LITMIR.BIZ

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Go, I tell you! [Exit Akoulína into hut] He's bothering me to death. Won't let out where the money is, and that's all about it. He was out in the passage the other day. He must have been hiding it there. Now, I don't know myself where it is. Thank goodness he's afraid of parting with it, so that at least it will stay in the house. If only I could manage to find it. He hadn't it on him yesterday. Now I don't know where it can be. He has quite worn the life out of me.

      Enter Akoulína, tying her kerchief over her head.

      ANÍSYA. Where are you off to?

      AKOULÍNA. Where? Why, he's told me to go for Aunt Martha. “Fetch my sister,” he says. “I am going to die,” he says. “I have a word to say to her.”

      ANÍSYA [aside] Asking for his sister? Oh my poor head! Sure he wants to give it her. What shall I do? Oh! [To Akoulína] Don't go! Where are you off to?

      AKOULÍNA. To call Aunt.

      ANÍSYA. Don't go I tell you, I'll go myself. You go and take the clothes to the river to rinse. Else you'll not have finished by the evening.

      AKOULÍNA. But he told me to go.

      ANÍSYA. You go and do as you're bid. I tell you I'll fetch Martha myself. Take the shirts off the fence.

      AKOULÍNA. The shirts? But maybe you'll not go. He's given the order.

      ANÍSYA. Didn't I say I'd go? Where's Nan?

      AKOULÍNA. Nan? Minding the calves.

      ANÍSYA. Send her here. I dare say they'll not run away. [Akoulína collects the clothes, and exit].

      ANÍSYA. If one doesn't go he'll scold. If one goes he'll give the money to his sister. All my trouble will be wasted. I don't myself know what I'm to do. My poor head's splitting. [Continues to work].

      Enter Matryóna, with a stick and a bundle, in outdoor clothes.

      MATRYÓNA. May the Lord help you, honey.

      ANÍSYA [looks round, stops working, and claps her hands with joy] Well, I never expected this! Mother Matryóna, God has sent the right guest at the right time.

      MATRYÓNA. Well, how are things?

      ANÍSYA. Ah, I'm driven well-nigh crazy. It's awful!

      MATRYÓNA. Well, still alive, I hear?

      ANÍSYA. Oh, don't talk about it. He doesn't live and doesn't die!

      MATRYÓNA. But the money—has he given it to anybody?

      ANÍSYA. He's just sending for his sister Martha—probably about the money.

      MATRYÓNA. Well, naturally! But hasn't he given it to any one else?

      ANÍSYA. To no one. I watch like a hawk.

       MATRYÓNA. And where is it?

      ANÍSYA. He doesn't let out. And I can't find out in any way. He hides it now here, now there, and I can't do anything because of Akoulína. Idiot though she is, she keeps watch, and is always about. Oh my poor head! I'm bothered to death.

      MATRYÓNA. Oh, my jewel, if he gives the money to any one but you, you'll never cease regretting it as long as you live! They'll turn you out of house and home without anything. You've been worriting, and worriting all your life with one you don't love, and will have to go a-begging when you are a widow.

      ANÍSYA. No need to tell me, mother. My heart's that weary, and I don't know what to do. No one to get a bit of advice from. I told Nikíta, but he's frightened of the job. The only thing he did was to tell me yesterday it was hidden under the floor.

      MATRYÓNA. Well, and did you look there?

      ANÍSYA. I couldn't. The old man himself was in the room. I notice that sometimes he carries it about on him, and sometimes he hides it.

      MATRYÓNA. But you, my lass, must remember that if once he gives you the slip there's no getting it right again! [Whispering] Well, and did you give him the strong tea?

      ANÍSYA. Oh! oh!… [About to answer, but sees neighbour and stops].

      The neighbour (a woman) passes the hut, and listens to a call from within.

      NEIGHBOUR [to Anísya] I say, Anísya! Eh, Anísya! There's your old man calling, I think.

      ANÍSYA. That's the way he always coughs,—just as if he were screaming. He's getting very bad.

      NEIGHBOUR [approaches Matryóna] How do you do, granny? Have you come far?

      MATRYÓNA. Straight from home, dear. Come to see my son. Brought him some shirts—can't help thinking of these things, you see, when it's one's own child.

      NEIGHBOUR. Yes, that's always so. [To Anísya] And I was thinking of beginning to bleach the linen, but it is a bit early, no one has begun yet.

      ANÍSYA. Where's the hurry?

      MATRYÓNA. Well, and has he had communion?

      ANÍSYA. Oh dear yes, the priest was here yesterday.

      NEIGHBOUR. I had a look at him yesterday. Dearie me! one wonders his body and soul keep together. And, O Lord, the other day he seemed just at his last gasp, so that they laid him under the holy icóns.[1] They started lamenting and got ready to lay him out.

      ANÍSYA. He came to, and creeps about again.

      MATRYÓNA. Well, and is he to have extreme unction?

      ANÍSYA. The neighbours advise it. If he lives till to-morrow we'll send for the priest.

      NEIGHBOUR. Oh, Anísya dear, I should think your heart must be heavy. As the saying goes, “Not he is sick that's ill in bed, but he that sits and waits in dread.”

      ANÍSYA. Yes, if it were only over one way or other!

      NEIGHBOUR. Yes, that's true, dying for a year, it's no joke. You're bound hand and foot like that.

      MATRYÓNA. Ah, but a widow's lot is also bitter. It's all right as long as one's young, but who'll care for you when you're old? Oh yes, old age is not pleasure. Just look at me. I've not walked very far, and yet am so footsore I don't know how to stand. Where's my son?

      ANÍSYA. Ploughing. But you come in and we'll get the samovár ready; the tea'll set you up again.

      MATRYÓNA [sitting down] Yes, it's true, I'm quite done up, my dears. As to extreme unction, that's absolutely necessary. Besides, they say it's good for the soul.

      ANÍSYA. Yes, we'll send to-morrow.

       MATRYÓNA. Yes, you had better. And we've had a wedding down in our parts.

      NEIGHBOUR. What, in spring?[2]

      MATRYÓNA. Ah, now if it were a poor man, then, as the saying is, it's always unseasonable for a poor man to marry. But it's Simon Matvéyitch, he's married that Marína.

      ANÍSYA. What luck for her!

      NEIGHBOUR. He's a widower. I suppose there are children?

      MATRYÓNA. Four of 'em. What decent girl would have him! Well, so he's taken her, and she's glad. You see, the vessel was not sound, so the wine trickled out.

      NEIGHBOUR. Oh my! And what do people say to it? And he, a rich peasant!

      MATRYÓNA. They are living well enough so far.

      NEIGHBOUR. Yes, it's true enough. Who wants to marry where there are children? There now, there's our Michael. He's such a fellow, dear me …

      PEASANT'S VOICE. Hullo, Mávra. Where the devil are you? Go and drive the cow in.

      Exit Neighbour.

      MATRYÓNA [while the Neighbour is within hearing speaks in her ordinary voice] Yes, lass, thank goodness, she's married. At any rate my old fool won't go bothering about Nikíta. Now [suddenly changing her tone],

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