The Power of Darkness, graf Tolstoy Leo [most romantic novels txt] 📗
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NIKÍTA. What's there to forgive? I'm a sinner myself.
MATRYÓNA. Ah, sonnie, have some feeling.
PETER. Forgive me, for Christ's sake. [Weeps].
NIKÍTA [snivels] God will forgive you, Daddy Peter. I have no cause to complain of you. You've never done me any wrong. You forgive me; maybe I've sinned worse against you. [Weeps].
Peter goes in whimpering, Matryóna supporting him.
ANÍSYA. Oh, my poor head! It's not without some reason he's hit on that. [Approaches Nikíta] Why did you say the money was under the floor? It's not there.
NIKÍTA [does not answer, but cries] I have never had anything bad from him, nothing but good, and what have I gone and done!
ANÍSYA. Enough now! Where's the money?
NIKÍTA [angrily] How should I know? Go and look for it yourself!
ANÍSYA. What's made you so tender?
NIKÍTA. I am sorry for him,—that sorry. How he cried! Oh dear!
ANÍSYA. Look at him,—seized with pity! He has found someone to pity too! He's been treating you like a dog, and even just now was giving orders to have you turned out of the house. You'd better show me some pity!
NIKÍTA. What are you to be pitied for?
ANÍSYA. If he dies, and the money's been hidden away …
NIKÍTA. No fear, he'll not hide it …
ANÍSYA. Oh, Nikíta darling! he's sent for his sister, and wants to give it to her. It will be a bad lookout for us. How are we going to live, if he gives her the money? They'll turn me out of the house! You try and manage somehow! You said he went to the shed last night.
NIKÍTA. I saw him coming from there, but where he's shoved it to, who can tell?
ANÍSYA. Oh, my poor head! I'll go and have a look there. [Nikíta steps aside].
MATRYÓNA [comes out of the hut and down the steps of the porch to Anísya and Nikíta] Don't go anywhere. He's got the money on him. I felt it on a string round his neck.
ANÍSYA. Oh my head, my head!
MATRYÓNA. If you don't keep wide awake now, then you may whistle for it. If his sister comes—then good-bye to it!
ANÍSYA. That's true. She'll come and he'll give it her. What's to be done? Oh my poor head!
MATRYÓNA. What is to be done? Why, look here; the samovár is boiling, go and make the tea and pour him out a cup, and then [whispers] put in all that's left in the paper. When he's drunk the cup, then just take it. He'll not tell, no fear.
ANÍSYA. Oh! I'm afeared!
MATRYÓNA. Don't be talking now, but look alive, and I'll keep his sister off if need be. Mind, don't make a blunder! Get hold of the money and bring it here, and Nikíta will hide it.
ANÍSYA. Oh my head, my head! I don't know how I'm going to …
MATRYÓNA. Don't talk about it I tell you, do as I bid you. Nikíta!
NIKÍTA. What is it?
MATRYÓNA. You stay here—sit down—in case something is wanted.
NIKÍTA [waves his hand] Oh these women, what won't they be up to? Muddle one up completely. Bother them! I'll really go and fetch out the potatoes.
MATRYÓNA [catches him by the arm] Stay here, I tell you.
Nan enters.
ANÍSYA. Well?
NAN. She was down in her daughter's vegetable plot—she's coming.
ANÍSYA. Coming! What shall we do?
MATRYÓNA. There's plenty of time if you do as I tell you.
ANÍSYA. I don't know what to do; I know nothing, my brain's all in a whirl. Nan! Go, daughter, and see to the calves, they'll have run away, I'm afraid.… Oh dear, I haven't the courage.
MATRYÓNA. Go on! I should think the samovár's boiling over.
ANÍSYA. Oh my head, my poor head! [Exit].
MATRYÓNA [approaches Nikíta] Now then, sonnie. [Sits down beside him] Your affairs must also be thought about, and not left anyhow.
NIKÍTA. What affairs?
MATRYÓNA. Why, this affair—how you're to live your life.
NIKÍTA. How to live my life? Others live, and I shall live!
MATRYÓNA. The old man will probably die to-day.
NIKÍTA. Well, if he dies, God give him rest! What's that to me?
MATRYÓNA [keeps looking towards the porch while she speaks] Eh, sonnie! Those that are alive have to think about living. One needs plenty of sense in these matters, honey. What do you think? I've tramped all over the place after your affairs, I've got quite footsore bothering about matters. And you must not forget me when the time comes.
NIKÍTA. And what's it you've been bothering about?
MATRYÓNA. About your affairs, about your future. If you don't take trouble in good time you'll get nothing. You know Iván Moséitch? Well, I've been to him too. I went there the other day. I had something else to settle, you know. Well, so I sat and chatted awhile and then came to the point. “Tell me, Iván Moséitch,” says I, “how's one to manage an affair of this kind? Supposing,” says I, “a peasant as is a widower married a second wife, and supposing all the children he has is a daughter by the first wife, and a daughter by the second. Then,” says I, “when that peasant dies, could an outsider get hold of the homestead by marrying the widow? Could he,” says I, “give both the daughters in marriage and remain master of the house himself?” “Yes, he could,” says he, “but,” says he, “it would mean a deal of trouble; still the thing could be managed by means of money, but if there's no money it's no good trying.”
NIKÍTA [laughs] That goes without saying, only fork out the money. Who does not want money?
MATRYÓNA. Well then, honey, so I spoke out plainly about the affair. And he says, “First and foremost, your son will have to get himself on the register of that village—that will cost something. The elders will have to be treated. And they, you see, they'll sign. Everything,” says he, “must be done sensibly.” Look, [unwraps her kerchief and takes out a paper] he's written out this paper; just read it, you're a scholar, you know. [Nikíta reads].
NIKÍTA. This paper's only a decision for the elders to sign. There's no great wisdom needed for that.
MATRYÓNA. But you just hear what Iván Moséitch bids us do. “Above all,” he says, “mind and don't let the money slip away, dame. If she don't get hold of the money,” he says, “they'll not let her do it. Money's the great thing!” So look out, sonnie, things are coming to a head.
NIKÍTA. What's that to me? The money's hers—so let her look out.
MATRYÓNA. Ah, sonnie, how you look at it! How can a woman manage such affairs? Even if she does get the money, is she capable of arranging it all? One knows what a woman is! You're a man anyhow. You can hide it, and all that. You see, you've after all got more sense, in case of anything happening.
NIKÍTA. Oh, your woman's notions are all so inexpedient!
MATRYÓNA. Why inexpedient? You just collar the money, and the woman's in your hands. And then should she ever turn snappish you'd be able to tighten the reins!
NIKÍTA. Bother you all,—I'm going.
ANÍSYA [quite pale, runs out of the hut and round the corner to Matryóna] So it was, it was on him! Here it is! [Shows that she has something under her apron].
MATRYÓNA. Give it to Nikíta, he'll hide it. Nikíta, take it and hide it somewhere.
NIKÍTA. All right, give here!
ANÍSYA. O-oh, my poor head! No, I'd better do it myself. [Goes towards the gate].
MATRYÓNA [seizing her by the arm] Where are you going to? You'll be missed. There's the sister coming; give it him; he knows what to do. Eh, you blockhead!
ANÍSYA [stops irresolutely] Oh, my head, my head!
NIKÍTA. Well, give it here. I'll shove it away somewhere.
ANÍSYA. Where will you shove it to?
NIKÍTA [laughing] Why, are you afraid?
Enter Akoulína, carrying clothes from the wash.
ANÍSYA. O-oh, my poor head! [Gives the money] Mind, Nikíta.
NIKÍTA. What are you afraid of? I'll hide it so that I'll not be able to find it myself. [Exit].
ANÍSYA [stands in terror] Oh dear, and supposing he …
MATRYÓNA. Well, is he dead?
ANÍSYA. Yes, he seems dead. He did not move when I took it.
MATRYÓNA. Go in, there's Akoulína.
ANÍSYA. Well there, I've done the sin and he has the money.…
MATRYÓNA. Have done and go in! There's Martha coming!
ANÍSYA. There now, I've trusted him. What's going to happen now? [Exit].
MARTHA [enters from one side, Akoulína enters from the other. To Akoulína] I should have come before, but I was at my daughter's. Well, how's the old man? Is he dying?
AKOULÍNA [puts down the clothes] Don't know, I've been to the river.
MARTHA [pointing to Matryóna] Who's that?
MATRYÓNA. I'm from Zoúevo. I'm Nikíta's mother from Zoúevo, my dearie. Good afternoon to you. He's withering, withering away, poor dear—your brother, I mean. He came out himself. “Send for my sister,” he said, “because,” said he … Dear me, why, I do believe, he's dead!
ANÍSYA [runs out screaming. Clings to a post, and begins wailing][4] Oh, oh, ah! who-o-o-m have you left me to, why-y-y have you dese-e-e-e-rted me—a miserable widow … to live my life alone … Why have you closed your bright eyes …
Enter Neighbour. Matryóna and Neighbour catch hold of Anísya under the arms to support her. Akoulína and Martha go into the hut. A crowd assembles.
A VOICE IN THE CROWD. Send for the old women to lay out the body.
MATRYÓNA [rolls up her sleeves] Is there any water in the copper? But I daresay the samovár is still hot. I'll also go and help a bit.
Curtain.
The same hut. Winter. Nine months have passed since Act II. Anísya, plainly dressed, sits before a loom weaving. Nan is on the oven.
MÍTRITCH [an old labourer, enters, and slowly takes off his outdoor things] Oh Lord, have mercy! Well, hasn't the master come home yet?
ANÍSYA. What?
MÍTRITCH. Nikíta isn't back from town, is he?
ANÍSYA. No.
MÍTRITCH. Must have been on the spree. Oh Lord!
ANÍSYA. Have you finished in the stackyard?
MÍTRITCH. What d'you think? Got it all as it should be, and covered everything with straw! I don't like doing things by halves! Oh Lord! holy Nicholas! [Picks at the corns on his hands] But it's time he was back.
ANÍSYA. What need has he to hurry? He's got money. Merry-making with that girl, I daresay …
MÍTRITCH. Why shouldn't one make merry if one has the money? And why did Akoulína go to town?
ANÍSYA. You'd better ask her. How do I know what the devil took her there!
MÍTRITCH. What! to town? There's all sorts of things to be got in town if one's got the means. Oh Lord!
NAN. Mother, I heard myself. “I'll get you a little shawl,” he says, blest if he didn't; “you shall choose it yourself,” he says. And she got herself up so fine; she put on her velveteen coat and the French shawl.
ANÍSYA. Really, a girl's modesty reaches only to the door. Step over the threshold and it's forgotten. She is a shameless creature.
MÍTRITCH. Oh my! What's the use of being ashamed? While there's plenty of money make merry. Oh Lord! It is too soon to have supper,
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