MERIK. Well, let ‘em look to their money, if they got any, but when it comes to clothes, I won’t touch ‘em. There’s nowhere to fence ‘em.
TIKHON. Where in tarnation are you heading?
MERIK. Kuban River.3
TIKHON. No kidding!
FEDYA. Kuban? Honest to God? (Raises himself up a bit.) That’s a glorious place! A kind o’ land, pals, you wouldn’t see if you dreamed three years running! Wide open spaces! They say there’s all the most of birds, wild game, all kinds o’ animals and—oh, Lordy! The grass grows all year round, the folks are salt o’ the earth, more land than they know what to do with! The gov’ment, they say . . . this soldier fella was telling me the other day . . . will give three hundred acres a head. Good times, dammit!
MERIK. Good times . . . Good times walks behind yer back . . . Where ya can’t see ‘em . . . If you can bite yer own elbow, you’ll see good times . . . Nothin’ but stupidity . . . (Looks at the benches and the people.) Looks like a chain gang . . . Greetings, you huddled masses!
YEFIMOVNA (to Merik). You got the evil eye! . . . The foul fiend’s inside you, my lad . . . Don’t you look at us.
MERIK. Greetings, you huddled masses!
YEFIMOVNA. Turn away! (Shoves Savva.) Savvushka, a wicked man’s got his eye on us! He’ll harm us, dearie! (to Merik.) Turn away, I said, you viper!
SAVVA. He won’t touch you, sister, he won’t touch you . . . God won’t let him.
MERIK. Greetings, good Christians! (Shrugs his shoulders.) Not a word! I don’t s’pose ye’re sleeping, you clumsy louts! Why don’t you say something?
YEFIMOVNA. Turn away those eyes! And turn away from your hellish pride!
MERIK. Shut up, you old bag! It wasn’t hellish pride but affection and a kind word I wanted to bestow on your bitter fate! You look like flies clustered together ‘gainst the cold—so, I felt sorry for ya, I wanted to speak a kind word, ease your misery, and you turn your snouts away! So what? Who needs it! (Walks over to Fedya.) And where would you be from?
FEDYA. Around here, the Khamonev factory town. The brickworks.
MERIK. Get the hell up!
FEDYA (raising himself a bit). What?
MERIK. Get up! Get up and out, I’m gonna bunk there . . .
FEDYA. Izat so . . . So it’s your spot, is it?
MERIK. It’s mine. Go lay on the ground!
FEDYA. Move along, you tramp . . . You don’t scare me.
MERIK. A wiseguy . . . Go on, clear out, no backtalk! Or you’ll be sorry, you stupid man!
TIKHON (to Fedya). Don’t talk back to him, lad! Let it go!
FEDYA. What right have you got to it? Bugs out his big fish eyes at me and thinks I’ll get skeered! (Collects his gear in his arms, goes and makes a bed on the floor.) Devil! (Lies down and covers up his head.)
MERIK (makes up a bed on the bench). I don’t figure you ever seen a devil if you call me one. Devils ain’t like me. (Lies down and puts his axe beside him.) Go to bed, little axe, little brother . . . Let me tuck in your shaft.
TIKHON. Where’d you get the axe?
MERIK Stole it. . . Stole it, and now I’m stuck with it like a kid with a broken toy: it’s a shame to throw it away and I got nowheres to keep it. Like a wife you can’t stand . . . Yeah . . . (Covers himself up.) Devils, pal, ain’t like me.
FEDYA (sticking his head out from under the covers). What are they like?
MERIK. They’re like steam, breath . . . Blow like this (he blows air), that’s what they’re like. No way to see ‘em.
VOICE FROM THE CORNER. If you sit under a harrow, you’ll see ‘em sure enough.
MERIK. I sat under one, never seen ‘em . . . Old women tell lies and so do stupid peasants . . . You ain’t gonna see a devil or a wood goblin or a ghost . . . Our eyes ain’t made so’s we can see everything . . . When I was a kid, I used to go to the forest at night on purpose to see a wood goblin . . . Used to be I’d shout and shout for a ha’nt, I’d call on the wood goblin and wouldn’t blink an eye, but never seen none. I’d go to the graveyard at night, tried to see ghosts—the old women tell lies. All kinds of animals I seen, but anything spooky—nor hide nor hair! Our eyes ain’t the right kind. . . .
VOICE FROM THE CORNER. Don’t say that, it so happens you do see ‘em
. . . In our village a peasant was gutting a wild boar . . . He’s ripping out the tripes, when one pops out of them!
SAVVA (raising himself a bit). Young fellas, don’t talk about the foul fiend! It’s a sin, my dears!
MERIK. Aaah . . . the gray beard! The skellington! (Laughs.) Ain’t no need to go to the graveyard, we got our own ghosts crawling out from under the floorboards to read us the riot act . . . A sin . . . It ain’t yer place with your stupid notions to preach to folks! Ye’re a benighted lot, ignoramuses . . . (Lights up a pipe.) My father was a peasant and he used to love to preach too. One time he steals a sack of apples from the village priest at night, brings it to us and preaches: “Watch out, you kids, don’t gobble up them apples before Transfiguration Day, ‘cause it’s a sin.” . . . Just like you . . . You mustn’t talk about the devil, but you can act like the devil . . . For example, just you take this old bag . . . (Points at Yefimovna.) She seen me as the Antichrist, but I’ll bet in her time she’s sold her soul to . . . the devil at least five times for womenfolk’s hanky-panky.
YEFIMOVNA. Pfoo, pfoo, pfoo!4 . . . May the power of the Cross protect us! (Hides her face in her hands.) Savvushka!
TIKHON. Why are you scaring us? Make you happy!
The door bangs in the wind.
Jesus Christ! . . . That’s what I call a wind!
MERIK (stretches). Ech, I should show you how strong I am!
The door bangs in the wind.
Test my strength against this here wind! It can’t rip the door off, but, gimme the chance, I’d tear up this whole barroom by the roots! (Stands up and lies down again.) It gets you down!
NAZAROVNA. Say a prayer, you heathen! What are you raving about?
YEFIMOVNA. Don’t rile him, dern him! He’s looking at us again! (to Merik.) Don’t look at us, you wicked man! Them eyes, them eyes, like Satan’s at morning mass!
SAVVA. Let ‘im look, godly sisters! Say a prayer, the eye won’t harm you . . .
BORTSOV. No, I can’t stand it! It’s more than I can bear! (Walks over to the bar.) Listen, Tikhon, I’m asking you for the last time . . . Just half a shot!
TIKHON (shakes his head no). Money!
BORTSOV. My God, haven’t I told you already! It’s all drunk up! Where am I supposed to get any? Would it ruin you if you gave me a drop of vodka on credit? A shot of vodka costs you a penny, but it will save me from agony! I’m in agony! I’m not faking it, it’s agony! Understand!