Part 4

NATASHA. It's best for her to be dead--yet it's a pity . . . oh, Lord--why do we live?

BUBNOFF. It's so with all . . . we're born, live, and die--and I'll die, too--and so'll you--what's there to be gloomy about?

[_Enter Luka, the Tartar, Zob, and Kleshtch. The latter comes after the others, slowly, shrunk up._]

NATASHA. Sh-sh! Anna!

ZOB. We've heard--God rest her soul . . .

THE TARTAR [_to Kleshtch_] We must take her out of here. Out into the hall! This is no place for corpses--but for the living . . .

KLESHTCH [_quietly_] We'll take her out--

[_Everybody goes to the bed, Kleshtch looks at his wife ever the others' shoulders._]

ZOB [_to the Tartar_] You think she'll smell? I don't think she will--she dried up while she was still alive . . .

NATASHA. God! If they'd only a little pity . . . if only some one would say a kindly word--oh, you . . .

LUKA. Don't be hurt, girl--never mind! Why and how should we pity the dead? Come, dear! We don't pity the living--we can't even pity our own selves--how can we?

BUBNOFF [_yawning_] And, besides, when you're dead, no word will help you--when you're still alive, even sick, it may. . . .

THE TARTAR [_stepping aside_] The police must be notified . . .

ZOB. The police--must be done! Kleshtch! Did you notify the police?

KLESHTCH. No--she's got to be buried--and all I have is forty kopecks--

ZOB. Well--you'll have to borrow then--otherwise we'll take up a collection . . . one'll give five kopecks, others as much as they can. But the police must be notified at once--or they'll think you killed her or God knows what not . . .

[_Crosses to the Tartar's bunk and prepares to lie down by his side._]

NATASHA [_going to Bubnoff's bunk_] Now--I'll dream of her . . . I always dream of the dead . . . I'm afraid to go out into the hall by myself--it's dark there . . .

LUKA [_following her_] You better fear the living--I'm telling you . . .

NATASHA. Take me across the hall, grandfather.

LUKA. Come on--come on--I'll take you across--

[_They go away. Pause._]

ZOB [_to the Tartar_] Oh-ho! Spring will soon be here, little brother, and it'll be quite warm. In the villages the peasants are already making ready their ploughs and harrows, preparing to till . . . and we . . . Hassan? Snoring already? Damned Mohammedan!

BUBNOFF. Tartars love sleep!

KLESHTCH [_in centre of room, staring in front of him_] What am I to do now?

ZOB. Lie down and sleep--that's all . . .

KLESHTCH [_softly_] But--she . . . how about . . .

[_No one answers him. Satine and the Actor enter._]

THE ACTOR [_yelling_] Old man! Come here, my trusted Duke of Kent!

SATINE. Miklookha-Maklai is coming--ho-ho!

THE ACTOR. It has been decided upon! Old man, where's the town--where are you?

SATINE. Fata Morgana, the old man bilked you from top to bottom! There's nothing--no towns--no people--nothing at all!

THE ACTOR. You lie!

THE TARTAR [_jumping up_] Where's the boss? I'm going to the boss. If I can't sleep, I won't pay! Corpses--drunkards . . . [_Exit quickly_]

[_Satine looks after him and whistles._]

BUBNOFF [_in a sleepy voice_] Go to bed, boys--be quiet . . . night is for sleep . . .

THE ACTOR. Yes--so--there's a corpse here. . . . "Our net fished up a corpse. . . ." Verses--by Béranger. . . .

SATINE [_screams_] The dead can't hear . . . the dead do not feel--Scream!--Roar! . . . the dead don't hear!

[_In the doorway appears Luka._]

CURTAIN.

ACT THREE.

_"The Waste," a yard strewn with rubbish and overgrown with weeds. Back, a high brick wall which shuts out the sight of the sky. Near it are elder bushes. Right, the dark, wooden wall of some sort of house, barn or stable. Left, the grey, tumbledown wall of Kostilyoff's night asylum. It is built at an angle so that the further corner reaches almost to the centre of the yard. Between it and the wall runs a narrow passage. In the grey, plastered wall are two windows, one on a level with the ground, the other about six feet higher up and closer to the brick wall. Near the latter wall is a big sledge turned upside down and a beam about twelve feet long. Right of the wall is a heap of old planks. Evening. The sun is setting, throwing a crimson light on the brick wall. Early spring, the snow having only recently melted. The elder bushes are not yet in bud._

_Natasha and Nastya are sitting side by side on the beam. Luka and the Baron are on the sledge. Kleshtch is stretched on the pile of planks to the right. Bubnoff's face is at the ground floor window._

NASTYA [_with closed eyes, nodding her head in rhythm to the tale she is telling in a sing-song voice_] So then at night he came into the garden. I had been waiting for him quite a while. I trembled with fear and grief--he trembled, too . . . he was as white as chalk--and he had the pistol in his hand . . .

NATASHA [_chewing sun-flower seeds_] Oh--are these students really such desperate fellows . . . ?

NASTYA. And he says to me in a dreadful voice: "My precious darling . . ."

BUBNOFF. Ho-ho! Precious--?

THE BARON. Shut up! If you don't like it, you can lump it! But don't interrupt her. . . . Go on . . .

NASTYA. "My one and only love," he says, "my parents," he says, "refuse to give their consent to our wedding--and threaten to disown me because of my love for you. Therefore," he says, "I must take my life." And his pistol was huge--and loaded with ten bullets . . . "Farewell," he says, "beloved comrade! I have made up my mind for good and all . . . I can't live without you . . ." and I replied: "My unforgettable friend--my Raoul. . . ."

BUBNOFF [_surprised_] What? What? Krawl--did you call him--?

THE BARON. Nastka! But last time his name was Gaston. . . .

NASTYA [_jumping up_] Shut up, you bastards! Ah--you lousy mongrels! You think for a moment that you can understand love--true love? My love was real honest-to-God love! [_To the Baron_] You good-for-nothing! . . . educated, you call yourself--drinking coffee in bed, did you?

LUKA. Now, now! Wait, people! Don't interfere! Show a little respect to your neighbors . . . it isn't the word that matters, but what's in back of the word. That's what matters! Go on, girl! It's all right!

BUBNOFF. Go on, crow! See if you can make your feathers white!

THE BARON. Well--continue!

NATASHA. Pay no attention to them . . . what are they? They're just jealous . . . they've nothing to tell about themselves . . .

NASTYA [_sits down again_] I'm going to say no more! If they don't believe me they'll laugh. [_Stops suddenly, is silent for a few seconds, then, shutting her eyes, continues in a loud and intense voice, swaying her hands as if to the rhythm of far music_] And then I replied to him: "Joy of my life! My bright moon! And I, too, I can't live without you--because I love you madly, so madly--and I shall keep on loving you as long as my heart beats in my bosom. But--" I say--"don't take your young life! Think how necessary it is to your dear parents whose only happiness you are. Leave me! Better that I should perish from longing for you, my life! I alone! I--ah--as such, such! Better that I should die--it doesn't matter . . . I am of no use to the world--and I have nothing, nothing at all--" [_Covers her face with her hand and weeps gently_]

NATASHA [_in a low voice_] Don't cry--don't!

[_Luka, smiling, strokes Nastya's head._]

BUBNOFF [_laughs_] Ah--you limb of Satan!

THE BARON [_also laughs_] Hey, old man? Do you think it's true? It's all from that book "Fatal Love" . . . it's all nonsense! Let her alone!

NATASHA. And what's it to you? Shut up--or God'll punish you!

NASTYA [_bitterly_] God damn your soul! You worthless pig! Soul--bah!--you haven't got one!

LUKA [_takes Nastya's hand_] Come, dear! It's nothing! Don't be angry--I know--I believe you! You're right, not they! If you believe you had a real love affair, then you did--yes! And as for him--don't be angry with a fellow-lodger . . . maybe he's really jealous, and that's why he's laughing. Maybe he never had any real love--maybe not--come on--let's go!

NASTYA [_pressing her hand against her breast_] Grandfather! So help me God--it happened! It happened! He was a student, a Frenchman--Gastotcha was his name--he had a little black beard--and patent leathers--may God strike me dead if I'm lying! And he loved me so--my God, how he loved me!

LUKA. Yes, yes, it's all right. I believe you! Patent leathers, you said? Well, well, well--and you loved him, did you? [_Disappears with her around the corner_]

THE BARON. God--isn't she a fool, though? She's good-hearted--but such a fool--it's past belief!

BUBNOFF. And why are people so fond of lying--just as if they were up before the judge--really!

NATASHA. I guess lying is more fun than speaking the truth--I, too . . .

THE BARON. What--you, too? Go on!

NATASHA. Oh--I imagine things--invent them--and I wait--

THE BARON. For what?

NATASHA [_smiling confusedly_] Oh--I think that perhaps--well--to-morrow somebody will really appear--some one--oh--out of the ordinary--or something'll happen--also out of the ordinary. . . . I've been waiting for it--oh--always. . . . But, really, what is there to wait for? [_Pause_]

THE BARON [_with a slight smile_] Nothing--I expect nothing! What is past, is past! Through! Over with! And then what?

NATASHA. And then--well--to-morrow I imagine suddenly that I'll die--and I get frightened . . . in summer it's all right to dream of death--then there are thunder storms--one might get struck by lightning . . .

THE BARON. You've a hard life . . . your sister's a wicked-tempered devil!

NATASHA. Tell me--does anybody live happily? It's hard for all of us--I can see that . . .

KLESHTCH [_who until this moment has sat motionless and indifferent, jumps up suddenly_] For all? You lie! Not for all! If it were so--all right! Then it wouldn't hurt--yes!

BUBNOFF. What in hell's bit you? Just listen to him yelping!

[_Kleshtch lies down again and grunts._]

THE BARON. Well--I'd better go and make my peace with Nastinka--if I don't, she won't treat me to vodka . . .

BUBNOFF. Hm--people love to lie . . . with Nastka--I can see the reason why. She's used to painting that mutt of hers--and now she wants to paint her soul as well . . . put rouge on her soul, eh? But the others--why do they? Take Luka for instance--he lies a lot . . . and what does he get out of it? He's an old fellow, too--why does he do it?

THE BARON [_smiling and walking away_] All people have drab-colored souls--and they like to brighten them up a bit . . .

LUKA [_appearing from round the corner_] You, sir, why do you tease the girl? Leave her alone--let her cry if it amuses her . . . she weeps for her own pleasure--what harm is it to you?

THE BARON. Nonsense, old man! She's a nuisance. Raoul to-day, Gaston to-morrow--always the same old yarn, though! Still--I'll go and make up with her. [_Leaves_]

LUKA. That's right--go--and be nice to her. Being nice to people never does them any harm . . .

NATASHA. You're so good, little father--why are you so good?

LUKA. Good, did you say? Well--call it that! [_Behind the brick wall is heard soft singing and the sounds of a concertina_] Some one has to be kind, girl--some one must pity people! Christ pitied everybody--and he said to us: "Go and do likewise!" I tell you--if you pity a man when he most needs it, good comes of it. Why--I used to be a watchman on the estate of an engineer near Tomsk--all right--the house was right in the middle of a forest--lonely place--winter came--and I remained all by myself. Well--one night I heard a noise--

NATASHA. Thieves?

LUKA. Exactly! Thieves creeping in! I took my gun--I went out. I looked and saw two of them opening a window--and so busy that they didn't even see me. I yell: "Hey there--get out of here!" And they turn on me with their axes--I warn them to stand back, or I'd shoot--and as I speak, I keep on covering them with my gun, first the one, then the other--they go down on their knees, as if to implore me for mercy. And by that time I was furious--because of those axes, you see--and so I say to them: "I was chasing you, you scoundrels--and you didn't go. Now you go and break off some stout branches!"--and they did so--and I say: "Now--one of you lie down and let the other one flog him!" So they obey me and flog each other--and then they begin to implore me again. "Grandfather," they say, "for God's sake give us some bread! We're hungry!" There's thieves for you, my dear! [_Laughs_] And with an ax, too! Yes--honest peasants, both of them! And I say to them, "You should have asked for bread straight away!" And they say: "We got tired of asking--you beg and beg--and nobody gives you a crumb--it hurts!" So they stayed with me all that winter--one of them, Stepan, would take my gun and go shooting in the forest--and the other, Yakoff, was ill most of the time--he coughed a lot . . . and so the three of us together looked after the house . . . then spring came . . . "Good-bye, grandfather," they said--and they went away--back home to Russia . . .

NATASHA. Were they escaped convicts?

LUKA. That's just what they were--escaped convicts--from a Siberian prison camp . . . honest peasants! If I hadn't felt sorry for them--they might have killed me--or maybe worse--and then there would have been trial and prison and afterwards Siberia--what's the sense of it? Prison teaches no good--and Siberia doesn't either--but another human being can . . . yes, a human being can teach another one kindness--very simply! [_Pause_]

BUBNOFF. Hm--yes--I, for instance, don't know how to lie . . . why--as far as I'm concerned, I believe in coming out with the whole truth and putting it on thick . . . why fuss about it?

KLESHTCH [_again jumps up as if his clothes were on fire, and screams_] What truth? Where is there truth? [_Tearing at his ragged clothes_] Here's truth for you! No work! No strength! That's the only truth! Shelter--there's no shelter! You die--that's the truth! Hell! What do I want with the truth? Let me breathe! Why should I be blamed? What do I want with truth? To live--Christ Almighty!--they won't let you live--and that's another truth!

BUBNOFF. He's mad!

LUKA. Dear Lord . . . listen to me, brother--

KLESHTCH [_trembling with excitement_] They say: there's truth! You, old man, try to console every one . . . I tell you--I hate every one! And there's your truth--God curse it--understand? I tell you--God curse it!

[_Rushes away round the corner, turning as he goes._]

LUKA. Ah--how excited he got! Where did he run off to?

NATASHA. He's off his head . . .

BUBNOFF. God--didn't he say a whole lot, though? As if he was playing drama--he gets those fits often . . . he isn't used to life yet . . .

PEPEL [_comes slowly round the corner_] Peace on all this honest gathering! Well, Luka, you wily old fellow--still telling them stories?

LUKA. You should have heard how that fellow carried on!

PEPEL. Kleshtch--wasn't it? What's wrong with him? He was running like one possessed!

LUKA. You'd do the same if your own heart were breaking!

PEPEL [_sitting down_] I don't like him . . . he's got such a nasty, bad temper--and so proud! [_Imitating Kleshtch_] "I'm a workman!" And he thinks everyone's beneath him. Go on working if you feel like it--nothing to be so damned haughty about! If work is the standard--a horse can give us points--pulls like hell and says nothing! Natasha--are your folks at home?

NATASHA. They went to the cemetery--then to night service . . .

PEPEL. So that's why you're free for once--quite a novelty!

LUKA [_to Bubnoff, thoughtfully_] There--you say--truth! Truth doesn't always heal a wounded soul. For instance, I knew of a man who believed in a land of righteousness . . .

BUBNOFF. In what?

LUKA. In a land of righteousness. He said: "Somewhere on this earth there must be a righteous land--and wonderful people live there--good people! They respect each other, help each other, and everything is peaceful and good!" And so that man--who was always searching for this land of righteousness--he was poor and lived miserably--and when things got to be so bad with him that it seemed there was nothing else for him to do except lie down and die--even then he never lost heart--but he'd just smile and say: "Never mind! I can stand it! A little while longer--and I'll have done with this life--and I'll go in search of the righteous land!"--it was his one happiness--the thought of that land . . .

PEPEL. Well? Did he go there?

BUBNOFF. Where? Ho-ho!

LUKA. And then to this place--in Siberia, by the way--there came a convict--a learned man with books and maps--yes, a learned man who knew all sorts of things--and the other man said to him: "Do me a favor--show me where is the land of righteousness and how I can get there." At once the learned man opened his books, spread out his maps, and looked and looked and he said--no--he couldn't find this land anywhere . . . everything was correct--all the lands on earth were marked--but not this land of righteousness . . .

PEPEL [_in a low voice_] Well? Wasn't there a trace of it?

[_Bubnoff roars with laughter._]

NATASHA. Wait . . . well, little father?

LUKA. The man wouldn't believe it. . . . "It must exist," he said, "look carefully. Otherwise," he says, "your books and maps are of no use if there's no land of righteousness." The learned man was offended. "My plans," he said, "are correct. But there exists no land of righteousness anywhere." Well, then the other man got angry. He'd lived and lived and suffered and suffered, and had believed all the time in the existence of this land--and now, according to the plans, it didn't exist at all. He felt robbed! And he said to the learned man: "Ah--you scum of the earth! You're not a learned man at all--but just a damned cheat!"--and he gave him a good wallop in the eye--then another one . . . [_After a moment's silence_] And then he went home and hanged himself!

[_All are silent. Luka, smiling, looks at Pepel and Natasha._]

PEPEL [_low-voiced_] To hell with this story--it isn't very cheerful . . .

NATASHA. He couldn't stand the disappointment . . .

BUBNOFF [_sullen_] Ah--it's nothing but a fairy-tale . . .

PEPEL. Well--there is the righteous land for you--doesn't exist, it seems . . .

NATASHA. I'm sorry for that man . . .

BUBNOFF. All a story--ho-ho!--land of righteousness--what an idea! [_Exit through window_]

LUKA [_pointing to window_] He's laughing! [_Pause_] Well, children, God be with you! I'll leave you soon . . .

PEPEL. Where are you going to?

LUKA. To the Ukraine--I heard they discovered a new religion there--I want to see--yes! People are always seeking--they always want something better--God grant them patience!

PEPEL. You think they'll find it?

LUKA. The people? They will find it! He who seeks, will find! He who desires strongly, will find!

NATASHA. If only they could find something better--invent something better . . .

LUKA. They're trying to! But we must help them girl--we must respect them . . .

NATASHA. How can I help them? I am helpless myself!

PEPEL [_determined_] Again--listen--I'll speak to you again, Natasha--here--before him--he knows everything . . . run away with me?

NATASHA. Where? From one prison to another?

PEPEL. I told you--I'm through with being a thief, so help me God! I'll quit! If I say so, I'll do it! I can read and write--I'll work--He's been telling me to go to Siberia on my own hook--let's go there together, what do you say? Do you think I'm not disgusted with my life? Oh--Natasha--I know . . . I see . . . I console myself with the thought that there are lots of people who are honored and respected--and who are bigger thieves than I! But what good is that to me? It isn't that I repent . . . I've no conscience . . . but I do feel one thing: One must live differently. One must live a better life . . . one must be able to respect one's own self . . .

LUKA. That's right, friend! May God help you! It's true! A man must respect himself!

PEPEL. I've been a thief from childhood on. Everybody always called me "Vaska--the thief--the son of a thief!" Oh--very well then--I am a thief-- . . . just imagine--now, perhaps, I'm a thief out of spite--perhaps I'm a thief because no one ever called me anything different. . . . Well, Natasha--?

NATASHA [_sadly_] Somehow I don't believe in words--and I'm restless to-day--my heart is heavy . . . as if I were expecting something . . . it's a pity, Vassily, that you talked to me to-day . . .

PEPEL. When should I? It isn't the first time I speak to you . . .

NATASHA. And why should I go with you? I don't love you so very much--sometimes I like you--and other times the mere sight of you makes me sick . . . it seems--no--I don't really love you . . . when one really loves, one sees no fault. . . . But I do see . . .

PEPEL. Never mind--you'll love me after a while! I'll make you care for me . . . if you'll just say yes! For over a year I've watched you . . . you're a decent girl . . . you're kind--you're reliable--I'm very much in love with you . . .

[_Vassilisa, in her best dress, appears at window and listens._]

NATASHA. Yes--you love me--but how about my sister . . . ?

PEPEL [_confused_] Well, what of her? There are plenty like her . . .

LUKA. You'll be all right, girl! If there's no bread, you have to eat weeds . . .