Plays by Aleksandr Nikolaevich Ostrovsky Part 62

TISHKA. He sure has.

PODKHALYuZIN. Talk sense, you little devil! Was he going to come again?

TISHKA. He was that!

PODKHALYuZIN. Well, you can run along, now.

TISHKA. Do you want any vodka?

PODKHALYuZIN. Yes, I do. I'll have to treat Sysoy Psoich. [_He gives money_] Buy a bottle, but you keep the change for gingerbread. But see that you hurry, so they don't miss you here!

TISHKA. I'll be home before a short-haired girl can twist her braids. Off I go, hippity-hop.

SCENE III

PODKHALYuZIN _alone_

PODKHALYuZIN. What a misfortune! Here's where a misfortune has come upon us! What's to be done now? Well, it's a bad business. Now we can't avoid declaring ourselves bankrupt. Well, suppose the boss should have something left over; but where do I come in? What shall I do with myself? Sell junk in the second-hand market! I've worked, I've worked about twenty years, and then to be sent rambling! Now, how am I going to settle this matter?

Perhaps with merchandise? Here, he said to sell the notes. [_He draws them out and reads them_] It must be that it's going to be possible to profit by it. [_He walks about the room_] They say a fellow ought to know what conscience is. Well, of course he ought to; but in what sense must he understand that? Everybody has conscience where a good man is concerned; but when the man himself is cheating others, then where does your conscience come in? Samson Silych is a very rich merchant, and has hatched up this whole business now just to kill time, so to speak. But I'm a poor man! If I should make a little extra profit in this business--then there can't be any sin in it; because he himself is acting dishonorably, and going against the law. And why should I pity him? The course is clear; well, don't slip up on it: he follows his politics, and you look out for your interest. I'd have seen the thing through with him, but I don't feel like it. Hm!--What day-dreams will come into a man's head! Of course, Olimpiada Samsonovna is a cultivated young lady; and it must be said, there're none on earth like her; but of course that suitor won't take her now; he'll say, "Give me money!" But where are you going to get money? And now she can't marry a n.o.bleman because she hasn't any money. Sooner or later they'll have to marry her to a merchant. [_He walks on in silence_]

I'll raise the dough, and bow to Samson Silych. "Samson Silych," says I, "I'm at an age when I must think about the continuance of posterity; and I, now, Samson Silych, haven't grudged my sweat and blood for your tranquillity. To be sure, now, Olimpiada Samsonovna is a cultivated young lady; but I, Samson Silych, am no common trash; you can see for yourself, if you please. I have capital, and I'm a good manager in that line." Why shouldn't he give her to me? Ain't I a man? I haven't been detected in any knavery; I'm respectful to my elders. But in addition to all that, as Samson Silych has mortgaged his house and shops to me, I can frighten him with the mortgage. Knowing as I do the disposition of Samson Silych to be what it is, that may very easily happen. This is the way with his sort: once they get an idea into their head, you simply can't drive it out. It's just as when, three years ago, he wanted to shave his beard. No matter how much Agrafena Kondratyevna begged and wept, "No," he said, "afterwards I'll let it grow again; but for the time being I'll have my own way." And he took and shaved it. It's the same way with this business; if I make a hit with him, or the idea strikes him all right--then it's sweet wedding-bells to-morrow, and that's all, and don't you dare argue! I could jump from the tower of Ivan the Great for the joy of it.

_Enter_ TISHKA _with the bottle._

SCENE IV

PODKHALYuZIN _and_ TISHKA

TISHKA. [_Coming in with the bottle_] Here I am! I've come.

PODKHALYuZIN. Listen, Tishka, is Ustinya Naumovna here?

TISHKA. Up-stairs there. And the shyster's coming.

PODKHALYuZIN. Well, put the vodka on the table, and bring some relishes.

TISHKA _puts down the vodka and brings relishes; then goes out._

SCENE V

PODKHALYuZIN _and_ RISPOLoZHENSKY

PODKHALYuZIN. Ah, my respects to you, sir!

RISPOLoZHENSKY. Mine to you, my dear Lazar Elizarych, mine to you! Fine. I think, now, perhaps there's something I can do. Is that vodka, near you?

I'll just take a thimbleful, Lazar Elizarych. My hands have begun to shake mornings, especially the right one. When I go to write something, Lazar Elizarych, I have to hold it with my left. I swear I do. But take a sip of vodka, and it seems to do it good. [_Drinks._

PODKHALYuZIN. Why do your hands shake?

RISPOLoZHENSKY. [_Sits down by the table_] From anxiety, Lazar Elizarych; from anxiety, my boy.

PODKHALYuZIN. Indeed, sir! But I suppose it's because you're plundering people overmuch. G.o.d is punishing you for your unrighteousness.

RISPOLoZHENSKY. He, he, he!--Lazar Elizarych! How could I plunder anybody?

My business is of a small sort. I'm like a little bird, picking up small grains.

PODKHALYuZIN. You deal in small quant.i.ties, of course?

RISPOLoZHENSKY. You'd deal even in small quant.i.ties if you couldn't get anything else. Well, it wouldn't matter so much if I were alone; but, you see, I have a wife and four kiddies. They all want to eat, the little dears. One says, "Daddy, give me!" Another says, "Daddy, give me!" And I'm a man who feels strongly for his family. Here I entered one boy in the high school; he has to have a uniform, and then something else. And what's to become of the old shack?--Why, how much shoe-leather you wear out simply walking from Butirky to the Voskresensky Gates.

PODKHALYuZIN. That's right, sir.

RISPOLoZHENSKY. And why do you make the trip? You write a little pet.i.tion for one man, you register somebody else in the citizen cla.s.s. Some days you'll not bring home half a ruble in silver. I vow, I'm not lying! Then what're you going to live on? Lazar Elizarych, I'll just take a thimbleful.

[_Drinks_] "So," I think, "I'll just drop in on Lazar Elizarych; perhaps he'll spare me a little change."

PODKHALYuZIN. For what sort of knavery, sir?

RISPOLoZHENSKY. What do you mean by knavery! Come, that's a sin, Lazar Elizarych! Don't I serve you? I'm your servant till the grave; command me what you want. And I fixed up the mortgage for you!

PODKHALYuZIN. See here, you've been paid! And it's not your business to keep harping on the same string!

RISPOLoZHENSKY. Just so, Lazar Elizarych, I've been paid. Just so! Ah, Lazar Elizarych, poverty has crushed me!

PODKHALYuZIN. Poverty crushed you! Oh, that happens, sir. [_He approaches and sits down by the table_] Well, sir, I have a little extra money; I've no place to put it.

[_Lays his pocketbook on the table_.

RISPOLoZHENSKY. What, you, Lazar Elizarych? Extra money? I'm afraid you're joking.

PODKHALYuZIN. All joking aside, sir.

RISPOLoZHENSKY. Well, if you have a little extra money, why not help a poor man? G.o.d'll reward you for it.

PODKHALYuZIN. But d'you need much?

RISPOLoZHENSKY. Give me just three rubles.

PODKHALYuZIN. Is that all, sir?

RISPOLoZHENSKY. Well, give me five.