The Essential Russian Plays & Short Stories. Максим Горький
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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.