speak. S’blood! Do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me!” [laughs and clasps] Bravo! Encore! Bravo! Where the devil is there any old age in that? I’m not old, that is all nonsense, a torrent of strength rushes over me; this is life, freshness, youth! Old age and genius can’t exist together. You seem to be struck dumb, Nikitushka. Wait a second, let me come to my senses again. Oh! Good Lord! Now then, listen! Did you ever hear such tenderness, such music? Sh! Softly;
“The moon had set. There was not any light,
Save of the lonely legion’d watch-stars pale
In outer air, and what by fits made bright
Hot oleanders in a rosy vale
Searched by the lamping fly, whose little spark
Went in and out, like passion’s bashful hope.”
[The noise of opening doors is heard] What’s that?
IVANITCH. There are Petrushka and Yegorka coming back. Yes, you have genius, genius, my master.
SVIETLOVIDOFF. [Calls, turning toward the noise] Come here to me, boys! [To IVANITCH] Let us go and get dressed. I’m not old! All that is foolishness, nonsense! [laughs gaily] What are you crying for? You poor old granny, you, what’s the matter now? This won’t do! There, there, this won’t do at all! Come, come, old man, don’t stare so! What makes you stare like that? There, there! [Embraces him in tears] Don’t cry! Where there is art and genius there can never be such things as old age or loneliness or sickness … and death itself is half … [Weeps] No, no, Nikitushka! It is all over for us now! What sort of a genius am I? I’m like a squeezed lemon, a cracked bottle, and you — you are the old rat of the theatre … a prompter! Come on! [They go] I’m no genius, I’m only fit to be in the suite of Fortinbras, and even for that I am too old…. Yes…. Do you remember those lines from Othello, Nikitushka?
“Farewell the tranquil mind! Farewell content!
Farewell the plumed troops and the big wars
That make ambition virtue! O farewell!
Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!”
IVANITCH. Oh! You’re a genius, a genius!
SVIETLOVIDOFF. And again this:
“Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon,
Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even:
Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon,
And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.”
They go out together, the curtain falls slowly.
IVANOFF
CHARACTERS
NICHOLAS IVANOFF, perpetual member of the Council of Peasant Affairs
ANNA, his wife. Nee Sarah Abramson
MATTHEW SHABELSKI, a count, uncle of Ivanoff
PAUL LEBEDIEFF, President of the Board of the Zemstvo
ZINAIDA, his wife
SASHA, their daughter, twenty years old
LVOFF, a young government doctor
MARTHA BABAKINA, a young widow, owner of an estate and daughter of a rich merchant
KOSICH, an exciseman
MICHAEL BORKIN, a distant relative of Ivanoff, and manager of his estate
AVDOTIA NAZAROVNA, an old woman
GEORGE, lives with the Lebedieffs
FIRST GUEST
SECOND GUEST
THIRD GUEST
FOURTH GUEST
PETER, a servant of Ivanoff
GABRIEL, a servant of Lebedieff
GUESTS OF BOTH SEXES
The play takes place in one of the provinces of central Russia
ACT I
The garden of IVANOFF’S country place. On the left is a terrace and the facade of the house. One window is open. Below the terrace is a broad semicircular lawn, from which paths lead to right and left into a garden. On the right are several garden benches and tables. A lamp is burning on one of the tables. It is evening. As the curtain rises sounds of the piano and violoncello are heard.
IVANOFF is sitting at a table reading.
BORKIN, in top-boots and carrying a gun, comes in from the rear of the garden. He is a little tipsy. As he sees IVANOFF he comes toward him on tiptoe, and when he comes opposite him he stops and points the gun at his face.
IVANOFF. [Catches sight of BORKIN. Shudders and jumps to his feet] Misha! What are you doing? You frightened me! I can’t stand your stupid jokes when I am so nervous as this. And having frightened me, you laugh! [He sits down.]
BORKIN. [Laughing loudly] There, I am sorry, really. I won’t do it again. Indeed I won’t. [Take off his cap] How hot it is! Just think, my dear boy, I have covered twelve miles in the last three hours. I am worn out. Just feel how my heart is beating.
IVANOFF. [Goes on reading] Oh, very well. I shall feel it later!
BORKIN. No, feel it now. [He takes IVANOFF’S hand and presses it against his breast] Can you feel it thumping? That means that it is weak and that I may die suddenly at any moment. Would you be sorry if I died?
IVANOFF. I am reading now. I shall attend to you later.
BORKIN. No, seriously, would you be sorry if I died? Nicholas, would you be sorry if I died?
IVANOFF. Leave me alone!
BORKIN. Come, tell me if you would be sorry or not.
IVANOFF. I am sorry that you smell so of vodka, Misha, it is disgusting.
BORKIN. Do I smell of vodka? How strange! And yet, it is not so strange after all. I met the magistrate on the road, and I must admit that we did drink about eight glasses together. Strictly speaking, of course, drinking is very harmful. Listen, it is harmful, isn’t it? Is it? Is it?
IVANOFF. This is unendurable! Let me warn you, Misha, that you are going too far.
BORKIN. Well, well, excuse me. Sit here by yourself then, for heaven’s sake, if it amuses you. [Gets up and goes away] What extraordinary