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The Live Corpse, a play by Leo Tolstoy |
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Act 4 Scene 1 |
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_ ACT IV SCENE I [A private room in a restaurant. A waiter shows in Fedya and Ivan Petrovich Alexandrov.] WAITER. Here, please. No one will disturb you here. I'll bring some paper directly. IVAN PETROVICH. Protasov, I'll come in too. FEDYA [seriously] If you like, but I'm busy and ... All right, come in. IVAN PETROVICH. You wish to reply to their demands? I'll tell you what to say. I should not do it that way--always speak straight out, and act with decision. FEDYA [to waiter] A bottle of champagne! [Exit waiter.] FEDYA [taking out a revolver and putting it on the table] Wait a bit! IVAN PETROVICH. What's that? Do you want to shoot yourself? You can if you like. I understand you! They wish to humiliate you, and you will show them the sort of man you are! You will kill yourself with a revolver, and them with magnanimity. I understand you. I understand everything, because I am a genius. FEDYA. Of course--of course. Only ... [Enter waiter with paper and ink]. FEDYA [covers the revolver with a napkin] Uncork it--let's have a drink. [They drink. Fedya writes] Wait a bit! IVAN PETROVICH. Here's to your ... great journey! You know I'm above all this. I'm not going to restrain you! Life and death are alike to Genius. I die in life, and live in death. You will kill yourself that two people should pity you; and I--I shall kill myself that the whole world may understand what it has lost. I won't hesitate, or think about it! I seize it [snatches revolver]--now! And all is over. But it is too soon yet. [Lays down revolver] Nor shall I write anything; they must understand it themselves.... Oh, you ... FEDYA [writing] Wait a bit. IVAN PETROVICH. Pitiful people! They fuss, they bustle, and don't understand--don't understand anything at all.... I'm not talking to you, I am only expressing my thoughts. And, after all, what does humanity need? Very little--only to value its geniuses. But they always are executed, persecuted, tortured.... No! I'm not going to be your toy! I will drag you out into the open! No-o-o! Hypocrites! FEDYA [having finished writing, drinks and reads over his letter] Go away, please! IVAN PETROVICH. Go away? Well, good-bye then! I am not going to restrain you. I shall do the same. But not yet. I only want to tell you ... FEDYA. All right! You'll tell me afterwards. And now, dear chap, just one thing: give this to the manager [gives him money] and ask if a parcel and a letter have come for me.... Please do! IVAN PETROVICH. All right--then you'll wait for me? I have still something important to tell you--something that you will not hear in this world nor in the next, at any rate not till I come there.... Am I to let him have _all_ of this? FEDYA. As much as is necessary. [Exit Ivan Petrovich.] [Fedya sighs with relief; locks the door behind Ivan Petrovich; takes up the revolver, cocks it, puts it to his temple; shudders, and carefully lowers it again. Groans.] FEDYA. No; I can't! I can't! I can't! [Knock at the door] Who's there? [MAsha's voice from outside] It's me! FEDYA. Who's "me"? Oh, Masha ... [opens door]. MASHA. I've been to your place, to Popov's, to Afremov's, and guessed that you must be here. [Sees revolver] That's a nice thing! There's a fool! A regular fool! Is it possible you really meant to? FEDYA. No, I couldn't. MASHA. Do I count for nothing at all? You heathen! You had no pity for me? Oh, Theodore Vasilyevich, it's a sin, a sin! In return for my love ... FEDYA. I wished to release them. I promised to, and I can't lie. MASHA. And what about me? FEDYA. What about you? It would have set you free too. Is it better for you to be tormented by me? MASHA. Seems it's better. I can't live without you. FEDYA. What sort of life could you have with me? You'd have cried a bit, and then gone on living your own life. MASHA. I shouldn't have cried at all! Go to the devil, if you don't pity me! [Cries]. FEDYA. MAsha, dearest! I meant to do it for the best. MASHA. Best for yourself! FEDYA [smiles] How's that, when I meant to kill myself? MASHA. Of course, best for yourself! But what is it you want? Tell me. FEDYA. What I want? I want a great deal. MASHA. Well, what? What? FEDYA. First of all, to keep my promise. That is the first thing, and quite sufficient. To lie, and do all the dirty work necessary to get a divorce ... I can't! MASHA. Granted that it's horrid--I myself ... FEDYA. Next, they must really be free--my wife and he. After all, they are good people; and why should they suffer? That's the second thing. MASHA. Well, there isn't much good in her, if she's thrown you over. FEDYA. She didn't--I threw her over. MASHA. All right, all right! It's always you. She is an angel! What else! FEDYA. This--that you are a good, dear girlie--and that I love you, and if I live I shall ruin you. MASHA. That's not your business. I know quite well what will ruin me. FEDYA [sighs] But above all, above all ... What use is my life? Don't I know that I am a lost good-for-nothing? I am a burden to myself and to everybody--as your father said. I'm worthless.... MASHA. What rubbish! I shall stick to you. I've stuck to you already, and there's an end of it! As to your leading a bad life, drinking and going on the spree--well, you're a living soul! Give it up, and have done with it! FEDYA. That's easily said. MASHA. Well, then, do it. FEDYA. Yes, when I look at you I feel as if I could really do anything. MASHA. And so you shall! Yes, you'll do it! [Sees the letter] What's that? You've written to them? What have you written? FEDYA. What have I written?... [Takes the letter and is about to tear it up] It's no longer wanted now. MASHA [snatches the letter] You've said you would kill yourself? Yes? You did not mention the revolver--only said that you'd kill yourself? FEDYA. Yes, that I should be no more. MASHA. Give it me--give it, give it!... Have you read _What to Do_? FEDYA. I think I have. MASHA. It's a tiresome novel, but there's one very, very good thing in it. That what's his name?--Rakhmanov--goes and pretends he has drowned himself. And you--can you swim? FEDYA. No. MASHA. That's all right. Let me have your clothes--everything, and your pocket-book too. FEDYA. How can I? MASHA. Wait a bit, wait, wait! Let's go home; then you'll change your clothes. FEDYA. But it will be a fraud. MASHA. All right! You go to bathe, your clothes remain on the bank, in the pocket is your pocket-book and this letter. FEDYA. Yes, and then? MASHA. And then? Why, then we'll go off together and live gloriously. [Enter Ivan Petrovich.] IVAN PETROVICH. There now! And the revolver? I'll take it. MASHA. Take it; take it! We're off. [Curtain.] _ |
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