her? No. There is no question of that. She is part of a life that was ended too long ago. I have only myself to think of now. What should I gain by loving her? Understand, I am an outlaw, an escaped convict; a word can send me back to the mines. I must hide myself, the patrols are everywhere.... Even here I am not safe. [Locks the street door.]
Ast. Why have you returned? Why have you spoilt what you began so well? Having resolved twenty years ago to vanish like a dead man....
Sasha. Ah! if they had killed me then I would have died willingly. But after twenty years remorse goes, pity goes, everything goes; entombed in the mines, but still alive.... I was worn out. I could bear it no longer. Others were escaping, I escaped with them.
Ast. This will break her heart. She has made an angel of you. The lamp is always burning....
Sasha [going to the eikon corner with a glass of vodka in his hand]. Aha! Alexander Nevski, my patron saint. I drink to you, my friend: but I cannot congratulate you on your work. As a guardian angel you have been something of a failure. And what is this? [taking a photograph]. Myself! Who would have known this for my portrait? Look at the angel child, with the soft cheeks and the pretty curly hair. How innocent and good I looked! [bringing it down]. And even then I was deceiving my mother. She never understood that a young man must live, he must live. We are animals first; we have instincts that need something warmer, something livelier, than the tame dull round of home. [He throws down the photograph; Fomá replaces it.] And even now I have no intention of dying. Yet how am I to live? I cannot work; the mines have sucked out all my strength. Has my mother any money?
Ast. [to Fomá]. What can we do with him?
Sasha. Has my mother any money?
Ast. Money? Of course not. Would she let lodgings if she had? Listen. I am a poor man myself, but I will give you ten roubles and your railway fare to go to St. Petersburg.
Sasha. St. Petersburg? And what shall I do there when I have spent the ten roubles?
Ast. [shrugging his shoulders]. How do I know? Live there, die there, only stay away from here.
Fomá. What right have you to send him away? Why do you suppose that she will not be glad to see him? Let her see her saint bedraggled, and love him still—that is what true love means. You have regaled her with lies all these years; but now it is no longer possible. [A knocking at the door.] She is at the door.
Ast. [to Sasha]. Come with me. [To Fomá.] He must go out by the other way.
Fomá [stopping them]. No, I forbid it. It is the hand of God that has led him here. Go and unlock the door. [Astéryi shrugs his shoulders, and goes to unlock the door.] [To Sasha, hiding him.] Stand here a moment till I have prepared your mother.
[Enter Praskóvya and Varvára, carrying a box.]
Pras. Why is the door locked? Were you afraid without old Praskóvya to protect you? Here is the money. Now let me count it. Have you two been quarreling? There are fifty roubles in this bag, all in little pieces of silver; it took me two years.
Fomá. How you must have denied yourself, Praskóvya, and all to build a hut in a churchyard!
Pras. On what better thing could money be spent?
Fomá. You are so much in love with your tomb-house, I believe that you would be sorry if it turned out that your son was not dead, but alive.
Pras. Why do you say such things? You know that I should be glad. Ah! if I could but see him once again as he was then, and hold him in my arms!
Fomá. But he would not be the same now.
Pras. If he were different, he would not be my son.
Fomá. What if all these years he had been an outcast, living in degradation?
Pras. Who has been eating here? Who has been drinking here? Something has happened! Tell me what it is.
Ast. Your son is not dead.
Pras. Not dead? Why do you say it so sadly? No, it is not true. I do not believe it. How can I be joyful at the news if you tell it so sadly? If he is alive, where is he? Let me see him.
Ast. He is here.
[Sasha comes forward.]
Pras. No, no! Tell me that that is not him ... my son whom I have loved all these years, my son that lies in the churchyard. [To Sasha.] Don't be cruel to me. Say that you are not my son; you cannot be my son.
Sasha. You know that I am your son.
Pras. My son is dead; he was murdered. I buried his body in the Tróitski Cemetery.
Sasha. But you see that I was not murdered. Touch me; feel me. I am alive. I and Adámek fought; it was not Adámek that slew me, it was....
Pras. No, no! I want to hear no more. You have come to torment me. Only say what you want of me, anything, and I will do it, if you will leave me in peace.
Sasha. I want food and clothing; I want shelter; I must have money.
Pras. You will go if I give you money? Yes? Say that you will go, far, far away, and never come back to tell lies.... But I have no money to give; I am a poor woman.
Sasha. Come, what's all this?
Pras. No, no! I need it; I can't spare it. What I have I have starved myself to get. Two roubles, five roubles, even ten roubles I will give you, if you will go far, far away....
Fomá. Before he can travel we must bribe some peasant to lend him his passport.
Pras. Has he no passport then?
Fomá. No.
[A knock. Enter Spiridón.]
Spir. Peace be on this house. May the saints watch over all of you! Astéryi Ivanovitch will have told you of my proposal.
Pras. Yes, I have heard of it, Spiridón.
Fomá. Good-by, Spiridón; there is no work for you here. That is all over.
Pras. Why do you say that that is all over?
Fomá. There will be no tomb-house to build.
Pras. No tomb-house? How dare you say so? He is laughing at us, Spiridón. The tomb-house that we have planned together, with the table in the middle, and the two chairs.... Do not listen to him, Spiridón. At last I have money enough; let us count it together.
Sasha. Give me my share, mother!
Pras. I have no money for you.
Sasha [advancing]. I must have money.
Pras. You shall not touch it.
Sasha. I will not go unless you give me money.
Pras. It is not mine. I have promised it all to Spiridón. Help me, Astéryi Ivanovitch;
