The Russian Masters: Works by Dostoevsky, Chekhov, Tolstoy, Pushkin, Gogol, Turgenev and More. Максим Горький
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grave? Who will bury me? I'll be lying like a dog on the street.
People will step over me, wagons will ride over me. They'll crush me.
Oh, my God! Oh, my God! (Cries)
—Permit me to congratulate you, my dear friend, on the birth of your child.
—I am positive there is a mistake here. For a circle to fall out of a straight line is an absurdity. I'll demonstrate it on the spot.
—You're right.
—Oh my! Oh my!
—It's only ignoramuses in mathematics who will permit it. I won't. I won't permit it, do you hear?
—Do you remember the rosy dress and the little bare neck?
—And the flowers? The lilies-of-the-valley on which the dew never dried, and the violets, and the green grass?
—Don't touch, don't touch the flowers, girls.
[They utter a low and suppressed laugh.
—Oh my! Oh my!
[The drunkards have all gone. Their places are taken by the Old Women. The light grows steady and very faint. The figure of the Unknown is sharply outlined, and so is Man's gray head, on which a, faint light falls from above.
OLD WOMEN'S CONVERSATION.
—Good evening.
—Good evening. What a splendid night!
—Here we are together again. How are you feeling?
—I cough a little.
[They laugh suppressedly.
—It won't take long now. He'll die soon.
—Look at the candle. The flame is blue and thin and spreading sideways. There's no more wax. It's only the wick that's burning.
—It doesn't want to go out.
—When did you ever see a flame that did want to go out?
—Don't dispute, don't dispute. Whether it wants to go out, or doesn't want to go out, time is flying.
—Do you remember his motor car? He once almost ran me down.
—And his fifteen rooms?
—I was there a little while ago. The rats almost ate me up, and I caught a cold in the draught. Someone had stolen the window frames, and the wind was blowing through the whole house.
—Did you try the bed in which his wife died? Isn't it soft and nice?
—Yes, I went through all the rooms and let my fancy play a little. They have such a pretty nursery. It's a pity the window frames are knocked out there too, and the wind makes a racket with the litter on the floor. And the child's bed too is so dear. Now the rats have made their nest in it and breed their children there.
—Such dear, naked little rats.
[They titter.
—And in his study the toys are lying on the table: a horse without a tail, a soldier's cap, and a red-nosed clown. I played a little with them. I put on the soldier's cap. It was very becoming to me. But there's such a lot of dust on the things. I got all dirty.
—But did you go into the drawing-room where the ball was given? It's so gay there.
—Yes, I did. Fancy what I saw. It was dark, the windows were broken, and the wind was playing with the wall-paper—
—Making a sound as of music.
—And in the darkness the guests were squatting on their knees at the wall—and you should have seen how they looked!
—We know.
—And they barked: "How rich! How magnificent! How brilliant! How rich!"
—You're joking, of course.
—Of course I'm joking. You know I have a funny disposition.
—How rich! How magnificent!
—How gay!
[They titter.
—Let's remind him of it!
—How rich! How magnificent!
—Do you remember how the music played at your ball?
—He's going to die soon.
—The dancers circled about, circled about, and the music played so gently, so beautifully. They played this way.
[They make a semicircle about Man and hum the tune played by the musicians at the ball.
—Let's get up a ball. It's so long since I've danced.
—Imagine that this is a palace, a magnificent, an exquisitely beautiful palace.
—Call the musicians. Why, you can't have a ball without music.
—Musicians!
—You remember?
[They sing. At that instant the three musicians who played at the ball come down the stairs. The one with the violin adjusts his handkerchief on his shoulder with great precision, and all three begin to play, making an exaggerated effort. But the notes are soft and gentle as in a dream.
—There you have the ball.
—How rich! How magnificent!
—How brilliant!
—You remember, don't you?
[Singing softly to the music, they begin to circle about Man, imitating in a wild, monstrous fashion the movements of the girls in the white dresses who danced at the ball. At the first musical phrase they circle, at the second they join and part gracefully and quietly, whispering:
—Do you remember?
—You're going to die soon—do you remember?
—Do you remember?
—Do you remember?
—You're going to die soon—do you remember?
—Do you remember?
[The dance grows brisker, the movements sharper. Strange, whining notes mingle into the singing of the Old Women. An equally strange laugh passes around the circle of dancers, suppressed and quiet at first. As each one glides past Man, she flings an abrupt whisper into his ear:
—Do you remember?
—Do you remember?
—How gentle! How exquisite!
—What balm to the soul! Do you remember?
—You're going to die soon, you're going to die soon.
—You're going to die soon—
—Do you remember?
[They circle more quickly, their movements growing still more abrupt. Suddenly there is silence and they halt. The musicians grow rigid with the instruments in their hands. The dancers remain fixed in the game position in which they were when the silence fell. Man rises, straightens himself, throws back his gray, beautiful, terribly majestic head, and calls out in a surprisingly loud voice, full of sorrow and wrath. After each short phrase a brief but profound pause follows.
MAN
Where is my squire? Where is my sword? Where is my shield? I am disarmed! Come to me quick! Quick! Be accurs—
[He sinks down on the chair and dies,