style="font-size:15px;"> FEDYA. The chief thing about a town is that it should be clean. If it’s dusty, it must be watered; if it’s dirty, it must be cleaned. There ought to be big houses… a theatre… police… cabs, which… I’ve lived in a town myself, I understand.
BORTSOV. Just a little glass. I’ll pay you for it later.
TIHON. That’s enough now.
BORTSOV. I ask you! Do be kind to me!
TIHON. Get away!
BORTSOV. You don’t understand me…. Understand me, you fool, if there’s a drop of brain in your peasant’s wooden head, that it isn’t I who am asking you, but my inside, using the words you understand, that’s what’s asking! My illness is what’s asking! Understand!
TIHON. We don’t understand anything…. Get back!
BORTSOV. Because if I don’t have a drink at once, just you understand this, if I don’t satisfy my needs, I may commit some crime. God only knows what I might do! In the time you’ve kept this place, you rascal, haven’t you seen a lot of drunkards, and haven’t you yet got to understand what they’re like? They’re diseased! You can do anything you like to them, but you must give them vodka! Well, now, I implore you! Please! I humbly ask you! God only knows how humbly!
TIHON. You can have the vodka if you pay for it.
BORTSOV. Where am I to get the money? I’ve drunk it all! Down to the ground! What can I give you? I’ve only got this coat, but I can’t give you that. I’ve nothing on underneath…. Would you like my cap? [Takes it off and gives it to TIHON]
TIHON. [Looks it over] Hm…. There are all sorts of caps…. It might be a sieve from the holes in it….
FEDYA. [Laughs] A gentleman’s cap! You’ve got to take it off in front of the mam’selles. How do you do, goodbye! How are you?
TIHON. [Returns the cap to BORTSOV] I wouldn’t give anything for it. It’s muck.
BORTSOV. If you don’t like it, then let me owe you for the drink! I’ll bring in your five copecks on my way back from town. You can take it and choke yourself with it then! Choke yourself! I hope it sticks in your throat! [Coughs] I hate you!
TIHON. [Banging the bar-counter with his fist] Why do you keep on like that? What a man! What are you here for, you swindler?
BORTSOV. I want a drink! It’s not I, it’s my disease! Understand that!
TIHON. Don’t you make me lose my temper, or you’ll soon find yourself outside!
BORTSOV. What am I to do? [Retires from the bar-counter] What am I to do? [Is thoughtful.]
EFIMOVNA. It’s the devil tormenting you. Don’t you mind him, sir. The damned one keeps whispering, “Drink! Drink!” And you answer him, “I shan’t drink! I shan’t drink!” He’ll go then.
FEDYA. It’s drumming in his head…. His stomach’s leading him on! [Laughs] Your houour’s a happy man. Lie down and go to sleep! What’s the use of standing like a scarecrow in the middle of the inn! This isn’t an orchard!
BORTSOV. [Angrily] Shut up! Nobody spoke to you, you donkey.
FEDYA. Go on, go on! We’ve seen the like of you before! There’s a lot like you tramping the high road! As to being a donkey, you wait till I’ve given you a clout on the ear and you’ll howl worse than the wind. Donkey yourself! Fool! [Pause] Scum!
NAZAROVNA. The old man may be saying a prayer, or giving up his soul to God, and here are these unclean ones wrangling with one another and saying all sorts of… Have shame on yourselves!
FEDYA. Here, you cabbage-stalk, you keep quiet, even if you are in a public-house. Just you behave like everybody else.
BORTSOV. What am I to do? What will become of me? How can I make him understand? What else can I say to him? [To TIHON] The blood’s boiling in my chest! Uncle Tihon! [Weeps] Uncle Tihon!
SAWA. [Groans] I’ve got shooting-pains in my leg, like bullets of fire…. Little mother, pilgrim.
EFIMOVNA. What is it, little father?
SAVVA. Who’s that crying?
EFIMOVNA. The gentleman.
SAVVA. Ask him to shed a tear for me, that I might die in Vologda. Tearful prayers are heard.
BORTSOV. I’m not praying, grandfather! These aren’t tears! Just juice! My soul is crushed; and the juice is running. [Sits by SAVVA] Juice! But you wouldn’t understand! You, with your darkened brain, wouldn’t understand. You people are all in the dark!
SAVVA. Where will you find those who live in the light?
BORTSOV. They do exist, grandfather…. They would understand!
SAVVA. Yes, yes, dear friend…. The saints lived in the light…. They understood all our griefs…. You needn’t even tell them…. and they’ll understand…. Just by looking at your eyes…. And then you’ll have such peace, as if you were never in grief at all — it will all go!
FEDYA. And have you ever seen any saints?
SAVVA. It has happened, young man…. There are many of all sorts on this earth. Sinners, and servants of God.
BORTSOV. I don’t understand all this…. [Gets up quickly] What’s the use of talking when you don’t understand, and what sort of a brain have I now? I’ve only an instinct, a thirst! [Goes quickly to the counter] Tihon, take my coat! Understand? [Tries to take it off] My coat…
TIHON. And what is there under your coat? [Looks under it] Your naked body? Don’t take it off, I shan’t have it…. I’m not going to burden my soul with a sin.
[Enter MERIK.]
BORTSOV. Very well, I’ll take the sin on myself! Do you agree?
MERIK. [In silence takes of his outer cloak and remains in a sleeveless jacket. He carries an axe in his belt] A vagrant may sweat where a bear will freeze. I am hot. [Puts his axe on the floor and takes off his jacket] You get rid of a pailful of sweat while you drag one leg out of the mud. And while you are dragging it out, the other one goes farther in.
EFIMOVNA. Yes, that’s true… is the rain stopping, dear?
MERIK. [Glancing at EFIMOVNA] I don’t talk to old women. [A pause.]
BORTSOV. [To TIHON] I’ll take the sin on myself. Do you hear me or don’t you?
TIHON. I don’t want to hear you, get away!
MERIK. It’s as dark as if the sky was painted with pitch. You can’t see your own nose. And the rain beats into your face like a snowstorm! [Picks up his clothes and axe.]
FEDYA. It’s a good thing for the likes of us thieves. When the cat’s away the mice will play.
MERIK. Who says that?
FEDYA.
