Without a Dowry and Other Plays

by Alexander Ostrovsky

  ZHADOV. Good-bye.

  PAULINE. It’s good-bye for good. You won’t be seeing me any more.

  ZHADOV. What kind of nonsense is that?

  PAULINE. I’m going to Mama’s, and I’m going to stay there. Don’t you come to us either.

  ZHADOV. That’s stupid, Pauline!

  PAULINE. No, I’ve been thinking it over a long time! (She traces on the floor with her umbrella.) What kind of a life do I have here? Nothing but suffering, no joy at all!

  ZHADOV. Aren’t you ashamed to talk like that? Have you really had no joy with me?

  PAULINE. What joy? If you were rich, that would be something else, but as it is, I have to endure poverty. What kind of joy is that! The other day you came home drunk, you’ll probably be beating me next.

  ZHADOV. Oh good heavens! Why do you say things like that? One time I came home a bit high… Where’s there a man who doesn’t get drunk sometimes?

  PAULINE. We know what that poverty can lead to, Mama told me. You’ll take up drinking, and I’ll be ruined along with you.

  ZHADOV. This is all nonsense that’s gotten into your head!

  PAULINE. But what is there for me to look forward to? I’ve already told my fortune at cards, and I asked a fortune teller too. It all comes out I’m going to be terribly unhappy.

  ZHADOV (grabs himself by the head). She tells her fortune with cards! She goes to fortune tellers!

  PAULINE. I suppose you think cards are nonsense! No, pardon me, never in my life will I believe that! Cards never lie; they always tell the truth. You can even tell right off what a person’s thinking from cards. You don’t believe in anything, with you everything is just nonsense; that’s why you don’t have any happiness.

  ZHADOV (tenderly). Pauline. (He goes toward her.)

  PAULINE (moving away). Do me a favor, leave me alone.

  ZHADOV. No, you don’t love me.

  PAULINE. And why should I love you? Why should one love for nothing?

  ZHADOV (heatedly). For nothing? For nothing? For your love I pay you with love. After all, you’re my wife! Or have you forgotten? It is your duty to share with me both grief and joy… even if I were the lowest of beggars.

  PAULINE (sits down on a chair, throws back her head, and bursts out laughing). Ha, ha, ha, ha!

  ZHADOV. This is really disgusting! It’s immoral!

  PAULINE (gets up quickly). What I don’t understand is why you want to live with an immoral woman. Good-bye, sir.

  ZHADOV. Go on, good-bye. If you can desert your husband without a care, then good-bye. (He sits down at the table and supports his head with his hands.)

  PAULINE. But what’s so surprising! Fish look for deeper water, people for something better.

  ZHADOV. All right, good-bye, good-bye.

  PAULINE (before the mirror). A hat’s a hat, but it’s different when it’s mine. (She sings.) “Mother mine, so dear to me, sun so warm and mild…” You walk down the street, and someone’s sure to look at you and say, “Oh, how pretty!” Good-bye, sir. (She makes a curtsy and leaves.)

  ZHADOV (alone). What a character I have! What’s it good for? I can’t even get along with my wife! What can I do now? God! I’ll go mad. Without her there’s no reason for me to go on living. How this happened I just don’t understand. How could I let her get away from me! What will she do at her mother’s! There she’ll go to the dogs completely. Marya! Marya!

  Marya off stage: “What is it?”

  Run after the mistress and tell her I have to talk with her a bit. And hurry, hurry!… Really, Marya, how slow you are! Run, run fast!

  Marya off stage: “Right away!”

  But suppose she doesn’t want to come back? And she’d be acting very well, quite within her rights. How is she at fault if I can’t support her properly? She’s pretty, only eighteen, she wants to live, wants some pleasure. And I keep her shut up in one room, I’m not home all day. A nice kind of love! So now I can live alone! Great! Wonderful!… An orphan again, what better! In the morning to the office, after the office no reason to go home, so I’ll stay in the tavern till evening when I’ll go home to solitude and a cold bed… I’ll burst into tears! And so on day after day. Very good! (He cries.) Well, so what! You didn’t know how to live with your wife, so live alone. No, I’ll have to decide on something. Either I must part with her or… live… live… the way people live. That’s something I’ll have to think about. (He becomes thoughtful.) Part? Do I have the strength to part with her? How long have I lived with her? Oh, how it hurts, how it hurts! No, really it would be better… why try to fight windmills!11 What am I saying! What thoughts are coming into my head!

  Pauline enters.

  PAULINE (sits down without taking off her coat). What do you want?

  ZHADOV (runs up to her). You’ve come, you’ve come! You’ve come back!… Aren’t you ashamed! You got me so upset, so upset. Pauline, I can’t pull my thoughts together, I’ve lost all control of myself. (He kisses her hands.) Pauline, my friend!

  PAULINE. Don’t you go playing your tender tricks on me.

  ZHADOV. You were joking, Pauline, weren’t you? You won’t leave me, will you?

  PAULINE. What’s so interesting living with you? It’s just misery!

  ZHADOV. You’re killing me, Pauline! If you don’t love, then at least take pity on me. You know how much I love you.

  PAULINE. Yes, it’s clear enough. The way some people love.

  ZHADOV. How could I love any more? How? Tell me, I’ll do anything you say.

  PAULINE. Then go right now to your uncle and make it up with him. Ask him for the same kind of position that Belogubov has, and while you’re at it, ask for some money, we’ll pay it back when we get rich.

  ZHADOV. Not for anything in the world, not for anything in the world! Don’t say that to me.

  PAULINE. Then why did you bring me back? You want to make fun of me? I’ve had enough of that, now I’ve gotten smarter. Good-bye. (She stands up.)

  ZHADOV. Wait! Wait, Pauline! Let me talk with you a bit.

  PAULINE (before the mirror). What’s there to talk about? We’ve already talked it all over.

  ZHADOV (pleading). No, no, Pauline, not all yet. There’s a lot, there’s still a lot I have to tell you. There’s a lot you don’t know. If I could only tell right away what’s in my soul, tell you what I’ve thought and dreamed about, how happy I’d be! Let’s talk a bit, Pauline, let’s talk a bit. Only listen, in God’s name, I’m asking this one favor.

  PAULINE. Talk.

  ZHADOV (heatedly). Listen, listen! (He takes her by the hand.) Always, Pauline, in every era there have been people, and even now there are, people who go against antiquated social customs and conditions. This is not because of their caprice, not because they will it. No, it’s because the principles they have come to know are better, more honorable than the principles which rule society. And these people haven’t just thought up the principles by themselves. They’ve heard them from preachers and professors, read about them in the best literary works, ours and foreign ones. They’ve been raised on them and want to put them into effect. That this is not easy, I grant you. Social vices are strong, the ignorant majority is powerful. The fight is hard and often fatal, but all the more glory to those who are chosen; on them will be bestowed the blessing of posterity; without them falsehood, evil, and coercion would grow until people are cut off from the sun’s light…

  PAULINE (looks at him with amazement). You’ve gone crazy, plumb crazy! And you want me to listen to you; with you I’d lose what few brains I have.

  ZHADOV. But listen to me, Pauline!

  PAULINE. No, I’d be better off listening to smart people.

  ZHADOV. And who are these smart people you’ll listen to?

  PAULINE. Who? Sis, Belogubov.

  ZHADOV. And you compare me with Belogubov?

  PAULINE. Oh come now! What makes you so important? Everybody knows Belogubov’s better than you. His superiors respect him, he loves his wife, is a wonderful man f
or the house, has his own horses… And what about you? All you do is brag…(Imitating him.) “I’m smart, I’m noble, they’re all fools, they’re all bribetakers!”

  ZHADOV. What a tone you’ve taken! What manners! How disgusting!

  PAULINE. Now you’re abusing me again! Good-bye! (She starts to go.)

  ZHADOV (holds her back). Hold on, wait a bit.

  PAULINE. Let me go.

  ZHADOV. No, wait, wait! Polly, my friend, wait a bit. (He grabs her dress.)

  PAULINE (she laughs). Why are you holding me! What a character you are! I want to go, so don’t stop me.

  ZHADOV. But what can I do with you? What can I do with my dear Pauline?

  PAULINE. Go to Uncle and make it up with him.

  ZHADOV. Wait, wait, let me think a bit.

  PAULINE. Think a bit.

  ZHADOV. You know I love you, for you I’m ready to do anything in the world… But what you’re proposing to me!… It’s horrible!… No, I must think some. Yes, yes, yes, yes… I must think some… I must think some… So, if I don’t go to Uncle, you’ll leave me?

  PAULINE. I’ll leave.

  ZHADOV. You’ll leave for good?

  PAULINE. For good. I don’t have to tell you ten times, I’m sick of it. Good-bye!

  ZHADOV. Wait, wait! (He sits down at the table, supports his head with his hands, and becomes thoughtful.)

  PAULINE. How long am I supposed to wait!

  ZHADOV (almost in tears). You know what, Pauline? It’s really nice, isn’t it, when a pretty wife is well dressed?

  PAULINE (with feeling). It’s very nice!

  ZHADOV. That’s it, yes, yes… (He shouts.) Yes, yes! (He stamps his feet.) And it’s nice to go riding with her in a good carriage?

  PAULINE. Oh, how nice!

  ZHADOV. After all, a man has to love his young pretty wife, has to cherish her… (He shouts.) Yes, yes, yes! A man has to dress her up… (Calming down) Very well then, all right… all right… It’s easy enough to do! (In despair.) Goodbye, dreams of my youth! Good-bye, great lessons! Good-bye, my honorable future! I’ll still reach old age, I’ll still have gray hair, I’ll still have children…

  PAULINE. What’s wrong with you, what’s wrong?

  ZHADOV. No, no! We’ll raise our children on strict principles. Let them be outside their time. There’s no need for children to look at their father for an example.

  PAULINE. Stop it!

  ZHADOV. Let me cry a bit, since it’s the last time I’ll be crying in my life. (He sobs.)

  PAULINE. What’s happened to you?

  ZHADOV. Nothing… nothing… it’ll be easy… easy… everything is easy in this world. The only requirement is that I not be reminded of anything! And that’s a simple matter! This is what I’ll do…I’ll keep away, hide out from my old friends… I won’t go to those places where they talk about honor, the sacredness of duty… I’ll work all week long, and on Fridays and Saturdays I’ll get together with all the Belogubovs and get drunk on stolen money, like some highway robber… yes, yes… And I’ll get used to all that.

  PAULINE. (almost crying). You’re saying something bad.

  ZHADOV. And I’ll sing songs… Do you know this song? (He sings.)

  Just take, no need for rhyme or reason.

  Just take whatever’s there to get.

  Men’s hands are always in good season.

  They want to get and get and get.12

  Isn’t that a pretty song?

  PAULINE. I’ll never understand what’s happened to you.

  ZHADOV. Let’s go to Uncle and ask him for a profitable position!

  He puts his hat on carelessly and takes his wife by the hand. They leave.

  ACT FIVE

  Room of the first act. Anton gives a letter on a tray to Mme Vyshnevsky and leaves.

  MME VYSHNEVSKY (reads). “Dear Madame, Anna Pavlovna. Pardon me if you do not like my letter; your behavior towards me justifies mine towards you. I have heard that you are making fun of me and showing strangers my letters, written in love and passion. You cannot know of my position in society and to what degree such conduct on your part compromises me. I’m not a child. What right do you have to act this way with me? My attempt to seek your favor was completely justified by your conduct, which, as you yourself must admit, was not above reproach. And though society permits me as a man to enjoy certain liberties, I still don’t want to look ridiculous. But you have made me a conversation piece in the whole town. You know my relations with Lyubimov; I already told you that among the papers left after his death I found several of your letters. I offered to give them to you. All you had to do was overcome your pride and agree with social opinion that I am one of the handsomest of men and enjoy unusual success with the ladies. It was your pleasure to treat me with scorn. In such a case you must excuse me, but I have decided to hand those letters over to your husband.” There’s nobility for you! Ugh! How disgusting! Oh well, it doesn’t matter, it all had to end sometime. I’m not one of those women who, with calculated depravity, try to cover up an act of passion. What nice men we have! A man forty years old, with a beautiful wife, starts making advances to me, saying and doing stupid things. What’s his justification? Passion? What passion? He must have lost the ability to fall in love at the age of eighteen. No, it’s very simple. He heard some gossip about me, and he considers me an accessible woman. And so, not standing on ceremony, he starts writing me passionate letters, full of the cheapest kind of tender sentiments, obviously thought out very deliberately. He’ll make the rounds in ten living rooms, and then he’ll come to comfort me. He says he’s above cold heartless society with its proprieties and laws, that he scorns social opinion, that in his eyes passion justifies all. He swears he’s in love, speaks cliches, and when he wants to give his face a passionate expression he puts on strange and sour smiles. He doesn’t even go to the trouble of pretending he’s in love. Why bother? It’ll all work out all right just so long as the formalities are observed. If you make fun of a man like that or show him the contempt he deserves, he thinks he has the right to avenge himself. For him ridicule is more horrible than the worst of vices. He can brag about an affair with a woman, that does him honor, but show his letters and that’s a calamity, it compromises him. He himself feels that his letters are ridiculous and stupid. What does he take those women for, the ones he writes such letters? His like has no conscience! And now, in a burst of noble indignation, he is acting meanly toward me, no doubt considering himself in the right. And he’s not the only one, they’re all like that… Well, so much the better, at least I’ll have things out with my husband. I even want to have things out. He’ll see that if I’m guilty towards him, then he’s even more guilty towards me. He destroyed my whole life. With his selfishness he dried up my heart, deprived me of family happiness, made me cry over my lost youth. I spent my youth with him in trivialities, without feeling, at a time when my soul was craving for life, for love. In the empty and petty circle of his acquaintances which he led me into, all my best spiritual qualities were strangled, all my noble aspirations were frozen. And besides that my conscience bothers me for an act I was not in a position to avoid.

  Yusov enters, noticeably upset.

  YUSOV (bowing). He hasn’t come yet, ma’am?

  MME VYSHNEVSKY. Not yet. Sit down.

  Yusov sits down.

  Has something upset you?

  YUSOV. There aren’t any words for it, ma’am… my mouth can’t speak.

  MME VYSHNEVSKY. But what is it?

  YUSOV (shakes his head). Man all the same… is a ship at sea… suddenly a shipwreck, and nobody there to save him!…

  MME VYSHNEVSKY. I don’t understand you.

  YUSOV. I’m talking about frailty… what is enduring in this life? What will we take with us when we enter that life?… Certain dealings… one might say, a burden on one’s back… have been exposed… and even things in the planning stage… (Waves his hand.) They’ve all been recorded.

  MME VYSHNEVSKY. But what i
s it, did somebody die?

  YUSOV. No, Ma’am, it’s a setback in life. (He takes some snuff.) In wealth and fame can occur an eclipse… of our feelings… we forget our poor brethren… pride, physical pleasure… Because of that we get punished for our affairs.

  MME VYSHNEVSKY. I’ve known that a long time; only I don’t understand why you’re wasting your eloquence on me for no good reason.

  YUSOV. It’s close to my heart… Even though I don’t have to answer for much in this business… still, to see it happen to such a high person! What is lasting?… When even a man’s rank doesn’t protect him.

  MME VYSHNEVSKY. Happen to what high person?

  YUSOV. We’re in disfavor, ma’am.

  MME VYSHNEVSKY. Go on.

  YUSOV. There’s been brought to light some alleged negligence, shortages of funds, certain irregularities.

  MME VYSHNEVSKY. So?

  YUSOV. So we’re being brought to trial, ma’am… That is, I personally won’t be especially accountable, but Aristarkh Vladimirych will have to…

  MME VYSHNEVSKY. Have to what?

  YUSOV. He’ll have to answer for all his property and undergo trial for supposedly illegal procedures.

  MME VYSHNEVSKY (lifting her eyes). The atonement is beginning!

  YUSOV. Of course, it’s a fatal blow… They’ll look for some pretext, and they’ll probably find something. They’re so strict now I suppose they’ll dismiss me… I’ll live in poverty without a crust of bread.

  MME VYSHNEVSKY. I’m sure you’re a long way from that.

  YUSOV. But then there are the children, ma’am.

  Silence.

  I kept thinking on the way, in sorrow, why has God’s visitation come upon us? It’s because of pride… Pride blinds a man, clouds his eyes.

  MME VYSHNEVSKY. Really now, what does pride have to do with it? It’s simply for taking bribes.

  YUSOV. Bribes? Bribes are of no great importance… lots of people have been subjected to them. There’s no humility, that’s the main thing… Fate is just like fortune… the way it’s shown in that picture13… There’s a wheel with people on it, it takes them up and then brings them down, they’re elevated and then they’re humbled, exalted and then nothing… So it’s all a circle. You establish your well-being, you work, you gain property… You fly high in your dreams… and just like that you’re naked!… There’s an inscription below that wheel of fortune, and it reads like this…(with feeling)