Chapter VI: Act I: Tableau I

_A room, cheaply papered, shabbily furnished; in the rear two doors, one opening on the street, the other leading into an adjoining room; the windows are hung with chintz curtains._

SCENE I

_KARP is unfastening a valise, and ZÁYCHIKHA (PROKÓFYEVNA) is looking out of the window._

PROKÓFYEVNA. Just look, dear sir, how many people have gathered.

KARP. What do they want? Why are they curious?

PROKÓFYEVNA. Every one, dear sir, wishes to know who it is that has arrived.

KARP. They say you're provincials, and you certainly are provincials. Well, tell them that it's Babáyev, Valentin Pávlich, a landowner.

PROKÓFYEVNA. [_Speaking through the window_] Babáyev, a landowner. [_To KARP_] They're asking why you came.

KARP. On business, of course. Did you think we came here for sport? Much chance there would be for that here.

PROKÓFYEVNA. [_Through the window_] For business. [_To KARP_] Will you remain long?

KARP. We certainly haven't come to settle here. We may stay two days; not longer, you may be sure.

PROKÓFYEVNA. [_Through the window_] For two days. [_Withdraws from the window_] Now I've satisfied them. In five minutes the entire city will know.

KARP. Your lodging is all right; it's clean.

PROKÓFYEVNA. Certainly it's clean, sir. No great frills, but it's clean. Of course there's no great travelling to our town.

KARP. It isn't on the highway.

PROKÓFYEVNA. Highway, not much! Yet the best people that do come here, lodge with me. I know a lot of the landowners who come here. They are used to me; very few of them ever go to the hotel.

KARP. Because it's so noisy.

PROKÓFYEVNA. Yes, I should say so! Down-stairs is a bar-room; and on market days the noise is dreadful. Please tell me, wasn't your master's mother Sofya Pavlovna, the wife of General Babáyev?

KARP. Exactly so.

PROKÓFYEVNA. Is their estate called Zavetnoye?

KARP. Yes.

PROKÓFYEVNA. So, so. I recognized him just now. I used to see him as a youngster. He often rode to town with his mother, and they would call on me. Does he live in the country?

KARP. No, we are most of the time in St. Petersburg; but now we have come to the country to arrange business matters.

PROKÓFYEVNA. So, so. But is he a good man to deal with?

KARP. Pretty good.

PROKÓFYEVNA. Well, thank the Lord! May He reward him! What business brought you to our town?

KARP. Oh, those endless legal matters. Petty business, something to bear witness to; but I suppose he'll waste five days over it.

PROKÓFYEVNA. It wouldn't be surprising. Have you called on the judges?

KARP. Yes, we called on them all. Just now they sent us a clerk from court.

PROKÓFYEVNA. They'll probably do it quicker for you than for us. If you need anything, knock on the wall, and I'll come. [_Goes out_.

BABÁYEV _and_ SHISHGÁLEV _enter at the side door_.

SCENE II

BABÁYEV, SHISHGÁLEV, _and_ KARP

BABÁYEV. So you say, my dear sir, that it is absolutely impossible?

SHISHGÁLEV. [_Bowing and continually blowing his nose and covering his mouth with his hand_] But, believe me, sir, if it were at all possible we should have----

BABÁYEV. Maybe it is possible?

SHISHGÁLEV. Judge for yourself, sir. Now the court session has ended, it is quite impossible to assemble the members; to-morrow is a holiday--then comes Saturday and then Sunday.

BABÁYEV. Just think, my dear sir, how you are treating me!

SHISHGÁLEV. How am I to blame? I'm the humblest sort of man.

BABÁYEV. But, my dear sir, what shall I do here for the next four days? It is dreadful!

SHISHGÁLEV. You can look around, sir, and take a glance at our city.

KARP. What's the use of looking at it? What is there to see here? I suppose you'll say that St. Petersburg is not as fine a city as yours.

BABÁYEV. Have you any kind of social life?

SHISHGÁLEV. I beg pardon, sir?

BABÁYEV. I said, have you any social life, any sort of club, entertainment with music, or parties?

SHISHGÁLEV. No, we haven't.

BABÁYEV. But where do the members of the court and the rest of them spend their time?

SHISHGÁLEV. They usually spend it together.

BABÁYEV. How together?

SHISHGÁLEV. Every day is assigned. For instance, to-day they are with the prefect, to-morrow with the judge, day after to-morrow with the attorney; then with the farmer of the spirit tax, and next with the retired police captain--and so all the week goes by.

BABÁYEV. At what time do they meet?

SHISHGÁLEV. About six o'clock.

BABÁYEV. What do they do then?

SHISHGÁLEV. They play preference.

BABÁYEV. And what else, certainly not only preference?

SHISHGÁLEV. That's the truth, just preference. But usually they have tables with drinks and refreshments--just as it should be. They play, and then they take a bite, and so they pass the time.

BABÁYEV. And do they all drink, from six o'clock on?

SHISHGÁLEV. Oh, no, by no means! Only the dealer, or some one who has to pay a fine.

BABÁYEV. Then, my dear sir, I can't help it. I've got to wait.

SHISHGÁLEV. Just wait awhile, sir. On Monday you will please appear in court, and we'll arrange the matter without delay.

BABÁYEV. Very well, I will be in court on Monday. But you'll have some writing to do for me. Then I'll give you--as is proper--I don't like any one to labor for me for nothing.

SHISHGÁLEV. My family is large, Your Honor----

BABÁYEV. What's that?

SHISHGÁLEV. Do have the kindness to bestow a little something----

BABÁYEV. Really, I don't know; how's that? How much do you want?

KARP. Give him one ruble, sir; that'll be enough for him.

BABÁYEV. [_Giving the money_] Here you are--I'm really ashamed.

SHISHGÁLEV. [_Depositing the coin in his pocket_] Not at all. I thank you heartily; I wish you all good fortune. [_Goes out_.

SCENE III

BABÁYEV _and_ KARP

BABÁYEV. How rude you are, Karp.

KARP. If you begin to be sentimental with 'em, sir, they'll get the habit of calling around here and bewailing their fate. No amount of money will suffice 'em. They're a godless crowd.

BABÁYEV. Well, what'll I do? I'd like to go for a walk, but it's still hot. Karp, what shall I do?

KARP. I'll tell you what, go to sleep; after travelling it's a good thing.

BABÁYEV. But what shall I do at night?

KARP. At night just the same. They say people sleep when they're bored.

BABÁYEV. How stupid I was not to bring any books. If I only had some frivolous intrigue to amuse myself with for four days. [_Goes out through the side door._]

KARP. So that's what you wish! An intrigue! That's his style! He was his mother's spoiled darling and he was raised with young ladies and in the housemaids' room, and he has a hankering for that kind of thing now. Since I've lived in St. Petersburg with him, what things I have seen; it was shameful! I wonder if he's asleep? I'd like to have a nap. [_He's about to lie down when the door opens_] Who's that?

LUKÉRYA _comes in._

SCENE IV

KARP and LUKÉRYA

KARP. What do you want?

LUKÉRYA. Valentin Pávlich.

KARP. What do you want of him?

LUKÉRYA. If I want to see him, of course it must be necessary.

KARP. Do you want help of some sort?

LUKÉRYA. How rude! Aren't you aware that the Zhmigulin ladies were always welcome at the home of your master's mother? I am also very intimately acquainted with Valentin Pávlich.

KARP. You are? I doubt it.

LUKÉRYA. Maybe you stupidly misunderstand my words in some way that's beyond me. [_Sits down_] Your business is to go right off and announce me.

KARP. I tell you he's asleep now.

LUKÉRYA. That can't be, because I've just seen him through the window.

KARP. Well, I see I can't do anything with you; I'll have to announce you. [_Goes out._]

LUKÉRYA. In these modern times, these new changes have done a lot to spoil people. He ought to have found out first what my rank was, and then treated me accordingly. And it's not his business whether I came to ask for aid or not. To be sure, people of our station are often engaged in that, but not all. Maybe Valentin Pávlich has become so proud since he has lived in St. Petersburg that he will not wish to see me. But I'm so anxious to show every one here what acquaintances we have. I think he didn't disdain us formerly, especially sister Tánya.

_BABÁYEV comes in._

SCENE V

BABÁYEV and LUKÉRYA

BABÁYEV. Whom have I the honor of addressing?

LUKÉRYA. I hardly expected, Valentin Pávlich, that you would so soon forget old acquaintances.

BABÁYEV. Be seated, please. [_Both sit down_] I somehow do not recall.

LUKÉRYA. Of course, nowadays feelings are not in vogue; now it's all a matter of calculation; but we provincials aren't like you in St. Petersburg; we remember our former acquaintances, and especially our benefactors.

BABÁYEV. I agree with you--benefactors should always be remembered.

LUKÉRYA. We are so indebted to your mother that words fail me to express it. She did so much for the Zhmigulin family.

BABÁYEV. The Zhmigulins?

LUKÉRYA. Especially for sister Tánya and me.

BABÁYEV. [_Rising_] Tánya--Tatyána Danílovna?

LUKÉRYA. Do you remember, now?

BABÁYEV. So you are her sister?

LUKÉRYA. Lukérya Danílovna Zhmigulin.

BABÁYEV. Pardon me, I beg of you.

LUKÉRYA. I'm not in the least offended because you remember my sister more readily than you do me. She's so beautiful that it's impossible to forget her.

BABÁYEV. Yes, yes, she was an exceedingly beautiful girl; we were great friends.

LUKÉRYA. I'm aware of that. Who should know it if not I? Being the elder sister I had to care for the younger.

BABÁYEV. Yes, yes, to be sure. Tell me, if you please, where is she now? What is she doing?

LUKÉRYA. She's here in the city, married.

BABÁYEV. Married? Does she live happily?

LUKÉRYA. Judge for yourself. She lives in poverty among stupid, ignorant people. It isn't as it was in your mother's house at Zavetnoye. That was an earthly paradise! Your mother was the kindest of ladies, and liked to have everybody happy at her house. There were always lots of young ladies in her house, and likewise young gentlemen, and they played games from morning till night. She made even the chambermaids play tag with us and other games, and she looked on and enjoyed it.

BABÁYEV. Yes, yes, it was but a short time ago. It's no more than three years since I left for St. Petersburg.

LUKÉRYA. I remember it very well. You left three years ago last carnival time. Your mother didn't like any of her guests to be moody or to read books. She would say: "Why, you're spoiling everybody's spirits." Every one was madly gay for her sake, but in the midst of all that gayety anybody who had a keen eye could see quite a little.

BABÁYEV. Nothing more natural! Men, girls, and young ladies continually together--of course they couldn't help falling in love.

LUKÉRYA. You were especially strong in that line. You were continually with Tánya, and you never left her, so they called you the "doves."

BABÁYEV. One's heart's not a stone, Lukérya Danílovna. Even you yourself--do you remember the surveyor?

LUKÉRYA. He isn't worth remembering. Later on he behaved in a very ungentlemanly way to me. But fate has punished him for his lack of courtesy towards a girl of noble birth. He's now in jail for being drunk and disorderly.

BABÁYEV. Kindly tell me how it happened that your sister married?

LUKÉRYA. When your mamma died last summer we had absolutely no one left to help us. Our papa in his old age was of no account in the city. He was a timid man, and so he didn't get on well. Our father was a clerk in the Chancery Office, and he received a salary of thirty rubles a year. How could we live on such a sum? And yet we saw something of society. At first we were hardly ever at home, and your mamma aided us in many ways. Suddenly all that stopped, and soon our father died. At that time Tánya received an offer from--I'm almost ashamed to tell you.

BABÁYEV. Why, what are you ashamed of?

LUKÉRYA. You are receiving me so graciously, and your interest in my sister makes me feel that our actions have been very uncivil.

BABÁYEV. That can't be helped. Probably it was all due to circumstances. What are you to blame for?

LUKÉRYA. You can hardly imagine the degree of embarrassment this relationship causes me. In a word, our circumstances were such that she was forced to marry a petty shopkeeper.

BABÁYEV. A petty shopkeeper? What kind of shop has he?

LUKÉRYA. A vegetable shop. You can see it from here, the sign reads, "Lev Krasnóv."

BABÁYEV. Yes, I noticed it. Is he a good man?

LUKÉRYA. Considering the type, he's a very nice man, and he loves sister very dearly. Yet there is something so inherently bad about his calling that, judge as you will, he's still not very far removed from a peasant. That trait of character, if you boil a man for seven years in a kettle, you cannot boil out. Yet I must give him credit for taking good care of his house. He doesn't give himself any rest day or night; he toils hard all the time. As for my sister, he's willing to give her whatever her heart desires, even his last kopek, just to please her, so that she does absolutely nothing, and lives like a lady. But his manners are boorish, and his conversation embarrasses us very much. Altogether this is not the kind of happiness I wished for Tánya. Judging by her beauty and the standing of her former admirers, she should now be riding in a carriage. As it is, necessity has forced her to marry a peasant, almost for a crust of bread, and to blush for him whenever she sees anybody.

BABÁYEV. So Tatyána Danílovna has married--I'm sorry.

LUKÉRYA. You needn't feel sorry. She's no match for you.

BABÁYEV. Of course.--Here I am in this city, and owing to circumstances I'm forced to remain at least four days, and maybe more. What am I going to do? I'm very much pleased that you have called on me. If it hadn't been for you I don't know what I should have done with myself. Now, just imagine, if your sister weren't married, we'd spend these four days so that we shouldn't know how the time was passing. [_Takes her by the hand_] Isn't that true?

LUKÉRYA. Who's keeping you from that now?

BABÁYEV. Well, you see it's awkward; being married, what will her husband think? It's really provoking.

LUKÉRYA. You don't mean it! It seems to me that you used to have different opinions on such things. You weren't so anxious to know what pleased the husbands and what didn't.

BABÁYEV. Yes, but that was in an entirely different social circle. There manners are much more free.

LUKÉRYA. How do you know whether my sister has freedom or hasn't?

BABÁYEV. [_Taking both her hands_] At all events, I'm so glad, so thankful to you for furnishing me with diversion when I was bored. Don't you want something? Be good enough to make yourself at home; everything is at your service. Will you have some tea?

LUKÉRYA. Thank you, I've just had tea. But I must hurry home now. I have to attend to some matters with sister. Shall I extend her your greetings?

BABÁYEV. Please be so kind.

LUKÉRYA. [_Going to the door_] Why don't you invite sister and me to call on you?

BABÁYEV. I should be so happy to have you, only I really don't know how to arrange it. I should like very much to see Tatyána Danílovna.

LUKÉRYA. If you wish to see her, then where's the obstacle? She isn't a princess imprisoned behind ten locks. You'll go for a walk, no doubt, as you can't remain in your room?

BABÁYEV. I should like to go, but I hardly know in what direction.

LUKÉRYA. You needn't go far. Stroll out of the rear gate to the river-bank, sit down on the bench and enjoy the beauty of nature. It's a quiet, secluded place; few people ever go there. It's a most delightful walk for sentimental young people. Sister and I will go that way, and there you may be able to see her. Good day! [_She goes out._

BABÁYEV. What a surprise! Could I have expected such good fortune? Little Tánya, little Tánya! I shall see her again! I'll go mad with joy. She was so charming, so delicate. Some people said that she didn't have much sense, but is that a fault in a woman? And then her beauty, her beauty! It's likely that instead of four days I'll stay four weeks. [_Goes out._

TABLEAU II

_The bank of a river; at one side a fence and gate, at the other a corner of a barn; beyond the river stretches the countryside; sunset._

SCENE I

_Enter_ ARKHÍP _and_ AFÓNYA

AFÓNYA. Grandfather, let's rest here awhile. I feel ill to-day. Sit down here, on the bench.

ARKHÍP. Very well, Afónya, we'll sit down here. You and I are unfortunate: age is overcoming me and sickness you.

AFÓNYA. I'm not ailing. I was born so. Grandfather, I shan't live long in this bright world.

ARKHÍP. Don't listen to old wives' tales. No one knows what fate awaits him.

AFÓNYA. What do I care for old wives! I know that I shall not live long. My appetite is failing. Others have such hearty appetites after working. They eat a whole lot and want more. There's brother Lev, when he's tired--just keep giving him food. But I don't care if I never eat at all. My soul won't take anything. I just swallow a crust--and am satisfied.

ARKHÍP. That helps growth.

AFÓNYA. No, it doesn't. Why should I grow any more, anyhow! As it is, I am tall for my age. But it's a sign that I shall not live. Just listen, grandfather; a man who is alive thinks of living things, but I don't have any interest in anything. Some people like nice clothes, but for me it's all the same--whatever rag is near at hand--just so I'm warm. For instance, all the boys have some hobby; some like fishing, others games, some sing songs; but nothing attracts me. While others are happy I feel depressed. Misery seems to grip my heart.

ARKHÍP. That is God's gift to you. From your childhood you have had no love for this vain world. Some lose their faint-heartedness with years, when woes and afflictions, Afónya, crush and grind a man into powder; but you have never lived, have not yet tasted the world's sorrows or joys, and yet you reason like an old man. Thank God that he has made you wise. The world does not charm you: you do not know temptation, so your sins are less. That is your good fortune. Just listen to me. I, Afónya, have known temptation and have not always turned aside from it, and most often I sought temptation of my own free will. You say everything seems the same to you, that nothing in the world delights you; but to me God's world was good and bright. Everything beckoned and charmed me. An unsated eye and free will command one to taste all the pleasures of the universe. But in the world, Afónya, good and evil go hand in hand. Well, one's sins may be more in number than the sands of the sea. Luckily God prolonged my life, that I might repent, and did not strike me down in my sins. We repent and humble ourselves and hope for mercy; but you will have nothing to repent of; you, Afónya, are a man of God.

AFÓNYA. No, grandfather, no, do not speak so. How am I a man of God? I have seen men of God, but they are good and do not remember evil. They are abused and mocked, but they laugh at it, while I am rough and harsh, just like my brother; only brother is forgiving though quick-tempered, while I am not. I, grandfather, I have an evil temper.

ARKHÍP. At whom should you be angry, my child; who injures you?

AFÓNYA. No one injures me, but my heart aches for every one--for you, for brother, for all of you.

ARKHÍP. Why are you grieving for us? We have nothing to complain of.

AFÓNYA. We didn't have anything to complain of, grandfather, before brother married. Grandfather, why does brother love his wife so?

ARKHÍP. Why shouldn't he love her? Why did he marry her? You should be happy because he loves his wife. What a foolish fellow you are!

AFÓNYA. No, I speak the truth. Formerly brother used to love you and me much more than now.

ARKHÍP. So you are jealous! Probably you are envious.

AFÓNYA. No, it isn't envy; but is my brother blind? Does she love him as he does her? Is she worthy of him? Why is he so servile in the presence of her and her kin? His servility offends me. Is he inferior to her and her sister? One marries a wife to have a helper; but she sits with folded hands. Brother alone works and dances attendance on them. I pity him.

ARKHÍP. What business is it of yours? It's his own choice. He works and doesn't force you to. You and I are fed by his kindness.

AFÓNYA. Don't I know that? Tell me, grandfather, is she any better than brother or not?

ARKHÍP. Better or not, she is of different sort.

AFÓNYA. What do you mean by "different sort"! As it is, brother is obliged to work for them, feed and clothe them, while they give themselves airs. There isn't a better man in the world than brother, and they have made him their drudge.

ARKHÍP. How do you know? Your brother himself may not wish her to work.

AFÓNYA. But if she doesn't work then she'd better not put on airs. Since she married a commoner she should be one like the rest of us. Are we a sort of accursed people? Lord, pardon me for saying it! We too have our communal society and we pay taxes and take part in other obligations. My brother gets money by sweat and toil, and contributes it to the community. She might stay at home and play the lady, but if she marries, then she should know that there is one master in the house--her husband. You see, grandfather, I see and hear everything, since they are so shameless as not to pay any heed to me. Brother gives her kerchiefs and silk dresses, while she and her sister laugh at him and call him a fool. I hear it all; it is bitter to me, grandfather, bitter. I began to speak to brother about it, but he scolded me. [_Pause_] Grandfather, that is why I can't sleep. What I see by day appears to me at night, gnaws at my heart, and I weep all night. I shan't live long. My health cannot improve now because my temper is altogether too violent. If God would only take me quickly so that I should have less suffering!

ARKHÍP. Don't say such sinful things! You have to live and live! You see, Afónya, I have nothing to live for, yet I keep on living. God knows the reason of all this. What a man I am! I never see the fair sun or the bright moon, and likewise I shall never see the green meadows or the cool waters and all creatures of God. But hardest of all is that I cannot see the bright face of man.

AFÓNYA. It is a pity, grandfather, that you cannot see; but I'm tired of everything, nothing comforts me.

ARKHÍP. The reason you are not comforted is that your heart is not at peace. Look at God's world longer and more often, and less at men and women, and you will become lighter of heart; you will sleep at night and have pleasant dreams. Where are we sitting now, Afónya?

AFÓNYA. On the bank, grandfather, beside Prokófyevna's house.

ARKHÍP. Is the bridge at our right?

AFÓNYA. Yes, grandfather.

ARKHÍP. Is the sun at our left?

AFÓNYA. Yes, grandfather, but it's almost set.

ARKHÍP. In a cloud?

AFÓNYA. No, it is clear. The twilight is so brilliant. We'll have fine weather.

ARKHÍP. That's it, that's it. I feel it myself. The air is so light and the breeze so fresh that I do not want to leave. Beautiful, Afónya, beautiful is God's world. Now the dew will fall and fragrance will rise from every flower; and yonder the stars will come out; and above the stars, Afónya, is our merciful Creator. If we remembered more constantly that He is merciful, we ourselves should be more merciful.

AFÓNYA. I will try to subdue my heart, grandfather. [BABÁYEV _comes in_] Let us go. Some strange gentleman is walking here; he would probably laugh at our talk.

ARKHÍP. [_Following_ AFÓNYA] My soul magnifies God. _They go out_.

SCENE II

BABÁYEV _alone_

BABÁYEV. When you are waiting for something pleasant the time seems to drag! I purposely came by the longest road so as not to arrive too early, but nevertheless I got here before they did. How I hate to wait! What a foolish situation! Women generally like to torment: it's their nature; they like to have someone wait for them. Of course, that doesn't apply to Tánya; I believe she's very, very glad that I have arrived. I speak of women of our own sort. I think they torment, because--how shall I express it--the idea is entirely original--in order to compensate themselves in advance for the rights which they lose later. That's the result of being in a lovely landscape face to face with nature! What brilliant thoughts come to one! If this thought were developed at leisure, in the country, it might form a small novel, even a comedy on the order of Alfred de Musset. But such things are not played in our country. They must be presented delicately, very delicately--here the principal thing is the--bouquet. I think some one is coming. Is it they? How shall we meet? Two years of separation mean much.

TATYÁNA _and_ LUKÉRYA _come in_.

SCENE III

BABÁYEV, TATYÁNA, and LUKÉRYA

TATYÁNA. [_Extending her hand to_ BABÁYEV] How do you do, Valentin Pávlich! I was so happy when sister told me that you had returned.

BABÁYEV. So, do you still remember me?

TATYÁNA. Indeed I do! We frequently, that is, sister and I, very frequently speak of you. She tells me that you have forgotten us.

BABÁYEV. No, I have not forgotten you. There are memories, my darling Tatyána Danílovna, which are not readily forgotten. My acquaintance with you was of that sort. Isn't that so?

TATYÁNA. [_Dropping her eyes_] Yes, sir.

BABÁYEV. Let me assure you that as soon as I could tear myself away from St. Petersburg, and come to the country, I continually sought an occasion to visit this city and to find you without fail.

LUKÉRYA. Have you never found such an occasion before now? Don't tell me that!

BABÁYEV. I assure you.

LUKÉRYA. Much we believe you! Tánya, do not believe the gentlemen; they always deceive.

BABÁYEV. Why speak so to me?

LUKÉRYA. That doesn't apply just to you, but to all other fine young gentlemen.

TATYÁNA. Shall you remain long in this city?

BABÁYEV. Shall I remain long? At first I thought it would depend upon the clerks who have my affair in hand, but now I see that it will depend upon you, my darling Tatyána Danílovna.

TATYÁNA. That honors me entirely too much. No, tell me, shall you be here three or four days?

BABÁYEV. They promised to arrange my affairs in three days, but maybe I'll stay three or four days longer, if you wish me to.

TATYÁNA. Certainly, I do.

BABÁYEV. There is just one drawback, my darling Tatyána Danílovna: your city is dreadfully lonesome. I will remain on one condition, that I may see you as often as possible.

TATYÁNA. That's very simple. Call on us. We shall be delighted to have you come to tea to-morrow.

BABÁYEV. Yes, but it's impossible to call on you often, as gossip and talk spreads, and then there's your husband----

TATYÁNA. This doesn't concern him. You are my acquaintance; you call on me, not him.

LUKÉRYA. Then we on our side will observe the courtesies and will return your call. Besides, we often visit your landlady, so if it's pleasant for you to see us, you can call in there.

BABÁYEV. [_Withdrawing to one side with_ TATYÁNA] Doesn't married life bore you?

TATYÁNA. [_After a pause_] I don't know; what can I say to that?

BABÁYEV. My darling Tatyána Danílovna, be perfectly frank with me. You know what kind feelings I've always had for you.

TATYÁNA. Why should I be so frank with you? What good can come of it? It's too late to mend things now.

BABÁYEV. If you can't mend things entirely, at least, darling Tatyána Danílovna, you can sweeten your existence for a time, so that you will not be entirely smothered by the vulgar life around you.

TATYÁNA. For a time, yes! Then life will be harder than ever. BABÁYEV. Do you know, I want to move to the country; then we could be near to one another. I am even ready to move to this town, if only you----

TATYÁNA. [_Turning away_] Please don't talk to me like that! I didn't expect to hear such things from you, Valentin Pávlich.

LUKÉRYA. [_To_ BABÁYEV] You're getting in pretty deep there. I hear everything you're saying.

BABÁYEV. Lukérya Danílovna, I think some one is coming. Take a look out on the bank there. I'm anxious that we should not be seen here together.

LUKÉRYA. Oh, you're a sly gentleman! [_Goes away_.

TATYÁNA. So you will have tea with us to-morrow, Valentin Pávlich?

BABÁYEV. I really don't know--very likely.

TATYÁNA. No, don't fail to come! [_Pause_] Well, how shall I invite you? [_Takes_ BABÁYEV _by the hand_] Well, my darling! Well, my precious!

BABÁYEV. It seems to me that you have changed, Tatyána Danílovna.

TATYÁNA. I, changed! Honestly I haven't. Not a bit. Why are you so cruel to me?

BABÁYEV. Do you remember Zavetnoye, Tatyána Danílovna?

TATYÁNA. Why? I remember it all.

BABÁYEV. Do you remember the garden? Do you remember the linden walk? Do you remember how, after supper, while mother slept, we used to sit on the terrace? Do you recall the narrow ribbon?

TATYÁNA. [_In a low voice_] Which one?

BABÁYEV. With which you tied my hands.

TATYÁNA. [_Embarrassed_] Well, what of that? Yes, I remember absolutely everything.

BABÁYEV. Just that you, my precious, are now entirely different; you have met me so coldly.

TATYÁNA. Ah, Valentin Pávlich! Then I was a girl and could love any one I wished; now I am married. Just think!

BABÁYEV. Why, certainly. Yet I can't imagine you belonging to any one else. Do what you will, I can hardly control my desire to call you Tánya, as I used to.

TATYÁNA. Why control yourself? Call me Tánya.

BABÁYEV. But what's the use, my dear! You don't love me any more!

TATYÁNA. Who told you that? I love you as much, even more than before.

BABÁYEV. [_Bending towards her_] Is it possible, Tanechka, that that is the truth?

TATYÁNA. [_Kissing him_] Well, here's my evidence! _Now_ do you believe? But, darling Valentin Pávlich, if you don't wish me unhappiness for the rest of my life, we must love one another as we are doing now; but you mustn't think of more than that. Otherwise, good-by to you--away from temptation!

BABÁYEV. Set your mind at rest, darling, about that.

TATYÁNA. No, you swear to me! Swear, so that I may not fear you.

BABÁYEV. How foolish you are!

TATYÁNA. Yes, I am foolish, certainly. If I should listen to the opinions of older people, then I am committing a great wrong. According to the old law, I must love no one other than my husband. But since I can't love him--and loved you before my marriage, and can't change my heart, so I--only God preserve you from--and I won't in any respect--because I wish to live right.

BABÁYEV. Calm yourself.

TATYÁNA. That's the way, my dear Valentin Pávlich. It means that we shall now have a very pleasant love-affair, without sinning against God, or feeling shame before men.

BABÁYEV. Yes, yes, that'll be splendid!

TATYÁNA. Now I'll give you a kiss because you're so clever! [_Kisses him_] So you will come to-morrow evening?

BABÁYEV. And then you'll visit me?

TATYÁNA. Be sure to come! Then we'll visit you. Now I'm not afraid of you.

BABÁYEV. How beautiful you are! You're even lovelier than you used to be.

TATYÁNA. Let that be a secret. Good-by. Come on, Lusha!

LUKÉRYA. [_Approaching_] Good-by! Good night, pleasant dreams--of plucking roses, of watering jasmine! [_Going_] But what a man you are! Oh, oh, oh! He's clever, I must say! I just looked and wondered. [_They go out_.

BABÁYEV. Now the novel is beginning; I wonder how it'll end!