SashaThat’s no answer. You must know what you feel guilty about. Have you been forging banknotes or what?
IvanovDon’t joke.
SashaAre you guilty of not loving your wife any more? I don’t see how that’s your fault, you didn’t want to stop loving her. Or do you feel guilty because she saw us when I told you I loved you? – but you didn’t ask for that to happen either.
Ivanov(interrupting) And on and on . . . I fell in love, fell out of love, didn’t want to stop loving her . . . One shop-worn banality after another, none of it helps –
SashaIt’s so tiring talking to you. (Looks at a picture on the wall.) I like the painting of the dog. Was it done from life?
IvanovYes, it was. And our love affair is banality from beginning to end. He had lost heart, he felt himself drowning – then she appeared, so full of life and strength, and held out her hand to him . . . Very nice, but it’s only in novels, not life.
SashaIt’s life, too.
IvanovOh, I can see what a profound knowledge you have of real life. My moping around moves you to admiration and awe, you think you’ve found your very own Hamlet. As far as I’m concerned, my case and all its symptoms are the stuff of comedy and nothing more. People should be laughing themselves silly at my carrying on – but not you, you want to leap to my rescue, and save me by some act of heroism. God, I’m in such a fury with myself today, something’s got to give – maybe I’ll smash something or . . .
SashaThat’s it, that’s just what you should do – break something, smash up the place, scream your head off. You’re angry with me. It was stupid of me to come. So get angry, shout at me, stamp your feet, what are you waiting for?
Pause.
Well?
IvanovYou’re very funny.
SashaBetter! I think I saw a smile. Could you manage another. Just to please me?
Ivanov(laughs) Whenever you start trying to save me, your eyes become wide and so deep, as though you were gazing at a comet. Don’t move, your shoulder is all dusty. There. A man with that look looks like a cretin, but women have a way of making it seem kind and warm, instead of moronic. Why do you girls always turn aside healthy, cheerful men and as soon as they start going downhill you’re all over them. Is it really better to be a sick-nurse to a bleating failure than to be married to some fit, strong fellow . . .?
SashaYes, much better.
IvanovWhy?
SashaThere’s a lot that men don’t understand. Every girl is drawn to a man who needs her, because what we’re looking for is love that gives us something to do. Not passive love. Do you see? Active love. Men put their work first, love has to take second place – a chat, a walk in the garden, some pleasant times, a few tears on her grave, and that’s about it. But for us, love is the reason for living. Loving you means dreaming of curing you of your unhappiness, of following you to the ends of the earth. Where you go, there I’ll go – to the mountaintop or into the abyss. I’d love more than anything to spend all night doing your paperwork for you, or to walk by your side for miles and miles. Once, about three years ago, at harvest time, you showed up all covered in dust and sunburnt, you were exhausted, and you asked for a drink of water. I brought you a glass, but you were stretched out on the sofa, dead to the world. You slept the whole day, and I stood by the door keeping watch so that no one came in. I felt so happy. The more you do for love, the more love you feel.
IvanovActive love . . . huh! . . . Is it a mutation? – a schoolgirl’s daydream? – or is it love as love ought to be? (Shrugs his shoulders.) Who knows? (Cheerfully.) Sasha, God’s truth, as a man I’m as decent as the next. I know I sound off on all kinds of things but never in my life have I said, ‘Our women have got something wrong with them, ‘ or, ‘That woman there is going to come to no good.’ Heavens, all I feel is gratitude for them. You’re a dear, good girl, and you cheer me up, too. (Walks quickly off to one side.) You’ve got to go, Sasha! We’re forgetting ourselves.
SashaYes, it’s time to go. I’m afraid that honest doctor of yours might think it’s his duty to tell Anna Petrovna I’m here. Listen – go to your wife – now, this minute – and sit by her and keep sitting by her – for a year if you have to – or ten years. Be sad with her, beg her forgiveness, cry with her. Do your duty. And – most important – don’t neglect your work!
IvanovNot for the first time, I feel I’ve eaten the wrong kind of mushroom.
SashaWell, God bless you, Nikolay! Put me out of your head. Write me a line in a couple of weeks – I’d be grateful. I’ll write to you, too . . .
Borkin looks in through the door.
BorkinNikolay, may I? (Seeing Sasha.) Oh, excuse me – (Comes in.) Bon jour! (Bows.)
Sasha(embarrassed) Hello.
BorkinYou’ve put on weight, pretty one, it suits you.
Sasha(to Ivanov) Well, I’ll be going now, Nikolay Alekseevich . . . I’m off.
Sasha leaves.
BorkinShe’s a vision! I came on a prosaic matter of business and found poetry. (Sings.) ’You appeared like a bird towards the light . . .’
Ivanov walks up and down the stage agitatedly. Borkin sits down.
She’s got something about her the others haven’t got – don’t you think so, Nicolas? Something special, something not of this world . . . (Sighs.) As it happens, she’s the richest match in the district, but her mama is such an old bag, no one is willing to pop the question. Everything will go to Shurochka, but till then – ten thousand and a couple of ladles, and she’ll have to beg for that. (Rummages in his pocket.) Care for a cigar? De los Majores. (Holds out his cigar case.) They’re good.
Ivanov goes up to Borkin, catching his breath with rage.
IvanovGet out of this house, this instant!
Borkin pulls himself up slightly and drops his cigar.
Out! Now!
BorkinNicolas, what does this mean? Are you angry about something?
IvanovWhere did you get hold of those cigars? And don’t think I don’t know where you take that old man every day, and what you do there!
Borkin(shrugs his shoulders) And what’s that got to do with you?
IvanovYou bastard! You’ve given me a bad name all over the district with your crooked schemes. We have nothing in common and I’m asking you to leave my house right this minute.
BorkinI’m not angry with you, because I know you don’t mean it; you’re just irritable about something. Insult me as much as you like. (Picks up the cigar.) But it’s about time you got out of your sulk – you’re not a schoolboy.
IvanovDid you hear what I said? Do you think I’m an idiot?