ACT III
SCENE I
The Street. The gates of the Kabanovs' house, a garden seat before the gates.
MME. KABANOVA and FEKLUSHA (sitting on the bench).
FEKLUSHA. The end of the world is at hand, ma'am, by every sign and token, Marfa Ignatievna, the end of the world is at hand. It's peace and paradise still here in your town, but in other towns it's simply Sodom, ma'am: the noise, the bustle, the incessant traffic! The people keep running, one one way, and one another.
MME. KABANOVA.
We've no need to hurry, my dear, we live without haste.
FEKLUSHA. No, ma'am; there is peace and quietness in this town, because there are many people, you for instance, adorned with virtues, as with flowers; that's why everything is done decorously and tranquilly. Why, what is the meaning of all that haste and bustle, ma'am? It is vanity, to be sure! In Moscow now: the folk run to and fro; there's no knowing for why. It is all vanity. It is a people, full of vanity, ma'am, and so it runs to and fro. Each one fancies he's hurrying on business; he hastens, poor fellow, doesn't recognise people; it seems to him that someone is beckoning him; but when he gets to the place, sure enough it's empty, there's nothing there, it's only a dream. And he is downcast and disappointed. And another one fancies that he's overtaking someone he knows. Anyone looking on can see in a trice that there's no one; but it seems to him in his vanity and delusion that he's overtaking someone. Vanity, to be sure, is like a fog about them. Here among you on a fine evening like this, it's not often anyone even comes out to sit at his gate; but in Moscow now there's walking and playing, and a fearful racket going on in the street; a continual roar. And what's more, Marfa Ignatievna, ma'am, they've harnessed a fiery serpent to drive: all, look you, for the sake of more speed.
MME. KABANOVA.
I have heard tell of it, my dear.
FEKLUSHA. But I, ma'am, have seen it with my own eyes; no doubt, others, in blindness and vanity, see nothing, so it seems a machine to them, but I saw it doing like this (spreading out her fingers) with its paws. And a roar, too, that folks of righteous life hear for what it is.
MME. KABANOVA. You can call it anything you like, call it a machine, if you will; the people is foolish and will believe anything. But as for me you might load me with gold, I wouldn't drive with such a thing.
FEKLUSHA. The very idea, ma'am! The Lord preserve us from such a thing. And let me tell you too, Marfa Ignatievna, ma'am, a vision I had in Moscow. I went out early in the morning, it was just dawn, and on a high, very high house, on the roof, I saw someone standing, with a black face. You understand whom I mean. And he kept moving his hands, as though he were scattering something, but nothing fell. Then I divined that he was the enemy sowing tares, and the people in their blindness see it not, and gather them up. And that is why they run to and fro so, and the women among them are all so thin, and never get plump and comfortable, but always look as if they had lost something, or were looking for something, and that careworn they are, you feel sorry for them.
MME. KABANOVA. Anything is possible, my dear, in our times, one can't be surprised at anything.
FEKLUSHA. Hard times they are, Marfa Ignatievna, ma'am, very hard. Already the time has begun diminishing.
MME. KABANOVA.
How is that? diminishing, my dear?
FEKLUSHA. We, of course—how should we observe it in our blindness and vanity? but wise people have observed that time has grown shorter with us. Once the summer and the winter dragged on endlessly, you got tired of looking for the end of them, but now, before one's time to look about one, they've flown. The days and the hours still seem the same, of course; but the time keeps growing shorter and shorter, for our sins. That's what the learned folk say about it.
MME. KABANOVA.
And worse than that will be, my dear.
FEKLUSHA.
I only trust we shan't live to see it.
MME. KABANOVA.
Maybe, we shall. [Enter Dikoy.
SCENE II
The Same and DIKOY.
MME. KABANOVA.
What brings you abroad so late, old friend?
DIKOY.
Why, who's to hinder me being out, I should like to know?
MME. KABANOVA.
Who wants to hinder you, indeed!
DIKOY. Well, then what's the use of talking? Whose control am I under, hey? What next will you say? What the devil….
MME. KABANOVA. Now then, keep a little check on your tongue! You'd better look out for someone else to talk to! I won't let you off so easily as some do! Go your way wherever you're going. Come indoors, Feklusha.
[Gets up.
DIKOY. Wait a bit, old friend, wait a bit! Don't be angry. You're in no hurry to get home; your home's not many miles away. Here it is!
MME. KABANOVA.
If you've come on business, don't shout at me, but speak out plainly.
DIKOY.
I've no business, but I'm drunk, that's what it is!
MME. KABANOVA.
Well, would you have me praise you for that, hey?
DIKOY. Needn't praise or blame. Only I'm drunk, and that's all about it. I can't get over it till I've slept it off.
MME. KABANOVA.
Well, go and have a sleep then.
DIKOY.
Where am I to go?
MME. KABANOVA.
Home, of course, where else?
DIKOY.
But if I don't want to go home.
MME. KABANOVA.
Why not, allow me to ask you?
DIKOY.
Because I've a row going on there.
MME. KABANOVA. Why, who is there to quarrel with? You're the only quarrelsome one there, you know.
DIKOY.
Well, what if I am quarrelsome, hey? What of it, hey?
MME. KABANOVA. Oh, nothing. Only there's no great glory in doing battle all your life with women, that's all.
DIKOY.
Well, I suppose they ought to obey me! Or am I to obey them, hey?
MME. KABANOVA. I really wonder at you; with all the crowd of folks in your house, not a single one can do anything to your liking.
DIKOY.
That's so!
MME. KABANOVA.
Come, what do you want of me?
DIKOY. Well, talk me out of my temper. You're the only person in the whole town who knows how to talk to me.
MME. KABANOVA. Go in, Feklusha, and order a little something to be served. (Feklusha goes.) Let's go indoors.
DIKOY.
No, I'm not going indoors, I'm worse indoors!
MME. KABANOVA.
How have they put you into such a rage?