The Complete Works of Leo Tolstoy (25+ Works with active table of contents)

by Leo Tolstoy

  ANÍSYA. Where's the hurry?

  MATRYÓNA. Well, and has he had communion?

  ANÍSYA. Oh dear yes, the priest was here yesterday.

  NEIGHBOUR. I had a look at him yesterday. Dearie me! one wonders his body and soul keep together. And, O Lord, the other day he seemed just at his last gasp, so that they laid him under the holy icóns.[1] They started lamenting and got ready to lay him out.

  [1] It is customary to place a dying person under the icón. One or more icóns hang in the hut of each Orthodox peasant.

  ANÍSYA. He came to, and creeps about again.

  MATRYÓNA. Well, and is he to have extreme unction?

  ANÍSYA. The neighbours advise it. If he lives till to-morrow we'll send for the priest.

  NEIGHBOUR. Oh, Anísya dear, I should think your heart must be heavy. As the saying goes, "Not he is sick that's ill in bed, but he that sits and waits in dread."

  ANÍSYA. Yes, if it were only over one way or other!

  NEIGHBOUR. Yes, that's true, dying for a year, it's no joke. You're bound hand and foot like that.

  MATRYÓNA. Ah, but a widow's lot is also bitter. It's all right as long as one's young, but who'll care for you when you're old? Oh yes, old age is not pleasure. Just look at me. I've not walked very far, and yet am so footsore I don't know how to stand. Where's my son?

  ANÍSYA. Ploughing. But you come in and we'll get the samovár ready; the tea'll set you up again.

  MATRYÓNA [sitting down] Yes, it's true, I'm quite done up, my dears. As to extreme unction, that's absolutely necessary. Besides, they say it's good for the soul.

  ANÍSYA. Yes, we'll send to-morrow.

  MATRYÓNA. Yes, you had better. And we've had a wedding down in our parts.

  NEIGHBOUR. What, in spring?[2]

  [2] Peasant weddings are usually in autumn. They are forbidden in Lent, and soon after Easter the peasants become too busy to marry till harvest is over.

  MATRYÓNA. Ah, now if it were a poor man, then, as the saying is, it's always unseasonable for a poor man to marry. But it's Simon Matvéyitch, he's married that Marína.

  ANÍSYA. What luck for her!

  NEIGHBOUR. He's a widower. I suppose there are children?

  MATRYÓNA. Four of 'em. What decent girl would have him! Well, so he's taken her, and she's glad. You see, the vessel was not sound, so the wine trickled out.

  NEIGHBOUR. Oh my! And what do people say to it? And he, a rich peasant!

  MATRYÓNA. They are living well enough so far.

  NEIGHBOUR. Yes, it's true enough. Who wants to marry where there are children? There now, there's our Michael. He's such a fellow, dear me ...

  PEASANT'S VOICE. Hullo, Mávra. Where the devil are you? Go and drive the cow in.

  Exit Neighbour.

  MATRYÓNA [while the Neighbour is within hearing speaks in her ordinary voice] Yes, lass, thank goodness, she's married. At any rate my old fool won't go bothering about Nikíta. Now [suddenly changing her tone], she's gone! [Whispers] I say, did you give him the tea?

  ANÍSYA. Don't speak about it. He'd better die of himself. It's no use--he doesn't die, and I have only taken a sin on my soul. O-oh, my head, my head! Oh, why did you give me those powders?

  MATRYÓNA. What of the powders? The sleeping powders, lass,--why not give them? No evil can come of them.

  ANÍSYA. I am not talking of the sleeping ones, but the others, the white ones.

  MATRYÓNA. Well, honey, those powders are medicinal.

  ANÍSYA [sighs] I know, yet it's frightening. Though he's worried me to death.

  MATRYÓNA. Well, and did you use many?

  ANÍSYA. I gave two doses.

  MATRYÓNA. Was anything noticeable?

  ANÍSYA. I had a taste of the tea myself--just a little bitter. And he drank them with the tea and says, "Even tea disgusts me," and I say, "Everything tastes bitter when one's sick." But I felt that scared, mother.

  MATRYÓNA. Don't go thinking about it. The more one thinks the worse it is.

  ANÍSYA. I wish you'd never given them to me and led me into sin. When I think of it something seems to tear my heart. Oh dear, why did you give them to me?

  MATRYÓNA. What do you mean, honey? Lord help you! Why are you turning it on to me? Mind, lass, don't go twisting matters from the sick on to the healthy. If anything were to happen, I stand aside! I know nothing! I'm aware of nothing! I'll kiss the cross on it; I never gave you any kind of powders, never saw any, never heard of any, and never knew there were such powders. You think about yourself, lass. Why, we were talking about you the other day. "Poor thing, what torture she endures. The step-daughter an idiot; the old man rotten, sucking her life-blood. What wouldn't one be ready to do in such a case!"

  ANÍSYA. I'm not going to deny it. A life such as mine could make one do worse than that. It could make you hang yourself or throttle him. Is this a life?

  MATRYÓNA. That's just it. There's no time to stand gaping; the money must be found one way or other, and then he must have his tea.

  ANÍSYA. O-oh, my head, my head! I can't think what to do. I am so frightened; he'd better die of himself. I don't want to have it on my soul.

  MATRYÓNA [viciously] And why doesn't he show the money? Does he mean to take it along with him? Is no one to have it? Is that right? God forbid such a sum should be lost all for nothing. Isn't that a sin? What's he doing? Is he worth considering?

  ANÍSYA. I don't know anything. He's worried me to death.

  MATRYÓNA. What is it you don't know? The business is clear. If you make a slip now, you'll repent it all your life. He'll give the money to his sister and you'll be left without.

  ANÍSYA. O-oh dear! Yes, and he did send for her--I must go.

  MATRYÓNA. You wait a bit and light the samovár first. We'll give him some tea and search him together--we'll find it, no fear.

  ANÍSYA. Oh dear, oh dear; supposing something were to happen.

  MATRYÓNA. What now? What's the good of waiting? Do you want the money to slip from your hand when it's just in sight? You go and do as I say.

  ANÍSYA. Well, I'll go and light the samovár.

  MATRYÓNA. Go, honey, do the business so as not to regret it afterwards. That's right! [Anísya turns to go. Matryóna calls her back].

  MATRYÓNA. Just a word. Don't tell Nikíta about the business. He's silly. God forbid he should find out about the powders. The Lord only knows what he would do. He's so tender-hearted. D'you know, he usen't to be able to kill a chicken. Don't tell him. 'Twould be a fine go, he wouldn't understand things. [Stops horror-struck as Peter appears in the doorway].

  PETER [holding on to the wall, creeps out into the porch and calls with a faint voice] How's it one can't make you hear? Oh, oh, Anísya! Who's there? [Drops on the bench].

  ANÍSYA [steps from behind the corner] Why have you come out? You should have stayed where you were lying.

  PETER. Has the girl gone for Martha? It's very hard.... Oh, if only death would come quicker!

  ANÍSYA. She had no time. I sent her to the river. Wait a bit, I'll go myself when I'm ready.

  PETER. Send Nan. Where's she? Oh, I'm that bad! Oh, death's at hand!

  ANÍSYA. I've sent for her already.

  PETER. Oh dear! Then where is she?

  ANÍSYA. Where's she got to, the plague seize her!

  PETER. Oh, dear! I can't bear it. All my inside's on fire. It's as if a gimlet were boring me. Why have you left me as if I were a dog?... no one to give me a drink.... Oh ... send Nan to me.

  ANÍSYA. Here she is. Nan, go to father.

  Nan runs in. Anísya goes behind the corner of the house.

  PETER. Go you. Oh ... to Aunt Martha, tell her father wants her; say she's to come, I want her.

  NAN. All right.

  PETER. Wait a bit. Tell her she's to come quick. Tell her I'm dying. O-oh!

  NAN. I'll just get my shawl and be off. [Runs off].

  MATRYÓNA [winking] Now then, mind and look sharp, lass. Go into the hut, hunt about e
verywhere, like a dog that's hunting for fleas: look under everything, and I'll search him.

  ANÍSYA [to Matryóna] I feel a bit bolder, somehow, now you're here. [Goes up to porch. To Peter] Hadn't I better light the samovár? Here's Mother Matryóna come to see her son; you'll have a cup of tea with her?

  PETER. Well then, light it. [Anísya goes into the house. Matryóna comes up to the porch].

  PETER. How do you do?

  MATRYÓNA [bowing] How d'you do, my benefactor; how d'you do, my precious ... still ill, I see. And my old man, he's that sorry! "Go," says he, "see how he's getting on." He sends his respects to you. [Bows again].

  PETER. I'm dying.

  MATRYÓNA. Ah yes, Peter Ignátitch, now I look at you I see, as the saying has it, "Sickness lives where men live." You've shrivelled, shrivelled, all to nothing, poor dear, now I come to look at you. Seems illness does not add to good looks.

  PETER. My last hour has come.

  MATRYÓNA. Oh well, Peter Ignátitch, it's God's will you know, you've had communion, and you'll have unction, God willing. Your missus is a wise woman, the Lord be thanked; she'll give you a good burial, and have prayers said for your soul, all most respectable! And my son, he'll look after things meanwhile.

  PETER. There'll be no one to manage things! She's not steady. Has her head full of folly--why, I know all about it, I know. And my girl is silly and young. I've got the homestead together, and there's no one to attend to things. One can't help feeling it. [Whimpers].

  MATRYÓNA. Why, if it's money, or something, you can leave orders.

  PETER [to Anísya inside the house] Has Nan gone?

  MATRYÓNA [aside] There now, he's remembered!

  ANÍSYA [from inside] She went then and there. Come inside, won't you? I'll help you in.

  PETER. Let me sit here a bit for the last time. The air's so stuffy inside. Oh, how bad I feel! Oh, my heart's burning.... Oh, if death would only come.

  MATRYÓNA. If God don't take a soul, the soul can't go out. Death and life are in God's will, Peter Ignátitch. You can't be sure of death either. Maybe you'll recover yet. There was a man in our village just like that, at the very point of death ...

  PETER. No, I feel I shall die to-day, I feel it. [Leans back and shuts his eyes].

  ANÍSYA [enters] Well now, are you coming in or not? You do keep one waiting. Peter! eh, Peter!

  MATRYÓNA [steps aside and beckons to Anísya with her finger] Well?

  ANÍSYA [comes down the porch steps] Not there.

  MATRYÓNA. But have you searched everywhere? Under the floor?

  ANÍSYA. No, it's not there either. In the shed perhaps; he was rummaging there yesterday.

  MATRYÓNA. Go, search, search for all you're worth. Go all over everywhere, as if you licked with your tongue! But I see he'll die this very day, his nails are turning blue and his face looks earthy. Is the samovár ready?

  ANÍSYA. Just on the boil.

  NIKÍTA [comes from the other side, if possible on horseback, up to the gate, and does not see Peter. To Matryóna] How d'you do, mother, is all well at home?

  MATRYÓNA. The Lord be thanked, we're all alive and have a crust to bite.

  NIKÍTA. Well, and how's master?

  MATRYÓNA. Hush, there he sits. [Points to porch].

  NIKÍTA. Well, let him sit. What's it to me?

  PETER [opens his eyes] Nikíta, I say, Nikíta, come here! [Nikíta approaches. Anísya and Matryóna whisper together].

  PETER. Why have you come back so early?

  NIKÍTA. I've finished ploughing.

  PETER. Have you done the strip beyond the bridge?

  NIKÍTA. It's too far to go there.

  PETER. Too far? From here it's still farther. You'll have to go on purpose now. You might have made one job of it. [Anísya, without showing herself, stands and listens].

  MATRYÓNA [approaches] Oh, sonnie, why don't you take more pains for your master? Your master is ill and depends on you; you should serve him as you would your own father, straining every muscle just as I always tell you to.

  PETER. Well then--o-oh!... Get out the seed potatoes, and the women will go and sort them.

  ANÍSYA [aside] No fear, I'm not going. He's again sending every one away; he must have the money on him now, and wants to hide it somewhere.

  PETER. Else ... o-oh! when the time comes for planting, they'll all be rotten. Oh, I can't stand it! [Rises].

  MATRYÓNA [runs up into the porch and holds Peter up] Shall I help you into the hut?

  PETER. Help me in. [Stops] Nikíta!

  NIKÍTA [angrily] What now?

  PETER. I shan't see you again ... I'll die to-day.... Forgive me,[3] for Christ's sake, forgive me if I have ever sinned against you ... If I have sinned in word or deed ... There's been all sorts of things. Forgive me!

  [3] A formal request for forgiveness is customary among Russians, but it is often no mere formality. Nikíta's first reply is evasive; his second reply, "God will forgive you," is the correct one sanctioned by custom.

  NIKÍTA. What's there to forgive? I'm a sinner myself.

  MATRYÓNA. Ah, sonnie, have some feeling.

  PETER. Forgive me, for Christ's sake. [Weeps].

  NIKÍTA [snivels] God will forgive you, Daddy Peter. I have no cause to complain of you. You've never done me any wrong. You forgive me; maybe I've sinned worse against you. [Weeps].

  Peter goes in whimpering, Matryóna supporting him.

  ANÍSYA. Oh, my poor head! It's not without some reason he's hit on that. [Approaches Nikíta] Why did you say the money was under the floor? It's not there.

  NIKÍTA [does not answer, but cries] I have never had anything bad from him, nothing but good, and what have I gone and done!

  ANÍSYA. Enough now! Where's the money?

  NIKÍTA [angrily] How should I know? Go and look for it yourself!

  ANÍSYA. What's made you so tender?

  NIKÍTA. I am sorry for him,--that sorry. How he cried! Oh dear!

  ANÍSYA. Look at him,--seized with pity! He has found someone to pity too! He's been treating you like a dog, and even just now was giving orders to have you turned out of the house. You'd better show me some pity!

  NIKÍTA. What are you to be pitied for?

  ANÍSYA. If he dies, and the money's been hidden away ...

  NIKÍTA. No fear, he'll not hide it ...

  ANÍSYA. Oh, Nikíta darling! he's sent for his sister, and wants to give it to her. It will be a bad lookout for us. How are we going to live, if he gives her the money? They'll turn me out of the house! You try and manage somehow! You said he went to the shed last night.

  NIKÍTA. I saw him coming from there, but where he's shoved it to, who can tell?

  ANÍSYA. Oh, my poor head! I'll go and have a look there. [Nikíta steps aside].

  MATRYÓNA [comes out of the hut and down the steps of the porch to Anísya and Nikíta] Don't go anywhere. He's got the money on him. I felt it on a string round his neck.

  ANÍSYA. Oh my head, my head!

  MATRYÓNA. If you don't keep wide awake now, then you may whistle for it. If his sister comes--then good-bye to it!

  ANÍSYA. That's true. She'll come and he'll give it her. What's to be done? Oh my poor head!

  MATRYÓNA. What is to be done? Why, look here; the samovár is boiling, go and make the tea and pour him out a cup, and then [whispers] put in all that's left in the paper. When he's drunk the cup, then just take it. He'll not tell, no fear.

  ANÍSYA. Oh! I'm afeared!

  MATRYÓNA. Don't be talking now, but look alive, and I'll keep his sister off if need be. Mind, don't make a blunder! Get hold of the money and bring it here, and Nikíta will hide it.

  ANÍSYA. Oh my head, my head! I don't know how I'm going to ...

  MATRYÓNA. Don't talk about it I tell you, do as I bid you. Nikíta!

  NIKÍTA. What is it?

  MATRYÓNA. You stay here--sit down--in case something is wanted.

  NIKÍTA [waves his hand] Oh these women, w
hat won't they be up to? Muddle one up completely. Bother them! I'll really go and fetch out the potatoes.

  MATRYÓNA [catches him by the arm] Stay here, I tell you.