LITMIR.BIZ

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I have no right to drag another down with me. My melancholy robbed my wife of the last year of her life. Since you have been engaged to me you have forgotten how to laugh and have aged five years. Your father, to whom life was always simple and clear, thanks to me, is now unable to understand anybody. Wherever I go, whether hunting or visiting, it makes no difference, I carry depression, dulness, and discontent along with me. Wait! Don’t interrupt me! I am bitter and harsh, I know, but I am stifled with rage. I cannot speak otherwise. I have never lied, and I never used to find fault with my lot, but since I have begun to complain of everything, I find fault with it involuntarily, and against my will. When I murmur at my fate every one who hears me is seized with the same disgust of life and begins to grumble too. And what a strange way I have of looking at things! Exactly as if I were doing the world a favour by living in it. Oh, I am contemptible.

      SASHA. Wait a moment. From what you have just said, it is obvious that you are tired of your melancholy mood, and that the time has come for you to begin life afresh. How splendid!

      IVANOFF. I don’t see anything splendid about it. How can I lead a new life? I am lost forever. It is time we both understood that. A new life indeed!

      SASHA. Nicholas, come to your senses. How can you say you are lost? What do you mean by such cynicism? No, I won’t listen to you or talk with you. Go to the church!

      IVANOFF. I am lost!

      SASHA. Don’t talk so loud; our guests will hear you!

      IVANOFF. If an intelligent, educated, and healthy man begins to complain of his lot and go downhill, there is nothing for him to do but to go on down until he reaches the bottom — there is no hope for him. Where could my salvation come from? How can I save myself? I cannot drink, because it makes my head ache. I never could write bad poetry. I cannot pray for strength and see anything lofty in the languor of my soul. Laziness is laziness and weakness weakness. I can find no other names for them. I am lost, I am lost; there is no doubt of that. [Looking around] Some one might come in; listen, Sasha, if you love me you must help me. Renounce me this minute; quickly!

      SASHA. Oh, Nicholas! If you only knew how you are torturing me; what agony I have to endure for your sake! Good thoughtful friend, judge for yourself; can I possibly solve such a problem? Each day you put some horrible problem before me, each one more difficult than the last. I wanted to help you with my love, but this is martyrdom!

      IVANOFF. And when you are my wife the problems will be harder than ever. Understand this: it is not love that is urging you to take this step, but the obstinacy of an honest nature. You have undertaken to reawaken the man in me and to save me in the face of every difficulty, and you are flattered by the hope of achieving your object. You are willing to give up now, but you are prevented from doing it by a feeling that is a false one. Understand yourself!

      SASHA. What strange, wild reasoning! How can I give you up now? How can I? You have no mother, or sister, or friends. You are ruined; your estate has been destroyed; every one is speaking ill of you —

      IVANOFF. It was foolish of me to come here; I should have done as I wanted to —

      Enter LEBEDIEFF.

      SASHA. [Running to her father] Father! He has rushed over here like a madman, and is torturing me! He insists that I should refuse to marry him; he says he doesn’t want to drag me down with him. Tell him that I won’t accept his generosity. I know what I am doing!

      LEBEDIEFF. I can’t understand a word of what you are saying. What generosity?

      IVANOFF. This marriage is not going to take place.

      SASHA. It is going to take place. Papa, tell him that it is going to take place.

      LEBEDIEFF. Wait! Wait! What objection have you to the marriage?

      IVANOFF. I have explained it all to her, but she refuses to understand me.

      LEBEDIEFF. Don’t explain it to her, but to me, and explain it so that I may understand. God forgive you, Nicholas, you have brought a great deal of darkness into our lives. I feel as if I were living in a museum; I look about me and don’t understand anything I see. This is torture. What on earth can an old man like me do with you? Shall I challenge you to a duel?

      IVANOFF. There is no need of a duel. All you need is a head on your shoulders and a knowledge of the Russian language.

      SASHA. [Walks up and down in great excitement] This is dreadful, dreadful! Absolutely childish.

      LEBEDIEFF. Listen to me, Nicholas; from your point of view what you are doing is quite right and proper, according to the rules of psychology, but I think this affair is a scandal and a great misfortune. I am an old man; hear me out for the last time. This is what I want to say to you: calm yourself; look at things simply, as every one else does; this is a simple world. The ceiling is white; your boots are black; sugar is sweet. You love Sasha and she loves you. If you love her, stay with her; if you don’t, leave her. We shan’t blame you. It is all perfectly simple. You are two healthy, intelligent, moral young people; thank God, you both have food and clothing — what more do you want? What if you have no money? That is no great misfortune — happiness is not bought with wealth. Of course your estate is mortgaged, Nicholas, as I know, and you have no money to pay the interest on the debt, but I am Sasha’s father. I understand. Her mother can do as she likes — if she won’t give any money, why, confound her, then she needn’t, that’s all! Sasha has just said that she does not want her part of it. As for your principles, Schopenhauer and all that, it is all folly. I have one hundred thousand roubles in the bank. [Looking around him] Not a soul in the house knows it; it was my grandmother’s money. That shall be for you both. Take it, give Matthew two thousand —

      [The guests begin to collect in the ballroom].

      IVANOFF. It is no use discussing it any more, I must act as my conscience bids me.

      SASHA. And I shall act as my conscience bids me — you may say what you please; I refuse to let you go! I am going to call my mother.

      LEBEDIEFF. I am utterly puzzled.

      IVANOFF. Listen to me, poor old friend. I shall not try to explain myself to you. I shall not tell you whether I am honest or a rascal, healthy or mad; you wouldn’t understand me. I was young once; I have been eager and sincere and intelligent. I have loved and hated and believed as no one else has. I have worked and hoped and tilted against windmills with the strength of ten — not sparing my strength, not knowing what life was. I shouldered a load that broke my back. I drank, I worked, I excited myself, my energy knew no bounds. Tell me, could I have done otherwise? There are so few of us and so much to do, so much to do! And see how cruelly fate has revenged herself on me, who fought with her so bravely! I am a broken man. I am old at thirty. I have submitted myself to old age. With a heavy head and a sluggish mind, weary, used up, discouraged, without faith or love or an object in life, I wander like a shadow among other men, not knowing why I am alive or what it is that I want. Love seems to me to be folly, caresses false. I see no sense in working or playing, and all passionate speeches seem insipid and tiresome. So I carry my sadness with me wherever I go; a cold weariness, a discontent, a horror of life. Yes, I am lost for ever and ever. Before you stands a man who at thirty-five is disillusioned, wearied by fruitless efforts, burning with shame, and mocking at his own weakness. Oh, how my pride rebels against it all! What mad fury chokes me! [He staggers] I am staggering — my strength is failing me. Where is Matthew? Let him take me home.

      [Voices from the ballroom] The best man has arrived!

      Enter SHABELSKI.

      SHABELSKI. In an old worn-out coat — without gloves! How many scornful glances I get for it! Such silly jokes and vulgar grins! Disgusting people.

      Enter BORKIN quickly. He is carrying a bunch of flowers and is in a dress-coat. He wears a flower in his buttonhole.

      BORKIN. This is dreadful! Where is he? [To IVANOFF] They have been waiting for you for a long time in the church, and here you are talking philosophy! What a funny chap you are. Don’t you know you must not go to church with the bride, but alone, with me? I shall then come back for her. Is it possible you have not understood that? You certainly are

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