, it was; and that perhaps is why I could not find satisfAction in the family life she provided for me, but was always seeking something, and being carried away. However, that sounds like excusing myself. I don’t want to, and can’t, excuse myself. I was (I say with assurance, was) a bad husband. I say was, because in my consciousness I am not, and have long not been, her husband. I consider her perfectly free. So there you have my answer to your question.
PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. Yes, but you know Victor’s family, and himself too. His relation to Elisabeth Andréyevna is, and has been all through, most respectful and distant. He assisted her when she was in trouble …
FÉDYA. Yes, I by my dissipation helped to draw them together. What’s to be done? It had to be so!
PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. You know the strictly Orthodox convictions of that family. Having myself a broader outlook on things, I do not share them; but I respect and understand them. I understand that for him, and especially for his mother, union with a woman without a Church marriage is unthinkable.
FÉDYA. Yes, I know his stu … his strictness, his conservatism in these matters. But what do they want? A divorce? I told them long ago that I am quite willing; but the business of taking the blame on myself, and all the lies connected with it, are very trying.…
PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. I quite understand you, and sympathise. But how can it be avoided? I think it might be arranged that way — but you are right. It is dreadful, and I quite understand you.
FÉDYA [pressing the Prince’s hand] Thank you, dear Prince! I always knew you were a kind and honourable man. Tell me what to do. How am I to Act? Put yourself in my place. I am not trying to improve. I am a good-for-nothing; but there are things I cannot do quietly. I cannot quietly tell lies.
PRINCE ABRÉZKOV. I don’t understand you! You, a capable, intelligent man, so sensitive to what is good — how can you let yourself be so carried away — so forget what you expect of yourself? How have you ruined your life and come to this?
FÉDYA [forcing back tears of emotion] I have led this disorderly life for ten years,
