getting married to her is something to think about.
Knurov. The other two daughters got married off.
Vozhevatov. They got married off all right, but you should ask them how sweet their life is. The oldest girl was taken away by some mountaineer, a young prince from the Caucasus. What fun that was! When he first saw her, he started to shake all over, he even began to cry. He stayed near her for a couple of weeks, he’d hold on to his dagger, and his eyes flashed so that nobody else came close. So they got married and went off, but they say he didn’t even get her to the Caucasus, that he killed her on the way from jealousy. The other girl got married too, to some sort of foreigner, only later it turned out that he was no foreigner at all but a card shark.
Knurov. Madame Ogudalov wasn’t dumb the way she figured it out. She doesn’t have any money and can’t give a dowry, so she keeps open house and receives everybody.
Vozhevatov. She likes to have fun herself, but she just doesn’t have the means for such a life.
Knurov. Then where does she get the money?
Vozhevatov. The suitors pay. If a man likes the daughter, than he shells out. Later on the mother will want money from the groom to pay for the dowry, only he shouldn’t ask for the dowry.
Knurov. Well, I don’t think it’s just the suitors who pay for it. Take you, for example. It must cost you a pretty penny to visit the family so often.
Vozhevatov. It won’t ruin me, Moky Parmenych. What’s a man to do? He has to pay for his pleasures, they don’t come free. And being in their home is a great pleasure.
Knurov. It really is a pleasure, you’re right there.
Vozhevatov. And yet you yourself are almost never there.
Knurov. It’s awkward; there’s so much riffraff there. You run into them later and they exchange greetings, then worm their way into a conversation. Karandyshov is one of them. What kind of an acquaintance is he for me!
Vozhevatov. Yes, their home is like a bazaar.
Knurov. So what’s the good of it? One fellow goes up to Larisa Dmitriyevna with his compliments, another with tender remarks, and they buzz away so you can’t get in a single word with her. I’d like to see her more often when she’s alone, without any interference.
Vozhevatov. Somebody ought to marry her.
Knurov. Marry her! Not everybody can, and not everybody even wants to. Me, for example, I’m a married man.
Vozhevatov. Then there’s nothing to be done. The grapes are pretty but not for picking,[2] Moky Parmenych.
Knurov. You think so?
Vozhevatov. That’s the way it seems. They don’t follow those procedures. There were a few times when they could have, but they weren’t tempted. It’s got to be marriage even if that means Karandyshov.
Knurov. But it would be nice to make a trip to the Paris exposition with a girl like that.
Vozhevatov. Yes, that wouldn’t be boring, a pleasant trip that. What plans you have, Moky Parmenych!
Knurov. And you’ve never had any plans like that?
Vozhevatov. How could I! I’m green at such things.
I just don’t have any boldness with women. You know, I was brought up in a terribly moral, old-fashioned way.
Knurov. Oh come now! Your chances are better than mine; you have youth, a big thing. And you won’t begrudge the money; you’re buying the boat cheap, so you can take it out of the profits. Still, you must realize it would cost you as much as the Swallow.
Vozhevatov. Every piece of goods has its price, Moky Parmenych. I may be young, but I won’t overdo it. I won’t give any more than I have to.
Knurov. Don’t guarantee it! At your age it wouldn’t take much to fall in love, and then we’d see what calculations you’d make!
Vozhevatov. No, Moky Parmenych, somehow or other I don’t notice that sort of thing in myself.
Knurov. What sort of thing?
Vozhevatov. What they call love.
Knurov. That’s commendable, you’ll make a good merchant. All the same, you’re a lot closer to her than the others.
Vozhevatov. But what does my being close to her amount to? Sometimes I’ll pour her an extra glass of champagne when her mother’s not looking, learn a song from her, bring her novels, the kind they don’t give girls to read.
Knurov. In other words, you’re corrupting her a little.
Vozhevatov. What’s that to me! After all, I’m not forcing myself on her. Why should I worry about her morals? I’m not her guardian.
Knurov. I just can’t get over it. Does Larisa Dmitriyevna really have no other suitors besides Karandyshov?
Vozhevatov. She had some, but she’s terribly naive.
Knurov. Naive, how? You mean she’s stupid?
Vozhevatov. She’s not stupid, but she’s not shrewd at all, she doesn’t take after her mother in that. Her mother’s always shrewd and full of flattering, but she for no reason at all will suddenly come out with something she doesn’t have to.
Knurov. You mean the truth?
Vozhevatov. Yes, the truth. But that’s something that young women without a dowry just can’t do. If she likes somebody, she doesn’t hide it at all. Last year Sergey Sergeyich Paratov showed up, and she couldn’t see enough of him. He kept coming for a couple of months, beat away all the other suitors, and then he flew the coop. Nobody knew where he disappeared to.
Knurov. Whatever possessed him to do that?
Vozhevatov. Who knows? He’s a hard one to figure out. But you should have seen how she loved him, she almost died from grief. How sentimental she was! (He laughs.) She set out to try and catch up with him, but her mother got her at the second stop and brought her back.
Knurov. And were there any suitors after Paratov?
Vozhevatov. Two came from somewhere. One was an old man with the gout. Then there was a manager for some prince or other; that manager had gotten rich, but he was always drunk. Larisa didn’t want to have anything to do with them, but she had to be nice to them, Mama’s orders.
Knurov. Her lot is not a happy one.
Vozhevatov. No, it’s even absurd. Sometimes there were a few tears in her eyes, and you could
Altered quotation from the fable “The Fox and the Grapes”
