The Essential Russian Plays & Short Stories. Максим Горький
Читать онлайн книгу.
Worship. We suffer insult and wrong wholly without cause.
KHLESTAKOV. From whom?
A MERCHANT. Why, from our governor here. Such a governor there never was yet in the world, your Worship. No words can describe the injuries he inflicts upon us. He has taken the bread out of our mouths by quartering soldiers on us, so that you might as well put your neck in a noose. He doesn't treat you as you deserve. He catches hold of your beard and says, "Oh, you Tartar!" Upon my word, if we had shown him any disrespect, but we obey all the laws and regulations. We don't mind giving him what his wife and daughter need for their clothes, but no, that's not enough. So help me God! He comes to our shop and takes whatever his eyes fall on. He sees a piece of cloth and says, "Oh, my friends, that's a fine piece of goods. Take it to my house." So we take it to his house. It will be almost forty yards.
KHLESTAKOV. Is it possible? My, what a swindler!
MERCHANTS. So help us God! No one remembers a governor like him. When you see him coming you hide everything in the shop. It isn't only that he wants a few delicacies and fineries. He takes every bit of trash, too—prunes that have been in the barrel seven years and that even the boy in my shop would not eat, and he grabs a fist full. His name day is St. Anthony's, and you'd think there's nothing else left in the world to bring him and that he doesn't want any more. But no, you must give him more. He says St. Onufry's is also his name day. What's to be done? You have to take things to him on St. Onufry's day, too.
KHLESTAKOV. Why, he's a plain robber.
MERCHANTS. Yes, indeed! And try to contradict him, and he'll fill your house with a whole regiment of soldiers. And if you say anything, he orders the doors closed. "I won't inflict corporal punishment on you," he says, "or put you in the rack. That's forbidden by law," he says. "But I'll make you swallow salt herring, my good man."
KHLESTAKOV. What a swindler! For such things a man can be sent to Siberia.
MERCHANTS. It doesn't matter where you are pleased to send him. Only the farthest away from here the better. Father, don't scorn to accept our bread and salt. We pay our respects to you with sugar and a basket of wine.
KHLESTAKOV. No, no. Don't think of it. I don't take bribes. Oh, if, for example, you would offer me a loan of three hundred rubles, that's quite different. I am willing to take a loan.
MERCHANTS. If you please, father. [They take out money.] But what is three hundred? Better take five hundred. Only help us.
KHLESTAKOV. Very well. About a loan I won't say a word. I'll take it.
MERCHANTS [proffering him the money on a silver tray]. Do please take the tray, too.
KHLESTAKOV. Very well. I can take the tray, too.
MERCHANTS [bowing]. Then take the sugar at the same time.
KHLESTAKOV. Oh, no. I take no bribes.
OSIP. Why don't you take the sugar, your Highness? Take it. Everything will come in handy on the road. Give here the sugar and that case. Give them here. It'll all be of use. What have you got there—a string? Give it here. A string will be handy on the road, too, if the coach or something else should break—for tying it up.
MERCHANTS. Do us this great favor, your illustrious Highness. Why, if you don't help us in our appeal to you, then we simply don't know how we are to exist. We might as well put our necks in a noose.
KHLESTAKOV. Positively, positively. I shall exert my efforts in your behalf.
[The Merchants leave. A woman's voice is heard saying:]
"Don't you dare not to let me in. I'll make a complaint against you to him himself. Don't push me that way. It hurts."
KHLESTAKOV. Who is there? [Goes to the window.] What is it, mother?
[Two women's voices are heard:] "We beseech your grace, father. Give orders, your Lordship, for us to be heard."
KHLESTAKOV. Let her in.
SCENE XI
Khlestakov, the Locksmith's Wife, and the non-commissioned Officer's Widow.
LOCK.'S WIFE [kneeling]. I beseech your grace.
WIDOW. I beseech your grace.
KHLESTAKOV. Who are you?
WIDOW. Ivanova, widow of a non-commissioned officer.
LOCK.'S WIFE. Fevronya Petrova Poshliopkina, the wife of a locksmith, a burgess of this town. My father—
KHLESTAKOV. Stop! One at a time. What do you want?
LOCK.'S WIFE. I beg for your grace. I beseech your aid against the governor. May God send all evil upon him. May neither he nor his children nor his uncles nor his aunts ever prosper in any of their undertakings.
KHLESTAKOV. What's the matter?
LOCK.'S WIFE. He ordered my husband to shave his forehead as a soldier, and our turn hadn't come, and it is against the law, my husband being a married man.
KHLESTAKOV. How could he do it, then?
LOCK.'S WIFE. He did it, he did it, the blackguard! May God smite him both in this world and the next. If he has an aunt, may all harm descend upon her. And if his father is living, may the rascal perish, may he choke to death. Such a cheat! The son of the tailor should have been levied. And he is a drunkard, too. But his parents gave the governor a rich present, so he fastened on the son of the tradeswoman, Panteleyeva. And Panteleyeva also sent his wife three pieces of linen. So then he comes to me. "What do you want your husband for?" he says. "He isn't any good to you any more." It's for me to know whether he is any good or not. That's my business. The old cheat! "He's a thief," he says. "Although he hasn't stolen anything, that doesn't matter. He is going to steal. And he'll be recruited next year anyway." How can I do without a husband? I am not a strong woman. The skunk! May none of his kith and kin ever see the light of God. And if he has a mother-in-law, may she, too,—
KHLESTAKOV. All right, all right. Well, and you?
[Addressing the Widow and leading the Locksmith's Wife to the door.]
LOCK.'S WIFE [leaving]. Don't forget, father. Be kind and gracious to me.
WIDOW. I have come to complain against the Governor, father.
KHLESTAKOV. What is it? What for? Be brief.
WIDOW. He flogged me, father.
KHLESTAKOV. How so?
WIDOW. By mistake, my father. Our women got into a squabble in the market, and when the police came, it was all over, and they took me and reported me—I couldn't sit down for two days.
KHLESTAKOV. But what's to be done now?
WIDOW. There's nothing to be done, of course. But if you please, order him to pay a fine for the mistake. I can't undo my luck. But the money would be very useful to me now.
KHLESTAKOV. All right, all right. Go now, go. I'll see to it. [Hands with petitions are thrust through the window.] Who else is out there? [Goes to the window.] No, no. I don't want to, I don't want to. [Leaves the window.] I'm sick of it, the devil take it! Don't let them in, Osip.
OSIP [calling through the window]. Go away, go away! He has no time. Come tomorrow.
The door opens and a figure appears in a shag cloak, with unshaven beard, swollen lip, and a bandage over his cheek. Behind him appear a whole line of others.
OSIP. Go away, go away! What are you crowding in here for?
He puts his hands against the stomach of the first one, and goes out through the door, pushing him and banging the door behind.
SCENE XII
Khlestakov and Marya Antonovna.
MARYA. Oh!
KHLESTAKOV. What frightened