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Man From the USSR & Other Plays

Page 13

by Vladimir Nabokov

Don’t be funny. On the contrary, I’m going to take care of the cake now. This is Mama’s birthday, and I don’t have the least intention of spoiling it for her because of some silly ghosts.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  Dearest, these ghosts kill. Do you understand this or not? If you treat danger in general with such birdbrained levity, then ... I just don’t know....

  VERA

  Alyosha, are you afraid he’ll slip in with the others?

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  That would be reason enough. There’s nothing funny about it. Party time! Isn’t that nice! When the fortress is in a state of siege you don’t ask your dear friends to come visiting.

  LYUBOV’

  Alyosha, the fortress has already surrendered.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  Are you doing it on purpose? Are you determined to drive me bananas?

  LYUBOV’

  No, but I simply don’t want to ruin other people’s lives because of your whims.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  There are a thousand things to decide, and we’re spending our time on ridiculous nonsense. Let’s assume that Baumgarten gets me the money.... What next? Do you realize it means we have to drop everything, and I have five portraits in the works, and important letters to write, and I’ve left my watch to be repaired....And if we do go, then where?

  VERA

  If you want my opinion, you’re taking it all too seriously. I was just sitting here with Lyuba reminiscing, and we came to the conclusion that you have absolutely nothing to fear from Lyonya Barbashin.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  Do you have to keep calling him Lyonya all the time? What is he, some child prodigy? I know, Vishnevski tried to “calm me down,” too. I certainly put him in his place. Now there’s no longer any hope of official assistance—the toad got offended. I’m no coward—I’m not afraid for myself, but at the same time I have no desire for some bastard to come along and put a bullet into me.

  VERA

  There’s one little thing I don’t understand, Alyosha. I distinctly recall how, not so long ago, all of us together discussed the question of what would happen when Barbashin came back.

  (Lyubov’ has gone out.)

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  Supposing we did....

  VERA

  And on that occasion, you quite calmly—no, don’t stand with your back to me.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  If I am looking out the window, it is for good reason.

  VERA

  Are you afraid he is lying in wait for you?

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  Oh, I have no doubt that he is waiting somewhere nearby for the right moment....

  VERA

  ...At the time you calmly foresaw everything, and insisted that you didn’t bear him any grudge, that one day you would be drinking to eternal friendship together. In short, you were all meekness and magnanimity.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  I don’t remember that. On the contrary, not a day has passed that I haven’t been tormented by the thought of his return. You think I haven’t been preparing to leave? But how could I foresee that they would all of a sudden pardon him? Tell me, how could I? In a couple of months I would have had my show.... And besides, I’m expecting certain letters.... In a year we could have moved away....Forever, of course!

  (Lyubov ’ returns.)

  LYUBOV’

  There. We’re going to have lunch in a moment. You’ll stay, won’t you, Verochka?

  VERA

  No, my sweet, I’ll be running along. I’ll look in on Mama once more and go on home. When Vanechka comes home for lunch from the hospital, I must be there to feed him, you know. I’ll be back this afternoon.

  LYUBOV’

  Whatever you say.

  VERA

  By the way, that quarrel of his with Mama is beginning to irritate me. Imagine getting offended at an old woman because she dared to gossip that he had given somebody a wrong diagnosis. It’s awfully silly.

  LYUBOV’

  Be sure to come right after lunch.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  Listen, you two, this is sheer insanity! I’m telling you for the last time, Lyuba—today’s festival must be cancelled. To hell with it!

  LYUBOV’

  (to Vera)

  Funny man, isn’t he? He’ll go on nagging like this for another hour without tiring one-bit.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  Splendid. Only I do not intend to be present.

  LYUBOV’

  You know, Verochka, I think I’ll walk you to the comer—the sun’s out.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  You’re going out into the street? You—

  VERA

  Take pity on your husband, Lyubinka. There’ll be time enough for walks.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  Oh no, my friend....If you ... if you do such a thing....

  LYUBOV’

  All right, all right, just stop yelling.

  VERA

  Well, I’m off. So you like my gloves? Cute, aren’t they? And you calm down, Alyosha.... Get a grip on yourself.... There’s nobody thirsting for your blood....

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  I envy your equanimity, dove! Wait till your sister gets bumped off, then you’ll remember, and have a fit. I’m leaving tomorrow in any case. And if I don’t get the money, I’ll know they want my ruin. Oh, if only I were a loan shark or a grocer, how they would look after my safety! No matter, no matter. Some day my paintings will make people scratch their heads, only I won’t see that day. How vile! A murderer roams under your windows at night, and the only advice a fat lawyer can give you is to let things settle down. I’d like to know who is going to do the settling down! Is it I who am supposed to settle down while rattling along the cobblestones in my coffin? No, siree—I’m very sorry! I still intend to stand up for my rights!

  VERA

  Good-by, Lyubinka. So, I’ll be back soon. Surely everything will be all right, won’t it? Still, perhaps you’d better stay home today.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  Lyuba! Hurry, it’s him!

  VERA

  Oh, I want to have a look, too.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  Over there!

  LYUBOV’

  Where? I don’t see anything.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  There, by the newsstand. There, there, there. Standing right by it. Can’t you see?

  LYUBOV’

  Which one? By the curb? With the paper?

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  Yes, yes, yes!

  (Antonina Pavlovna comes in.)

  ANTONINA PAVLOVNA

  Marfa is already serving lunch, children.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  Now are you satisfied? So, who was right? Don’t stick your head out! Are you crazy?...

  CURTAIN

  ACT TWO

  The living room, which also serves as dining room. Lyubov ’, A nto-nina Pavlovna. Table, sideboard. Marfa, a ruddy-faced old woman with two meaty growths on her temple and near her nose, is clearing away the remains of lunch, and the tablecloth.

  MARFA

  What time is he coming, Lyubov’ Ivanovna?

  LYUBOV’

  He’s not coming at all. Your solicitude can be preserved for another day.

  MARFA

  What stewed preserves? I didn’t make any stewed—

  LYUBOV’

  Never mind. The embroidered tablecloth, please.

  MARFA

  What a fright Mr. Alex gave me! The man will be wearing glasses, he says.

  LYUBOV

  Glasses? What kind of piffle is that?

  MARFA

  It’s all the same to me. Never laid eyes on him in my life.

  ANTONINA PAVLOVNA

  Bravo! He’s certainly coached her to perfection.

  LYUBOV’

  I never doubted for a minute that Alyosha would drive her batty. When he begins giving physical descriptions of people, then it’s either untrue or tendentious, (to Marfa) Did they deliver everything from the pas
try shop?

  MARFA

  What you ordered they delivered. Pale, he says, turned-up collar, he says, and how am I to tell a pale face from a red one, with the collar up and the dark glasses?

  (She goes out.)

  LYUBOV’

  Acting the part of a silly harridan.

  ANTONINA PAVLOVNA

  You’d better ask Ryovshin to keep an eye on her or else she won’t let in anyone at all in her fright.

  LYUBOV’

  Point is, she’s lying. She can tell the difference perfectly well when she wants to. After all this crazy talk I, too, am beginning to believe he’ll suddenly show up.

  ANTONINA PAVLOVNA

  Poor Alyosha! That’s who I’m sorry for.... He frightened her out of her wits, then gave me a tongue-lashing for no reason at all.... Whatever did I say at lunch to deserve it?

  LYUBOV’

  Well, you can understand his being upset, (a short pause) He’s even beginning to hallucinate.... To mistake some blond shorty, peacefully buying his paper, for—It’s ridiculous. But you can’t talk him out of it. He’s decided that Barbashin is lurking beneath our windows, therefore it has to be so.

  ANTONINA PAVLOVNA

  I just thought of something funny: all of this would make a terrific play.

  LYUBOV’

  Dear, dear Mama! You’d be perfect for the part of the jolly, plump lady. I’m so happy that fate gave me a literary mother. Someone else would be wailing and complaining in your place, and you are creating.

  ANTONINA PAVLOVNA

  But it’s true. It could be transferred to the stage with hardly any changes, only a little condensing. The first act would be a morning, such as we had today....Of course I would replace Ryovshin by some other, less trivial messenger. For example, a comic, red-nosed policeman or a lawyer with a speech impediment.4 Or else some femme fatale whom Barbashin had abandoned long ago. It could be whipped up with no trouble at all. And then it would start to develop.

  LYUBOV’

  In a word: “Gentlemen, Gogol’s Inspector General has arrived in our town.” I see you consider this whole business an additional birthday surprise. Good for you, Mummy! Tell me, how would you say it will develop? Will there be any shooting?

  ANTONINA PAVLOVNA

  Oh, I still have to think that out. Perhaps he will commit suicide at your feet.

  LYUBOV’

  I’d like so much to know the ending. Chekhov said that if there is a rifle hanging on the wall in the first act of a play, it was sure to be fired in the last, but Leonid Victorovich used to say it was bound to misfire.

  ANTONINA PAVLOVNA

  Please, just don’t do anything rash. Think, Lyubushka, how lucky you are not to have married him. And how cross you used to get with me when, from the very first, I tried to reason with you!

  LYUBOV’

  Mummy, dear, you’d better stick to your play. Our recollections never get along together, so there’s no point in having them meet. Say, didn’t you want to read us your story?

  ANTONINA PAVLOVNA

  I’ll read it when the guests get here. Have a little patience. I rounded it out and polished it before lunch, (a short pause) I can’t understand why I didn’t get a letter from Misha. Strange. Could he be sick?...

  LYUBOV’

  Nonsense. He forgot, and at the last minute will gallop off to the telegraph office.

  (Ryovshin enters, in what appears to be a cutaway.)

  RYOVSHIN

  Hello again. How’s the old morale?

  LYUBOV’

  Splendid. Are you off to a funeral or something?

  RYOVSHIN

  Why? Because of the black suit? What is one supposed to wear for a family celebration, for the fiftieth birthday of our beloved authoress? I believe you like chrysanthemums, Antonina Pavlovna.... They’re the most literary of flowers for the most literary of mothers.

  ANTONINA PAVLOVNA

  How lovely! Thank you, my dear. Lyubushka, there’s a vase over there.

  RYOVSHIN

  And you know why? Because in every chrysanthemum there’s a theme and a mum.

  LYUBOV’

  Life of the party....

  RYOVSHIN

  And where is Alexey Maximovich?

  ANTONINA PAVLOVNA

  The poor dear is working on his portrait of the jeweler’s boy. Well, do you have any news? Any more encounters with the escapee?

  LYUBOV’

  I knew it: now the rumor will start going around that he’s an escaped convict.

  RYOVSHIN

  No news of any importance. How do you assess the situation, Antonina Pavlovna?

  ANTONINA PAVLOVNA

  Optimistically. By the way, I’m convinced that if I could talk to him for five minutes everything would get cleared up.

  LYUBOV’

  No, this vase won’t do. It’s too low.

  ANTONINA PAVLOVNA

  He is a brute, and I know how to talk to brutes. A patient of my late husband’s was once about to inflict bodily harm on him, because his wife had supposedly not been saved in time. I subdued him in a wink. Here, give me those flowers. I’ll take care of them myself—I have plenty of vases. He cooled down immediately.

  LYUBOV’

  Mummy, that never happened.

  ANTONINA PAVLOVNA

  Of course not. Whenever I have an amusing story to tell, it’s always got to be an invention of mine, (leaves with flowers)

  RYOVSHIN

  Ah, such is the fate of all authors.

  LYUBOV’

  Sure there’s nothing new? Or did you do some more amateur sleuthing anyway?

  RYOVSHIN

  Why are you being belligerent toward me again? My love.... I mean, my dear.... You know that I only—

  LYUBOV’

  I know that you only adore meddling in other people’s business like a hick-town Sherlock Holmes.

  RYOVSHIN

  Come on, what are you saying?...

  LYUBOV’

  Then, swear that you didn’t see him again.

  (very loud noise of shattering glass. Troshcheykin runs in.)

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  The mirror is broken! That rotten kid smashed the mirror with a ball!

  LYUBOV’

  Where? Which one?

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  The one in the front hall. Go on, go on, take a look—it’s a lovely sight.

  LYUBOV’

  I told you to send him right home after the sitting, so he wouldn’t turn the place into a soccer field. Of course he goes crazy with those five balls around.... (goes out quickly)

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  They say it’s a terrible omen. I don’t believe in omens, but for some reason, in my life they have always come true. How unpleasant.... Well, let’s hear the news.

  RYOVSHIN

  Yes, I do have a little something for you. But I emphatically request that you not breathe a word to your wife. It’ll only alarm her, especially since she considers the entire matter a personal affair of hers.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  Okay, okay.... Out with it.

  RYOVSHIN

  Well—as soon as I left you I headed for his street and began my watch.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  Did you see him? Did you speak with him?

  RYOVSHIN

  Wait. Let me proceed in orderly fashion.

  TROSHCHEYKIN

  To hell with orderly fashion!

  RYOVSHIN

  An anarchist remark to say the least, but hold on for a minute anyway. Today you already ruined things with Vishnevski by that way of yours of going off half-cocked.

 

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