by Maxim Gorky
ZOB. It’s your own affair, Hassanka! You’ll be good for nothing without your hand. We’re judged by our hands and backs—without the pride of your hand, you’re no longer a human being. Tobaccocarting—that’s your business! Come on—have a drink of vodka—and stop worrying!
KVASHNYA [comes in]. Ah, my beloved fellow-lodgers! It’s horrible outside—snow and slush . . . is my policeman here?
MIEDVIEDIEFF. Right here!
KVASHNYA. Wearing my blouse again? And drunk, eh? What’s the idea?
MIEDVIEDIEFF. In celebration of Bubnoff’s birthday . . . besides, it’s cold . . .
KVASHNYA. Better look out—stop fooling about and go to sleep!
MIEDVIEDIEFF [goes to kitchen]. Sleep? I can—I want to—it’s time— [Exit]
SATINE. What’s the matter? Why are you so strict with him?
KVASHNYA. You can’t be otherwise, friend. You have to be strict with his sort. I took him as a partner. I thought he’d be of some benefit to me—because he’s a military man—and you’re a rough lot . . . and I am a woman—and now he’s turned drunkard—that won’t do at all!
SATINE.You picked a good one for partner!
KVASHNYA. Couldn’t get a better one. You wouldn’t want to live with me . . . you think you’re too fine! And even if you did it wouldn’t last more than a week . . . you’d gamble me and all I own away at cards!
SATINE [roars with laughter]. That’s true, landlady—I’d gamble . . .
KVASHNYA. Yes, yes. Alyoshka!
ALYOSHKA. Here he is—I, myself!
KVASHNYA. What do you mean by gossiping about me?
ALYOSHKA. I? I speak out everything—whatever my conscience tells me. There, I say, is a wonderful woman! Splendid meat, fat, bones—over four hundred pounds! But brains—? Not an ounce!
KVASHNYA. You’re a liar! I’ve lot of brains! What do you mean by saying I beat my policeman?
ALYOSHKA. I thought you did—when you pulled him by the hair!
KVASHNYA [laughs]. You fool! You aren’t blind, are you? Why wash dirty linen in public? And—it hurts his feelings—that’s why he took to drink . . .
ALYOSHKA. It’s true, evidently, that even a chicken likes vodka . . .
[SATINE and KLESHTCH roar with laughter.]
KVASHNYA. Go on—show your teeth! What sort of a man are you anyway, Alyoshka?
ALYOSHKA. Oh—I am first-rate! Master of all trades! I follow my nose!
BUBNOFF [near THE TARTAR’s bunk]. Come on! At all events—we won’t let you sleep! We’ll sing all night. Zob!
ZOB. Sing-? All right . . .
ALYOSHKA. And I’ll play . . .
SATINE. We’ll listen!
THE TARTAR [smiling]. Well—Bubnoff—you devil—bring the vodka—we’ll drink—we’ll have a hell of a good time! The end will come soon enough—and then we’ll be dead!
BUBNOFF. Fill his glass, Satine! Zob—sit down! Ah—brothers— what does a man need after all? There, for instance, I’ve had a drink— and I’m happy! Zob! Start my favorite song! I’ll sing—and then I’ll cry. . . .
ZOB [begins to sing]
“The sun rises and sets . . .”
BUBNOFF [joining in]
“But my prison is all dark. . . .”
[Door opens quickly.]
THE BARON [on the threshold; yells]. Hey—you—come—come here! Out in the waste—in the yard . . . over there . . . The actor—he’s hanged himself. . . .
[Silence. All stare at THE BARON. Behind him appears NASTYA, and slowly, her eyes wide with horror, she walks to the table.]
SATINE [in a matter-of-fact voice]. Damned fool—he ruined the song . . . !
CURTAIN
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