Russia -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Drama; Russian drama -- Translations into English
BORKIN. [Swinging his arms] I can't sit still! What tricks shall we be
up to next, aunty? I am all on edge, Martha, absolutely exalted. [He
sings]
"Once more I stand before thee!"
ZINAIDA. Think of something to amuse us, Misha, we are all bored.
BORKIN. Yes, you look so. What is the matter with you all? Why are you
sitting there as solemn as a jury? Come, let us play something; what
shall it be? Forfeits? Hide-and-seek? Tag? Shall we dance, or have the
fireworks?
THE GIRLS. [Clapping their hands] The fireworks! The fireworks! [They
run into the garden.]
SASHA. [ To IVANOFF] What makes you so depressed today?
IVANOFF. My head aches, little Sasha, and then I feel bored.
SASHA. Come into the sitting-room with me.
They go out through the door on the right. All the guests go into the
garden and ZINAIDA and LEBEDIEFF are left alone.
ZINAIDA. That is what I like to see! A young man like Misha comes into
the room and in a minute he has everybody laughing. [She puts out the
large lamp] There is no reason the candles should burn for nothing so
long as they are all in the garden. [She blows out the candles.]
LEBEDIEFF. [Following her] We really ought to give our guests something
to eat, Zuzu!
ZINAIDA. What crowds of candles; no wonder we are thought rich.
LEBEDIEFF. [Still following her] Do let them have something to eat,
Zuzu; they are young and must be hungry by now, poor things--Zuzu!
ZINAIDA. The Count did not finish his tea, and all that sugar has been
wasted. [Goes out through the door on the left.]
LEBEDIEFF. Bah! [Goes out into the garden.]
Enter IVANOFF and SASHA through the door on the right.
IVANOFF. This is how it is, Sasha: I used to work hard and think hard,
and never tire; now, I neither do anything nor think anything, and I
am weary, body and soul. I feel I am terribly to blame, my conscience
leaves me no peace day or night, and yet I can't see clearly exactly
what my mistakes are. And now comes my wife's illness, our poverty, this
eternal backbiting, gossiping, chattering, that foolish Borkin--My home
has become unendurable to me, and to live there is worse than torture.
Frankly, Sasha, the presence of my wife, who loves me, has become
unbearable. You are an old friend, little Sasha, you will not be angry
with me for speaking so openly. I came to you to be cheered, but I am
bored here too, something urges me home again. Forgive me, I shall slip
away at once.
SASHA. I can understand your trouble, Nicholas. You are unhappy because
you are lonely. You need some one at your side whom you can love,
someone who understands you.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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