TANYA. Why, the dog! It's her dog. (Sits down and takes up the
tea-pot.) Is there any more tea? I've brought some.
[Puts fresh tea into the tea-pot.
FIRST PEASANT. Dinner for a dog?
TANYA. Yes, of course! They prepare a special cutlet for her; it must
not be too fat. And I do the washing--the dog's washing, I mean.
THIRD PEASANT. Oh Lord!
TANYA. It's like that gentleman who had a funeral for his dog.
SECOND PEASANT. What's that?
TANYA. Why, some one told me he had a dog--I mean the gentleman had a
dog. And it died. It was winter, and he went in his sledge to bury
that dog. Well, he buried it, and on the way home he sits and cries--
the gentleman does. Well, there was such a bitter frost that the
coachman's nose keeps running, and he has to keep wiping it. Let me
fill your cup! (Fills it.) So he keeps wiping his nose, and the
gentleman sees it, and says, "What are you crying about?" And the
coachman, he says, "Why, sir, how can I help it; is there another dog
like him?"
[Laughs.
SECOND PEASANT. And I daresay he thinks to himself, "If your own self
was to kick the bucket I'd not cry."
[Laughs.
DISCHARGED COOK (from up on the oven). That is true; that's right!
TANYA. Well, the gentleman, he gets home and goes straight to his
lady: "What a good-hearted man our coachman is; he was crying all the
way home about poor Dash. Have him called.... Here, drink this glass
of vodka," he says, "and here's a rouble as a reward for you." That's
just like her saying Jacob has no feelings for her dog!
[The PEASANTS laugh.
FIRST PEASANT. That's the style!
SECOND PEASANT. That was a go!
THIRD PEASANT. Aye, lassie, but you've set us a-laughing!
TANYA (pouring out more tea). Have some more! Yes, it only seems that
our life is pleasant; but sometimes it is very disgusting,--clearing
up all their messes! Faugh! It's better in the country. (PEASANTS turn
their cups upside-down, as a polite sign that they have had enough.
TANYA pours out more tea.) Have some more, Efim Antonitch. I'll fill
your cup, Mitry Vlasitch.
THIRD PEASANT. All right, fill it, fill it.
FIRST PEASANT. Well, dear, and what progression is our business
making?
TANYA. It's getting on....
FIRST PEASANT. Simon told us....
TANYA. (quickly). Did he?
SECOND PEASANT. But he could not make us understand.
TANYA. I can't tell you now, but I'm doing my best--all I can! And
I've got your paper here! (Shows the paper hidden under the bib of her
apron.) If only one thing succeeds ... (Shrieks.) Oh, how nice it
would be!
SECOND PEASANT. Don't lose that paper, mind. It has cost money.
TANYA. Never fear. You only want him to sign it? Is that all?
THIRD PEASANT. Why, what else? Let's say he's signed it, and it's
done! (Turns his cup upside-down.) I've had enough.
TANYA (aside). He'll sign it; you'll see he will.... Have some more.
[Pours out tea.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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