Works of Ivan Turgenev (Illustrated)

by Ivan Turgenev

  Don Pablo: No, Senora! I didn’t get into any bargains with Master Rafael; but, I confess, I did tell Margaret to leave the key in your room, and I told Don Balthazar to tell you that he would spend the night at the Judge’s house. I advised him to give you the opportunity of being alone with your beloved caller. Why did I do that, you ask? You might as well ask a man, who cannot restrain his horses from running down a hill, why he lets them gallop? Long and slow — two whole years it has taken to prepare our ruin. Now, it is ready to fall upon us. I couldn’t restrain myself, and I have prepared the fall.

  Donna Dolores: I repeat: I am not a bit concerned about your feelings, or about your ruin.

  Don Pablo: So . . . and T am not a bit concerned about your fear; about your exasperation. [Donna Dolokes becomes thoughtful.] What are you thinking about?

  Donna Dolohes: You want to know what I am thinking about? I am thinking, that, if my husband were proud and brave, a true protector of his wife, I would ask him with hot tears to defend me and punish you. And I would welcome him with joy as conqueror.

  Don Pablo: Ask Don Balthazar to call me out to a duel.

  Donna Dolores: Senor! It is time for you to stop this joking.

  Don Pablo: Time? You say it is time . . .

  Donna Dolores: If so, good - bye.

  Don Pablo: You still don’t understand me.

  Donna Dolores [proudly]: My dear sir, I don’t want to understand you.

  Don Pablo [bowing]: Senora! What thoughts . . .

  Donna Dolores [disdainfully]: Do you want to kill me?

  [Sangre is silent. During this silence, somebody knocks at the door and Balthazar’s voice is heard: “Pablo! Pablo! Will you be through soonf]

  Don Pablo: Soon, my dear, soon. Your wife is still nervous.

  [Dolores tries to scream. He pulls out his dagger, quickly, and threatens her silently.]

  Don Pablo: Come back in a quarter of an hour, my dear.

  Don Balthazar’s Voice: Very well.

  Don Pablo [going up nearer to Dolores]: Dolores! You understand, that, beginning with this evening, my relationship with you and with your husband, will be completely changed. I feel that I can neither part with you, nor forget you; that you cannot love me, and therefore, that the in

  evitable must happen. I have given away, I confess, to an irresistible impulse. I don’t resist, and I don’t want to resist. I believe in Fate. Only children don’t believe in Fate. Fate sent that boy up here. He spoke, and boasted that he believed neither in vice nor in virtue; he is a buffoon, or a child. He believes in luck, and I — [he becomes thoughtful.]

  Donna Dolores [in a quivering voice]: Sehor! Senor Don Pablo! Is it possible that you are not joking? Oh, surely, you are joking! You want to kill me? Ha, you are laughing yourself. We women always think of the impossible. We are always afraid of something, — we don’t know what. Confess . . . You spoke so strangely, and . . . Hide your dagger, for Heaven’s sake! Listen, Senor: I do not love you, — that is, you have said that I do not love you, but you yourself have always been so gloomy, so silent, — could I have ever thought

  Don Pablo: Senora!

  Donna Dolores: Sangre! Let me go out. Truly, I am tired from all the occurrences of to - day. I swear to you, that I will not mention a word of all this to Don Balthazar. You will come to us as before; you will remain our friend, as before, and I

  Don Pablo: Your words are in vain, Dolores.

  Donna Dolores: Listen; you wanted to frighten me; you have reached your point. Look at me: I am shivering like a leaf. Don’t torment me any longer.

  Don Pablo: I won’t torment you very long.

  Donna Dolores: Don’t look so solemn, Pablo. Laugh! I want to hear ... I want to see you laugh.

  Don Pablo: A woman’s tricks are out of place, now, Dolores.

  Donna Dolores: Sangre! Bethink yourself. What is the matter with you? Have pity upon me. What have I done to you, Sangre? Is it possible that my foolish prank has maddened you to this extent? My God! Is it possible that I am going to die to - day, in this dress, and in this room? I am so young, Pablo. Have pity on me. Don’t ruin my youth.

  Don Pablo: Together with your first youth, will perish my second. As long as you live, I can have no rest. [Goes up to her.]

  Donna Dolores [terrified]: But why do you want to kill me?

  Don Pablo: Blood has a cleansing power. Pray!

  Donna Dolores [falling on her knees]: Sangre! For Heaven’s sake . . .

  Don Pablo: Dolores, your fate has been decided. You are pleading to the very stone that is going to fall upon your head.

  Donna Dolores [despairingly]: How do you know that I might not come to love you in the future?

  Don Pablo [smiling ironically]: How do I know? Dolores! One kiss . . .

  Donna Dolores [jumping up]: Go away! Oh, how I hate you! Did you hear what I said? I hate you! I am not a bit ashamed of my words, because I hoped to deceive you. What grieves me, is that I didn’t succeed. I am going to defend myself; I am going to call for help.

  Don Pablo: Dolores!

  Donna Dolores: I don’t want to die. Help! Help!

  Don Pablo: Don’t scream!

  Donna Dolores: Save me, save me, Balthazar!

  Don Balthazar’s Voice: What’s the noise?

  Donna Dolores: He wants to kill me, Balthazar!

  [The door squeaks from Balthazar’s pressure against it.]

  Don Pablo [running up to her]: All is over. Donna Dolores [despairingly]: Yes, all is over. You contemptible old man! I do love Bafael. Don Pablo: Be still! [He stabs her.] Donna Dolores: Oh! [Falls and dies.]

  [Don Balthazar breaks in the door, and stops, terrified, on the threshold.] Don Balthazar: Oh, Lord! What does this mean? Don Pablo: It means that I loved your wife. . . .

  EPILOGUE

  (Ten years later) Scene: The office of an important official. Discovered: The secretary at the table.

  [Don Pablo Sangre and Count Torreno enter.] Count Pablo [busily, to the secretary]: Are my papers ready? It is time for me . . .

  Secretary [respectfully]: Here they are, Your Highness. [Both go out.]

  Curtain

  BROKE

  A Comedy in One Act

  Translated by M.S. Mandell

  CONTENTS

  CHARACTERS

  BROKE

  CHARACTERS

  Timofei (Timosha) Petrovich Zhazikov, a young man

  Matvei, his servant, an old man

  Vasili Vasilevich Blinov, a land - owner from the steppes

  A Russian merchant

  A German shoemaker

  A French artist

  A girl A driver

  An unknown man

  A dog fancier

  A lithographer’s clerk

  Scene: A reasonably well - furnished room.

  [Zhazikov is sleeping in the bed behind the screen.’]

  BROKE

  Matvei [entering and going up to the led]: Timofei Petrovich! Please get up. Timofei Petrovich! [Silence.] Timofei Petrovich! Timofei Petrovieh!

  Zhazikov: M - m - m.

  Matvei: Please get up, sir; it is time.

  Zhazikov: What time is it?

  Matvei: Quarter past ten.

  Zhazikov [unusually provoked]: Why didn’t you wake me up before this? I told you yesterday Matvei: I did wake you, but you wouldn’t get up.

  Zhazikov: You should have pulled the comfortable off. [Comes out from behind the screen, dressed in a bath - robe. Goes up to the window and looks out.~ Brrr! It must be cold out. It is cold here too. Matvei, make the fire.

  Matvei: There is no wood.

  Zhazikov: How is that? Is it all gone?

  Matvei: It is over a week since it is gone.

  Zhazikov: What nonsense! What are you heating with?

  Matvei: I am not heating.

  Zhazikov [after a short silence]: That’s why I nearly froze to death. . . . You must get wood. However, about that later. Have you made tea?

  Matvei: I have.
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br />   Zhazikov: Very well; let’s have some tea.

  Matvei: All right. Only, there is no sugar.

  Zhazikov: Sugar gone too? Every bit of it?

  Matvei: Every piece of it.

  Zhazikov [indignantly]: I can’t get along without tea. Go, and get sugar somewhere! Go!

  Matvei: Where shall I get it, Timofei Petrovich?

  Zhazikov: In the store. Have it charged. Say that I will pay to - morrow.

  Matvei: He won’t trust any more, Timofei Petrovich. He scolds now.

  Zhazikov: How much do we owe him?

  Matvei: Seven rubles and sixty kopecks.

  Zhazikov: Mean thing! Go and try once more; maybe he will give you some.

  Matvei: He won’t, Timofei Petrovich.

  Zhazikov: Tell him that in a couple of days your master will receive money from home, and that he will pay immediately. Go!

  Matvei: There is no use going, Timofei Petrovich; he will not give any more without money. I know -

  Zhazikov: He won’t give credit because you are a fool! You ask him for it as a favor: “Please trust us.” You haven’t got the least bit of — what do they call it in Kus - sian? . . . Well, what’s the difference, you wouldn’t understand it anyway. [Bell rings. Zhazikov runs behind the screen. In a low voice.] Don’t let anyone in; don’t let anyone in! Do you hear me? Say that I went out of town early this morning. [Stops up his ears with his fingers.] [Matvei goes out.]

  Shoemaker’s Voice: Master home?

  Matvei’s Voice: No.

  Shoemaker’s Voice: Gott Donnerwetter! No?

  Matvei’s Voice: No, he is not home, I tell you. Shoemaker’s Voice: Will he be home soon? Matvei’s Voice: I don’t know! no, not soon. Shoemaker’s Voice: How is that? That’s not right. I need money.

  Matvei’s Voice: He went away. I tell you, he went away. He went away on business.

  Shoemaker’s Voice: Mm! I’ll wait. Matvei’s Voice: You can’t wait here. Shoemaker’s Voice: I’ll wait.

  Matvei’s Voice: No, you can’t wait here, you can’t. Go. I’ll go myself, pretty soon. Shoemaker’s Voice: I’ll wait. Matvei’s Voice: You can’t wait, I tell you. Shoemaker’s Voice: I need money; money I need. I won’t go away.

  Matvei’s Voice: Go, go, I tell you. Shoemaker’s Voice: Shame, shame! A nice man and makes such things! Shame. . . .

  Matvei’s Voice: Go to the devil! I can’t talk to you for an hour.

  Shoemaker’s Voice: When money? When money? Matvei’s Voice: Come the day after to - morrow. Shoemaker’s Voice: What time? Matvei’s Voice: About this time. Shoemaker’s Voice: Well, good - bye. Matvei’s Voice: Good - bye.

  [Clink of the door closing is heard. Matvei enters.] Zhazikov [timidly looking out from behind the screen]: Has he gone? Matvei: Yes, sir.

  Zhazikov: Very well, very well. What a cursed German,!

  All he wants is money, money. ... I don’t like Germans. Now go for sugar.

  Matvei: But, Timofei Petrovich

  Zhazikov: I don’t want to know anything! You want me to go without tea? Steal it, but bring it. . . . Go, go, go!

  [Matvei goes out.~ Zhazikov [alone]: That old fool is positively good - for - nothing! I must write for a younger one. [Short silence.] I must get money somewhere. ... Of whom shall I borrow? That’s the question. [Bell rings.] The devil! Another creditor! And Matvei has gone after sugar. [Rings again.] I can’t open the door for that devil. . . . [Bell rings.] It is surely some creditor — beast! [Bell.] How insolent he is! . . . [Starts to go to the door.] No, I mustn’t; and it is not proper. [Desperate ringing.] Burst, I don’t care. . . . [Shudders.] I think he has broken the bell. . . . How dare he? . . . Suppose it wasn’t a creditor? Suppose it was the letter - carrier with a money order? No, the letter - carrier wouldn’t ring like that. ... He would come later.

  [Matvei enters.] Zhazikov: Where did you get lost? Someone broke the bell in your absence. It’s monstrous, awful! Well, did you bring sugar?

  Matvei [taking a small package in gray paper from his pocket]: Here it is.

  Zhazikov [opening it]: Is that all? There are only four pieces here, and they are full of dust. . . . Matvei: I had hard work getting that, sir. Zhazikov: Well, it’ll have to do. Let’s have the tea. [Begins to hum an Italian aria.] Matvei! Matvei: Yes, sir?

  Zhazikov: Matvei, I want to order a livery for you.

  Matvei: As you please, sir.

  Zhazikov: What do you think? I want to order a livery of the very latest style for you, a purple - gray, with blue shoulder knots. . . . [Bell.] Hell! [Runs behind the screen.]

  [Matvei goes out.]

  Merchant’s Voice: Is your esteemed master still asleep?

  Matvei’s Voice: No, he’s gone out.

  Merchant’s Voice: Gone out?

  Matvei’s Voice: Gone out.

  Merchant’s Voice: So; got up quite early. How about money? Is there any lying around here?

  Matvei’s Voice: I must say, not just now, but there will be soon.

  Merchant’s Voice: That is, when? If not long, I’ll wait.

  Matvei’s Voice: No, you had better come in two or three days.

  Merchant’s Voice: So; so there is none lying around now?

  Matvei’s Voice: Not now.

  Merchant’s Voice: He doesn’t owe very much; but I declare, I have worn out my boots trying to collect it.

  Matvei’s Voice: In about two days.

  Merchant’s Voice: That is, on Thursday? I’d rather come in Friday or Saturday.

  Matvei’s Voice: Well, all right; make it Saturday.

  Merchant’s Voice: There is no money lying around now?

  Matvei’s Voice: No, not just now.

  Merchant’s Voice: So; then when shall I come?

  Matvei’s Voice: I have told you — Saturday. Merchant’s Voice: Saturday? Well, all right, I’ll come Saturday. And so, you haven’t any now? Matvei’s Voice: Oh, Christ! We haven’t any. Merchant’s Voice: Not even twenty - five rubles? Matvei’s Voice: No, no; not even a copper. Merchant’s Voice: Not even twenty? Matvei’s Voice: Where should I get it? Merchant’s Voice: So you haven’t any money? Matvei’s Voice: I haven’t, I haven’t, I haven’t! Merchant’s Voice: Then when shall I come? Matvei’s Voice: Saturday, Saturday! Merchant’s Voice: Not before?

  Matvei’s Voice: You can come before if you like; it won’t make any difference.

  Merchant’s Voice: I’ll come Friday. Matvei’s Voice: All right, come Friday. Merchant’s Voice: And I’ll get the money? Matvei’s Voice: You’ll get it. Merchant’s Voice: Now you haven’t any? Matvei’s Voice: No, no. Merchant’s Voice: So! Friday? Matvei’s Voice: Yes. Merchant’s Voice: About this time? Matvei’s Voice: Yes, yes.

  Merchant’s Voice: Or would it be better Saturday? Matvei’s Voice: You know best.

  Merchant’s Voice: So, I’ll come Friday or Saturday, as I find it handier. You know, as I find it handier. Matvei’s Voice: Just as you see fit. Merchant’s Voice: Perhaps Friday. . . . And now, it isn’t possible to get any money?

  Matvei’s Voice: 0 Lord, 0 Lord! 0 Lord!

  Merchant’s Voice: Then Saturday. Excuse me.

  Matvei’s Voice: Good - bye.

  Merchant’s Voice: Good - bye. I’ll come in Friday or Saturday about this time. Excuse me.

  [Click of door closing is heard. Matvei enters. He is pale and all in a perspiration.]

  Zhazikov [coming out from behind the screen]: You ought to be ashamed of yourself, talking to that fool for an hour! Who was it?

  Matvei [surlily]: The furnichure (furniture) man.