DIKOY.
I've been so all day since the morning.
MME. KABANOVA.
I suppose they've been asking for money.
DIKOY. As if they were in league together, damn them. One after another the whole day long they've been at me.
MME. KABANOVA.
No doubt you'll have to give it them, or they wouldn't persist.
DIKOY. I know that; but what would you have me do, since I've a temper like that? Why, I know that I must pay, still I can't do it with a good will. You're a friend of mine, and I've to pay you something, and you come and ask me for it, I'm bound to swear at you! Pay I will, if pay I must, but I must swear too. For you've only to hint at money to me, and I feel hot all over in a minute; red-hot all over, and that's all about it. And to be sure at such times, I'd swear at anyone for nothing at all.
MME. KABANOVA.
You've no one over you, and so you think you can do as you like.
DIKOY. No, you hold your tongue! Listen to me! I'll tell you the sort of troubles that happen to me. I had fasted and all ready for sacrament in Lent, and then the evil one thrusts a wretched peasant under my nose. He had come for money,—for wood he had supplied us. And for my sins he must needs show himself at a time like that! I fell into sin, of course, I pitched into him, pitched into him finely, I did, all but thrashed him. There you have it, my temper! Afterwards I asked his pardon, bowed down at his feet, upon my word I did. It's the truth I'm telling you, I bowed down at a peasant's feet. That's what my temper brings me to: on the spot there, in the mud I bowed down at his feet; before everyone, I did.
MME. KABANOVA. But what do you work yourself up into a rage on purpose for? That's not right, my friend!
DIKOY.
On purpose? How d'you mean?
MME. KABANOVA. I've seen you, I know all about it. When you see that people are going to ask you for anything, you go and pick a quarrel purposely with one of your household, so as to work yourself into a rage. For you know that when you're in a rage, no one dare come near you. That's a pretty thing!
DIKOY.
Well, what of it? Who likes parting with his property?
[Glasha comes in.
GLASHA.
Marfa Ignatievna, lunch is served!
MME. KABANOVA.
Well, old friend, come in! Have a taste of what God has sent us!
DIKOY.
Much obliged.
MME. KABANOVA. Pray walk in. (Ushers Dikoy in front and follows him in. Glasha, folding her arms, stands at the gates.)
GLASHA.
If that isn't Boris Grigoritch coming. Sure now he's not after his uncle?
Or may be, just out for a stroll—to be sure, out for a stroll, he must
be. [Enter Boris.
SCENE III
GLASHA, BORIS, later KULIGIN.
BORIS.
Isn't my uncle inside?
GLASHA.
Yes. Do you want him?
BORIS. They sent me from home to find out where he was. But since he's with you let him stop there; no one wants him. At home they're pleased and happy that he's out.
GLASHA.
Our good lady out to marry him, she'd soon make him mind what he's about.
But I mustn't stop here gossiping with you! Good-bye. [Exit.
BORIS. Ah, merciful Heavens! For one glimpse of her! I can't go into the house. No one calls anywhere uninvited in this place. What a life! We are living in the same town, almost next door; yet we barely see each other once a week, and then only in church, or in the street,—and that's all! When a woman's married here she might as well be buried,—it's all the same. (Silence.) If only I had never seen her; it would have been better for me! I can only see her by snatches, and before people,—who are all eyes, staring at one. It's simply heartrending. And yet there's no mastering oneself. If I go out for a walk, I always find myself here at the gate. And what use is there in coming here? There's never any chance of seeing her, and what's more, it may give rise to gossip and do her harm. Well, it's a fine town, certainly!
[He is going, Kuligin comes, meeting him.
KULIGIN.
Well, sir? out for a walk?
BORIS.
Yes, it's very pleasant out now.
KULIGIN. Very pleasant it is, sir, walking now. The stillness, the sweet air, the scent of flowers from the far side of the Volga, the clear sky—
The space aloft, filled full of stars,
Stars numberless, space limitless.
Shall we go to the parade, there's not a soul there.
BORIS.
Yes, come along.
KULIGIN That's our town all over, sir! Here they've made a parade, but they don't walk there. They only walk out on fête days, and then they only make a show of being out for a walk. They really come out to show off their best clothes. You never meet anyone but maybe a drunken attorney's clerk reeling home from the tavern. The poor have no time, sir, to walk out; they must work and worry day and night. Three hours' sleep is all they get out of the twenty-four. But what are the rich about? You'd wonder why they shouldn't walk about and enjoy the fresh air. But not a bit of it! They've all had their gates, sir, locked up long ago, and their dogs let loose. … Do you suppose they are at work at their business, or praying to God? No, sir! And it's not for fear of thieves they lock themselves up; it's that folks shouldn't see the way they ill-treat their household, and bully their families. And the tears that flow behind those bolts, unseen, unheard of! But there's no need to tell you that, sir! You can judge of it for yourself. And the sordid sodden vice within those barred gates, sir! And all hidden and buried—no one sees or knows anything of it, God alone beholds it! Stare at me as you like, say they, in the street and among folk, but you've nothing to do with my family; that's what I have locks for, and bolts and bars and savage dogs. The family's something apart, secret! We know all about such secrets!—secrets, sir, that make one man merry, perhaps, while the rest are weeping and wailing. Much secrecy about it! Everyone knows! Robbing their orphans, kinsfolk, nephews, beating their dependents till they're too cowed to hint at what goes on within doors,—there's no great secret in that! But that's enough of them! Do you know, sir, who do go for walks here? The young fellows and girls. They steal an hour or two from sleep and walk out in couples. There's a couple over there!
[Kudriash and Varvara are seen. They kiss.
BORIS.
They are kissing.
KULIGIN.
We don't think much of that.
[Kudriash goes off, and Varvara goes towards her own gate and beckons
Boris, he goes up to her.
SCENE IV
BORIS, KULIGIN and VARVARA.
KULIGIN.
I'll go to the parade, sir. I'm in your way. I'll wait for you there.
BORIS.