Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays - Various

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she starve herself to save up another 100 roubles she will be dead before she has got it; her money will be sent back to her village or it will go into the pocket of some official, and you will not have the tomb-house to build at all.

      Spir. I have thought of all these things, Astéryi Ivanovitch, since you last spoke to me about it. And I said to myself: Astéryi Ivanovitch is perhaps right; it is not only Praskóvya Petróvna who is old; I myself am old also, and may die before she has saved up money enough. But it is very hard to work and be underpaid. Good Valdai stone is expensive and hard to cut, and workmen nowadays ask for unholy wages. Still, I said to myself, a tomb-house for her son—it is a God-fearing work: and I have resolved to make the sacrifice. I have come to tell her I will consent to build it for 400 roubles.

      Ast. You have done rightly. You are an honest man, and God and St. Nicholas will perhaps save your soul.

      [Enter Fomá in cap and great-coat from the door to the lodgers' rooms.]

      Fomá. Good-evening, Astéryi Ivanovitch. Is Praskóvya not at home?

      Ast. No, she is at Vespers.

      Fomá. I come in and find my stove smoking. [Taking of his coat.] I wished to ask her permission to sit here awhile to escape a headache. Who is this? Ah, Spiridón. And by what miracle does Astéryi Ivanovitch hope that God and St. Nicholas will save your soul?

      Ast. He has consented to build Praskóvya Petróvna the tomb-house over Sasha's grave for 400 roubles instead of 500.

      Fomá. That is good! She will be glad to hear the news, and shake hands on the bargain, and christen the earnest-money with vodka.

      Spir. The earnest-money? Ah no, sir, there can be no earnest-money. The whole sum of money must be paid at once. I am a poor man. I must pay the quarryman for the stone; my workmen cannot live on air.

      Ast. If she has the money she will pay you.

      Fomá. Well, if there is to be no earnest-money, at least we will have the vodka. Vodka is always good.

      Ast. [to Spiridón]. Sit down and wait till she returns. She will not be long.

      Spir. No, no; I will come again in an hour. I have to go to my brother-in-law two streets away. [Crossing himself before the eikons.] I will come again as I return.

      [The tap of drums in the street.]

      Ast. Why are they beating drums?

      Fomá. It is a patrol passing.

      Spir. The soldiers are very watchful to-day.

      Fomá. It is because the Empress comes this way to-morrow on her journey to Smolensk.

      Spir. They have arrested many suspicious people. All those who have no passports are being sent away to Siberia.

      Fomá. Ah! poor creatures! [A patrol of soldiers passes the window quietly].

      Spir. Why should you say "poor creatures"? If they were honest men they would not be without passports. Good-evening.

      Fomá. Wait till they have gone.

      Spir. We honest men have nothing to fear from them. Good-evening. I will return again in an hour. [Exit Spiridón.]

      Fomá. How glad Praskóvya will be.

      Ast. Say nothing of this to any one. We will keep it as a surprise.

      [Enter Varvára.]

      Fomá. Varvára, my pretty child, fetch the bottle of vodka from my room.

      Var. Vodka in here? Praskóvya Petróvna will be angry.

      Fomá. No, she will not be angry; she will be glad. [Exit Varvára.] Do you play patience here every night?

      Ast. Every night for more than twenty years.

      Fomá. What is it called?

      Ast. It is called the Wolf!

      Fomá. Does it ever come out?

      Ast. It has come out twice. The first time I found a purse in the street which somebody had lost. The second time the man above me at the office died, and I got his place.

      Fomá. It brings good luck then?

      Ast. To me at least.

      Fomá. How glad Praskóvya Petróvna will be!

      [Enter Varvára with vodka bottle, which she sets on a table; no one drinks from it yet.]

      Var. Do you not want to drink tea?

      Fomá. Very much, you rogue.

      Var. Then I will set the samovar for both of you in here. [She gets out tumblers, lemon and sugar.]

      Ast. I did wrong in moving the seven.

      Fomá. Put it back then.

      Ast. It is too late. Once it has been moved, it must not be put back.

      [Enter Praskóvya from the street hurriedly with a lantern.]

      Pras. [crossing herself]. Hóspodi Bózhe moy!

      Var. [running to her, frightened]. Have you seen him again?

      Pras. [agitated]. I do not know. There seemed to be men standing everywhere in the shadows.... Good-evening, Fomá Ilyitch, good-evening, Astéryi Ivanovitch.

      [Varvára goes out, and brings in the samovar.]

      Fomá. I have been making myself at home; my stove smoked.

      Pras. Sit down, sit down! What ceremony! Why should you not be here? And vodka too? What is the vodka for?

      Ast. I will tell you when I have finished my patience. [They all drink tea.]

      Pras. So you are playing already.

      Ast. If it comes out, the good luck that it brings shall be for you!

      Pras. For me? [They all watch Astéryi playing.] The knave goes on the queen. [A pause.]

      Fomá. That is unfortunate.

      Var. You should not have moved the ten. [A pause.]

      Ast. That will be better. [A pause.]

      Pras. How brightly the eikon lamp burns before the portrait of my boy.

      Var. It does indeed.

      Pras. It is the new fire from the Candlemas taper.

      Fomá. It is the new oil that makes it burn brightly.

      Pras. [crossing herself]. Nonsense! it is the new fire.

      Fomá. Did ever one hear such stuff? She put out the lamp at Candlemas, and lighted it anew from the taper which she brought home from the midnight service, from the new fire struck by the priest with flint and steel; and now she thinks that is the reason why it burns so brightly.

      Var. Is that not so then, Astéryi Ivanovitch?

      Ast. Oh, Fomá Ilyitch is a chemist; he can tell you what fire is made of.

      Fomá. So you have been all the way to St. Pantaléimon's in the Marsh? Oh, piety, thy name is Praskóvya Petróvna! Not a person can hold the most miserably little service in the remotest corner of the town but you smell it out and go to it.

      Var. It is a Christian deed, Fomá Ilyitch.

      Ast. Now I can get at the ace.

      Var. [to Praskóvya]. I must get your supper. [She gets a plate of meat from a cupboard.]

      Fomá. And on All Souls' Day she brought home holy water in a bottle and sprinkled the rooms of all the lodgers. The schoolmaster was very angry. You spotted the cover of his Greek Lexicon. He says it is a pagan custom, come down to us from the

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