The Russian Masters: Works by Dostoevsky, Chekhov, Tolstoy, Pushkin, Gogol, Turgenev and More. Максим Горький

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The Russian Masters: Works by Dostoevsky, Chekhov, Tolstoy, Pushkin, Gogol, Turgenev and More - Максим Горький


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the road. Again a dream. For if you stopped up your ears, you wouldn't hear those sounds. When I die, everything will grow silent, and then it will be true. Only the dead know the truth, Mr. Savva.

      FRIAR (smiling, cautiously waving his hands at a bird; in a whisper) It's time to go to bed, time to go to bed.

      SAVVA (impatiently)

      What dead? Listen, my dear sir. I have a plain, simple, peasant mind, and I don't understand those subtleties. What dead are you talking about?

      SPERANSKY

      About all the dead, every one without exception. That's why the faces of the dead are so serene. Whatever agonies a man may have suffered before his death, the moment he dies his face becomes serene. That's because he has learned the truth. I always come here to attend the funerals. It's astonishing. There was a woman buried here. She had died of grief because her husband was crushed under a locomotive. You can imagine what must have been going on in her mind before her death. It's too horrible to think of. Yet she lay there, in the coffin, absolutely serene and calm. That's because she had come to know that her grief was nothing but a dream, a mere phantom. I like the dead, Mr. Savva. I think the dead really exist.

      SAVVA

      I don't like the dead. (Impatiently) You are a very disagreeable fellow. Has anybody ever told you that?

      SPERANSKY

      Yes, I have, heard it before.

      SAVVA

      I would never have taken you out of the noose. What damn fool did it anyway?

      SPERANSKY

      The first time it was the Father Steward, the next time my classmates. I am very sorry you disapprove of me, Mr. Tropinin. As you are an educated man, I should have liked to show you a bit of writing I did while I was in the seminary. It's called "The Tramp of Death." It's a sort of story.

      SAVVA

      No, spare me, please. Altogether I wish you'd—

      FRIAR. (rising)

      There comes Father Kirill. I had better beat it.

      SAVVA

      Why?

      FRIAR

      He came across me in the forest the other day when I was-shouting "Ho! Ho!" "Ah," said he, "you forest sprite with goat's feet!" To-morrow after dinner, all right? (Walks away, sedately at first, but then with a sort of dancing step)

      FAT MONK (approaches)

      Well, young men, having a pleasant chat? Are you Mr. Tropinin's son?

      SAVVA

      I am the man.

      FAT MONK

      I have heard about you. A decent, respectable gentleman your father is. May I sit down? (He sits down) The sun has set, yet it's still hot. I wonder if we'll have a storm to-night. Well, young man, how do you like it here? How does this place compare with the metropolis?

      SAVVA

      It's a rich monastery.

      FAT MONK

      Yes, thank the Lord. It's celebrated all over Russia. There are many who come here even from Siberia. Its fame reaches far. There'll soon be a feast-day, and—

      SPERANSKY

      You'll work yourself sick, father. Services day and night.

      FAT MONK

      Yes, we must do our best for the monastery.

      SAVVA

      Not for the people?

      FAT MONK

      Yes, for the people too. For whom else? Last year a large number of epileptics were cured; quite a lot of them. One blind man had his eyesight restored, and two paralytics were made to walk. You'll see for yourself, young man, and then you won't smile. I have heard that you are an unbeliever.

      SAVVA

      You have heard correctly. I am an unbeliever.

      FAT MONK

      It's a shame, a shame. Of course, there are many unbelievers nowadays among the educated classes. But are they any happier on that account? I doubt it.

      SAVVA

      No, there are not so many. They think they are unbelievers because they don't go to church. As a matter of fact, they have greater faith than you. It's more deep-seated.

      FAT MONK

      Is that so?

      SAVVA

      Yes, yes. The form of their faith is, of course, more refined. They are cultured, you see.

      FAT MONK

      Of course, of course. People feel better, feel more confident and secure, if they believe.

      SAVVA

      They say the devil is choking the monks here every night.

      FAT MONK (laughing)

      Nonsense. (To the Gray Monk passing by) Father Vissarion, come here a moment. Sit down. Mr. Tropinin's son here says the devil chokes us every night. Have you heard about it? (The two monks laugh good-naturedly as they look at each other)

      GRAY MONK

      Some of the monks can't sleep well because they have overeaten, so they think they are being choked. Why, young man, the devil can't enter within our sacred precincts.

      SAVVA

      But suppose he does suddenly put in an appearance? What will, you do then?

      FAT MONK

      We'll get after him with the holy-water sprinkler, that's what we'll do. "Don't butt in where you have no business to, you black-faced booby!" (The monk laughs)

      GRAY MONK

      Here comes King Herod.

      FAT MONK

      Wait a while, Father Vissarion. (To Savva) You talk about faith and such things. There's a man for you—look at him—see how he walks. And yet he has chains on him weighing four hundred pounds. He doesn't walk, he dances. He visits us every summer, and I must say he is a very valuable guest. His example strengthens others in their faith. Herod! Ho, Herod!

      KING HEROD

      What do you want?

      FAT MONK

      Come here a minute. This gentleman doubts the existence of God. Talk to him.

      KING HEROD

      What's the matter with yourself? Are you so full of booze that you can't wag your own tongue?

      FAT MONK

      You heretic! What a heretic! (Both monks laugh)

      KING HEROD (approaching)

      What gentleman?

      FAT MONK

      This one.

      KING HEROD (scrutinizing him)

      He doubts? Let him doubt. It's none of my business.

      SAVVA

      Oh!

      KING HEROD

      Why, what did you think?

      FAT MONK

      Sit down, please.

      KING HEROD

      Never mind. I'd rather stand.

      FAT MONK (to Savva, in a loud whisper)

      He is doing that to wear himself out. Until he has reduced himself to absolute faintness he'll neither sleep nor eat. (Aloud) This gentleman is wondering at the kind of chains you have on your body.


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