LITMIR.BIZ

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strikes. Conspirators form a semicircle in the middle of the stage.) President. What is the word?

      First Consp. Nabat.

      Pres. The answer?

      Second Consp. Kalit.

      Pres. What hour is it?

      Third Consp. The hour to suffer.

      Pres. What day?

      Fourth Consp. The day of oppression.

      Pres. What year?

      Fifth Consp. Since the Revolution of France, the ninth year.

      Pres. How many are we in number?

      Sixth Consp. Ten, nine, and three.

      Pres. The Galilæan had less to conquer the world; but what is our mission?

      Seventh Consp. To give freedom.

      Pres. Our creed?

      Eighth Consp. To annihilate.

      Pres. Our duty?

      Ninth Consp. To obey.

      Pres. Brothers, the questions have been answered well. There are none but Nihilists present. Let us see each other’s faces. (The Conspirators unmask.) Michael, recite the oath.

      Michael. To strangle whatever nature is in us; neither to love nor to be loved, neither to pity nor to be pitied, neither to marry nor to be given in marriage, till the end is come; to stab secretly by night; to drop poison in the glass; to set father against son, and husband against wife; without fear, without hope, without future, to suffer, to annihilate, to revenge.

      Pres. Are we all agreed?

      Conspirators. We are all agreed. (They disperse in various directions about the stage.)

      Pres. ‘Tis after the hour, Michael, and she is not yet here.

      Mich. Would that she were! We can do little without her.

      Alexis. She cannot have been seized, President? but the police are on her track, I know.

      Mich. You always seem to know a good deal about the movements of the police in Moscow — too much for an honest conspirator.

      Pres. If those dogs have caught her, the red flag of the people will float on a barricade in every street till we find her! It was foolish of her to go to the Grand Duke’s ball. I told her so, but she said she wanted to see the Czar and all his cursed brood face to face once.

      Alexis. Gone to the State ball?

      Mich. I have no fear. She is as hard to capture as a she-wolf is, and twice as dangerous; besides, she is well disguised. But is there any news from the Palace tonight, President? What is that bloody despot doing now besides torturing his only son? Have any of you seen him? One hears strange stories about him. They say he loves the people; but a king’s son never does that. You cannot breed them like that.

      Pres. Since he came back from abroad a year ago his father has kept him in close prison in his palace.

      Mich. An excellent training to make him a tyrant in his turn; but is there any news, I say?

      Pres. A council is to be held tomorrow, at four o’clock, on some secret business the spies cannot find out.

      Mich. A council in a king’s palace is sure to be about some bloody work or other. But in what room is this council to be held?

      Pres. (reading from letter). In the yellow tapestry room called after the Empress Catherine.

      Mich. I care not for such long-sounding names. I would know where it is.

      Pres. I cannot tell, Michael. I know more about the insides of prisons than of palaces.

      Mich. (speaking suddenly to Alexis). Where is this room, Alexis?

      Alexis. It is on the first floor, looking out on to the inner courtyard. But why do you ask, Michael?

      Mich. Nothing, nothing, boy! I merely take a great interest in the Czar’s life and movements, and I knew you could tell me all about the palace. Every poor student of medicine in Moscow knows all about king’s houses. It is their duty, is it not?

      Alexis (aside). Can Michael suspect me? There is something strange in his manner tonight. Why doesn’t she come? The whole fire of revolution seems fallen into dull ashes when she is not here.

      Mich. Have you cured many patients lately, at your hospital, boy?

      Alex. There is one who lies sick to death I would fain cure, but cannot.

      Mich. Ay, and who is that?

      Alex. Russia, our mother.

      Mich. The curing of Russia is surgeon’s business, and must be done by the knife. I like not your method of medicine.

      Pres. Professor, we have read the proofs of your last article; it is very good indeed.

      Mich. What is it about, Professor?

      Professor. The subject, my good brother, is assassination considered as a method of political reform.

      Mich. I think little of pen and ink in revolutions. One dagger will do more than a hundred epigrams. Still, let us read this scholar’s last production. Give it to me. I will read it myself.

      Prof. Brother, you never mind your stops; let Alexis read it.

      Mich. Ay! he is as tripping of speech as if he were some young aristocrat; but for my own part I care not for the stops so that the sense be plain.

      Alex. (reading). “The past has belonged to the tyrant, and he has defiled it; ours is the future, and we shall make it holy.” Ay! let us make the future holy; let there be one revolution at least which is not bred in crime, nurtured in murder!

      Mich. They have spoken to us by the sword, and by the sword we shall answer! You are too delicate for us, Alexis. There should be none here but men whose hands are rough with labour or red with blood.

      Pres. Peace, Michael, peace! He is the bravest heart among us.

      Mich. (aside). He will need to be brave tonight.

      (The sound of sleigh bells is heard outside.)

      Voice (outside). Per crucem ad lucem.

      Answer of man on guard. Per sanguinem ad libertatem.

      Mich. Who is that?

      Vera. God save the people!

      Pres. Welcome, Vera, welcome! We have been sick at heart till we saw you; but now methinks the star of freedom has come to wake us from the night.

      Vera. It is night, indeed, brother! Night without moon or star! Russia is smitten to the heart! The man Ivan whom men call the Czar strikes now at our mother with a dagger deadlier than ever forged by tyranny against a people’s life!

      Mich. What has the tyrant done now?

      Vera. Tomorrow martial law is to be proclaimed in Russia.

      Omnes. Martial law! We are lost! We are lost!

      Alex. Martial law! Impossible!

      Mich. Fool, nothing is impossible in Russia but reform.

      Vera. Ay, martial law. The last right to which the people clung has been taken from them. Without trial, without appeal, without accuser even, our brothers will be taken from their houses, shot in the streets like dogs, sent away to die in the snow, to starve in the dungeon, to rot in the mine. Do you know what martial law means? It means the strangling of a whole nation. The streets will be filled with soldiers night and day; there will be sentinels at every door. No man dare walk abroad now but the spy or the traitor. Cooped up in the dens we hide in, meeting by stealth, speaking with bated breath; what good can we do now for Russia?

      Pres. We can suffer at least.

      Vera. We have done that too much already. The hour is now come to annihilate and to revenge.

      Pres.

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