The Complete Works of Leo Tolstoy (25+ Works with active table of contents) (440 page)

ANÍSYA (laughs and pulls him by the arm). Tchilíkin. Dear me, what airs!

 

NIKÍTA. Ah, that's it. (Holds on to the door-post.) No, now say with which foot Tchilíkin steps into this house!

 

ANÍSYA. That's enough! You're letting the cold in!

 

NIKÍTA. Say with which foot he steps? You've got to say it,--that's flat.

 

ANÍSYA (aside). He'll go on worrying. (To NIKÍTA.) Well then, with the left. Come in!

 

NIKÍTA. Ah, that's it.

 

ANÍSYA. You look who's in the hut!

 

NIKÍTA. Ah, my parent! Well, what of that? I'm not ashamed of my parent. I can pay my respects to my parent. How d'you do, father? (Bows and puts out his hand.) My respects to you.

 

AKÍM (does not answer). Drink, I mean drink, what it does! It's filthy!

 

NIKÍTA. Drink, what's that? I've been drinking? I'm to blame, that's flat! I've had a glass with a friend, drank his health.

 

ANÍSYA. Go and lie down, I say.

 

NIKÍTA. Wife, say where am I standing?

 

ANÍSYA. Now then, it's all right, lie down!

 

NIKÍTA. No, I'll first drink a samovár with my parent. Go and light the samovár. Akoulína, I say, come here!

 

[Enter AKOULÍNA, smartly dressed and carrying their purchases.

 

AKOULÍNA. Why have you thrown everything about? Where's the yarn?

 

NIKÍTA. The yarn? The yarn's there. Hullo, Mítritch, where are you? Asleep? Asleep? Go and put the horse up.

 

AKÍM (not seeing AKOULÍNA but looking at his son). Dear me, what is he doing? The old man's what d'ye call it, quite done up, I mean,--been thrashing,--and look at him, what d'ye call it, putting on airs! Put up the horse! Faugh, what filth!

 

MÍTRITCH (climbs down from the oven, and puts on felt boots). Oh, merciful Lord! Is the horse in the yard? Done it to death, I dare say. Just see how he's been swilling, the deuce take him. Up to his very throat. Oh Lord, Holy Nicholas!

 

[Puts on sheepskin and exit.

 

NIKÍTA (sits down). You must forgive me, father. It's true I've had a drop; well, what of that? Even a hen will drink. Ain't it true? So you must forgive me. Never mind Mítritch, he doesn't mind, he'll put it up.

 

ANÍSYA. Shall I really light the samovár?

 

NIKÍTA. Light it! My parent has come. I wish to talk to him, and shall drink tea with him. (To AKOULÍNA.) Have you brought all the parcels?

 

AKOULÍNA. The parcels? I've brought mine, the rest's in the sledge. Hi, take this, this isn't mine!

 

[Throws a parcel on the table and puts the others into her box. NAN watches her while she puts them away. AKÍM does not look at his son, but puts his leg-bands and bast-shoes on the oven.

 

ANÍSYA (going out with the samovár). Her box is full as it is, and still he's bought more!

 

NIKÍTA (pretending to be sober). You must not be cross with me, father. You think I'm drunk? I am all there, that's flat! As they say, "Drink, but keep your wits about you." I can talk with you at once, father. I can attend to any business. You told me about the money; your horse is worn-out,--I remember! That can all be managed. That's all in our hands. If it was an enormous sum that's wanted, then we might wait; but as it is I can do everything. That's the case.

 

AKÍM (goes on fidgeting with the leg-bands). Eh, lad, "It's ill sledging when the thaw has set in."

 

NIKÍTA. What do you mean by that? "And it's ill talking with one who is drunk?" But don't you worry, let's have some tea. And I can do anything; that's flat! I can put everything to rights.

 

AKÍM (shakes his head). Eh, eh, eh!

 

NIKÍTA. The money, here it is. (Puts his hand in his pocket, pulls out pocket-book, handles the notes in it and takes out a ten-rouble note.) Take this to get a horse; I can't forget my parent. I shan't forsake him, that's flat. Because he's my parent! Here you are, take it! Really now, I don't grudge it. (Comes up and pushes the note towards AKÍM, who won't take it. NIKÍTA catches hold of his father's hand.) Take it, I tell you. I don't grudge it.

 

AKÍM. I can't what d'you call it, I mean, can't take it! And can't what d'ye call it, talk to you, because you're not yourself, I mean.

 

NIKÍTA. I'll not let you go! Take it!

 

[Puts the money into AKÍM'S hand.

 

ANÍSYA (enters, and stops). You'd better take it, he'll give you no peace!

 

AKÍM (takes it, and shakes his head). Oh! that liquor. Not like a man, I mean!

 

NIKÍTA. That's better! If you repay it you'll repay it, if not I'll make no bother. That's what I am! (Sees AKOULÍNA.) Akoulína, show your presents.

 

AKOULÍNA. What?

 

NIKÍTA. Show your presents.

 

AKOULÍNA. The presents, what's the use of showing 'em? I've put 'em away.

 

NIKÍTA. Get them, I tell you. Nan will like to see 'em. Undo the shawl. Give it here.

 

AKÍM. Oh, oh! It's sickening!

 

[Climbs on the oven.

 

AKOULÍNA (gets out the parcels and puts them on the table). Well, there you are,--what's the good of looking at 'em?

 

NAN. Oh how lovely! It's as good as Stepanída's.

 

AKOULÍNA. Stepanída's? What's Stepanída's compared to this? (Brightening up and undoing the parcels.) Just look here,--see the quality! It's a French one.

 

NAN. The print is fine! Mary has a dress like it, only lighter on a blue ground. This is pretty.

 

NIKÍTA. Ah, that's it!

 

[ANÍSYA passes angrily into the closet, returns with a tablecloth and the chimney of the Samovár, and goes up to the table.

 

ANÍSYA. Drat you, littering the table!

 

NIKÍTA. You look here!

 

ANÍSYA. What am I to look at? Have I never seen anything? Put it away!

 

[Sweeps the shawl on to the floor with her arm.

 

AKOULÍNA. What are you pitching things down for? You pitch your own things about!

 

[Picks up the shawl.

 

NIKÍTA. Anísya! Look here!

 

ANÍSYA. Why am I to look?

 

NIKÍTA. You think I have forgotten you? Look here! (Shows her a parcel and sits down on it.) It's a present for you. Only you must earn it! Wife, where am I sitting?

 

ANÍSYA. Enough of your humbug. I'm not afraid of you. Whose money are you spreeing on and buying your fat wench presents with? Mine!

 

AKOULÍNA. Yours indeed? No fear! You wished to steal it, but it did not come off! Get out of the way!

 

[Pushes her while trying to pass.

 

ANÍSYA. What are you shoving for? I'll teach you to shove!

 

AKOULÍNA. Shove me? You try!

 

[Presses against ANÍSYA.

 

NIKÍTA. Now then, now then, you women. Have done now!

 

[Steps between them.

 

AKOULÍNA. Comes shoving herself in! You ought to keep quiet and remember your doings! You think no one knows!

 

ANÍSYA. Knows what? Out with it, out with it! What do they know?

 

AKOULÍNA. I know something about you!

 

ANÍSYA. You're a slut who goes with another's husband!

 

AKOULÍNA. And you did yours to death!

 

ANÍSYA (throwing herself on AKOULÍNA). You're raving!

 

NIKÍTA (holding her back). Anísya, you seem to have forgotten!

 

ANÍSYA. Want to frighten me! I'm not afraid of you!

 

NIKÍTA (turns ANÍSYA round and pushes her out). Be off!

 

ANÍSYA. Where am I to go? I'll not go out of my own house!

 

NIKÍTA. Be off, I tell you, and don't dare to come in here!

 

ANÍSYA. I won't go! (NIKÍTA pushes her, ANÍSYA cries and screams and clings to the door.) What! am I to be turned out of my own house by the scruff of the neck? What are you doing, you scoundrel? Do you think there's no law for you? You wait a bit!

 

NIKÍTA. Now then!

 

ANÍSYA. I'll go to the Elder! To the policeman!

 

NIKÍTA. Off, I tell you!

 

[Pushes her out.

 

ANÍSYA (behind the door). I'll hang myself!

 

NIKÍTA. No fear!

 

NAN. Oh, oh, oh! Mother, dear, darling!

 

[Cries.

 

NIKÍTA. Me frightened of her! A likely thing! What are you crying for? She'll come back, no fear. Go and see to the samovár.

 

[Exit NAN.

 

AKOULÍNA (collects and folds her presents). The mean wretch, how she's messed it up. But wait a bit, I'll cut up her jacket for her! Sure I will!

 

NIKÍTA. I've turned her out; what more do you want?

 

AKOULÍNA. She's dirtied my new shawl. If that bitch hadn't gone away, I'd have torn her eyes out!

 

NIKÍTA. That's enough. Why should you be angry? Now if I loved her....

 

AKOULÍNA. Loved her? She's worth loving, with her fat mug! If you'd have given her up, then nothing would have happened. You should have sent her to the devil. And the house was mine all the same, and the money was mine! Says she is the mistress, but what sort of mistress is she to her husband? She's a murderess, that's what she is! She'll serve you the same way!

 

NIKÍTA. Oh dear, how's one to stop a woman's jaw? You don't yourself know what you're jabbering about!

 

AKOULÍNA. Yes, I do. I'll not live with her! I'll turn her out of the house! She can't live here with me. The mistress indeed! She's not the mistress,--that jailbird!

 

NIKÍTA. That's enough! What have you to do with her? Don't mind her. You look at me! I am the master! I do as I like. I've ceased to love her, and now I love you. I love who I like! The power is mine, she's under me. That's where I keep her. (Points to his feet.) A pity we've no concertina.

 

[Sings.

 

"We have loaves on the stoves, We have porridge on the shelf. So we'll live and be gay, Making merry every day, And when death comes, Then we'll die! We have loaves on the stoves, We have porridge on the shelf...."

 

[Enter MÍTRITCH. He takes off his outdoor things and climbs on the oven.

 

MÍTRITCH. Seems the women have been fighting again! Tearing each other's hair. Oh Lord, gracious Nicholas!

 

AKÍM. (sitting on the edge of the oven, takes his leg-bands and shoes and begins putting them on). Get in, get into the corner.

 

MÍTRITCH. Seems they can't settle matters between them. Oh Lord!

 

NIKÍTA. Get out the liquor, we'll have some with our tea.

 

NAN (to AKOULÍNA). Sister, the samovár is just boiling over.

 

NIKÍTA. And where's your mother?

 

NAN. She's standing and crying out there in the passage.

 

NIKÍTA. Oh, that's it! Call her, and tell her to bring the samovár. And you, Akoulína, get the tea things.

 

AKOULÍNA. The tea things? All right.

 

[Brings the things.

 

NIKÍTA (unpacks spirits, rusks, and salt herrings). That's for myself. This is yarn for the wife. The paraffin is out there in the passage, and here's the money. Wait a bit (takes a counting-frame); I'll add it up. (Adds.) Wheat-flour, 80 kopeykas, oil ... Father, 10 roubles ... Father, come let's have some tea!

 

[Silence. AKÍM sits on the oven and winds the bands round his legs. Enter ANÍSYA with samovár.

 

ANÍSYA. Where shall I put it?

 

NIKÍTA. Here on the table. Well! have you been to the Elder? Ah, that's it! Have your say and then eat your words. Now then, that's enough. Don't be cross; sit down and drink this. (Fills a wine-glass for her.) And here's your present.

 

[Gives her the parcel he had been sitting on. ANÍSYA takes it silently and shakes her head.

 

AKÍM (gets down and puts on his sheepskin, then comes up to the table and puts down the money). Here, take your money back! Put it away.

 

NIKÍTA (does not see the money). Why have you put on your things?

 

AKÍM. I'm going, going, I mean; forgive me, for the Lord's sake.

 

[Takes up his cap and belt.

 

NIKÍTA. My gracious! Where are you going to at this time of night?

 

AKÍM. I can't, I mean what d'ye call 'em, in your house, what d'ye call 'em, can't stay I mean, stay, can't stay, forgive me.

 

NIKÍTA. But are you going without having any tea?

 

AKÍM (fastens his belt). Going because, I mean, it's not right in your house, I mean, what d'you call it, not right, Nikíta, in the house, what d'ye call it, not right! I mean, you are living a bad life, Nikíta, bad,--I'll go.

 

NIKÍTA. Eh, now! Have done talking! Sit down and drink your tea!

 

ANÍSYA. Why, father, you'll shame us before the neighbors. What has offended you?

 

AKÍM. Nothing what d'ye call it, nothing has offended me, nothing at all! I mean only, I see, what d'you call it, I mean, I see my son, to ruin, I mean, to ruin, I mean my son's on the road to ruin, I mean.

Other books

A Lady at Last by Brenda Joyce
The Best Place on Earth by Ayelet Tsabari
A Vulnerable Broken Mind by Gaetano Brown
That Liverpool Girl by Hamilton, Ruth
The Man Who Killed His Brother by Donaldson, Stephen R.
Death Rhythm by Joel Arnold
Cold Winter in Bordeaux by Allan Massie