soul to be seen, as though on purpose, as
though the whole world were dead.
MARYA. Now really, mamma, we shall know all about it in a minute or two.
Avdotya must come back soon.
(Looks out of the window and exclaims.)
Oh,
mamma, someone is coming—there down the street!
ANNA. Where? Just your imagination again!—Why, yes, someone is coming.
I wonder who it is. A short man in a frock coat. Who can it be? Eh? The
suspense is awful! Who can it be, I wonder.
MARYA. Dobchinsky, mamma.
ANNA. Dobchinsky! Your imagination again! It's not Dobchinsky at all.
(Waves her handkerchief.)
Ho, you! Come here! Quick!
MARYA. It is Dobchinsky, mamma.
ANNA. Of course, you've got to contradict. I tell you, it's not
Dobchinsky.
MARYA. Well, well, mamma? Isn't it Dobchinsky?
ANNA. Yes, it is, I see now. Why do you argue about it?
(Calls through
the window.)
Hurry up, quick! You're so slow. Well, where are they?
What? Speak from where you are. It's all the same. What? He is very
strict? Eh? And how about my husband?
(Moves away a little from the
window, exasperated.)
He is so stupid. He won't say a word until he is
in the room.
Scene II
Enter Dobchinsky.
ANNA. Now tell me, aren't you ashamed? You were the only one I relied
on to act decently. They all ran away and you after them, and till now
I haven't been able to find out a thing. Aren't you ashamed? I stood
godmother to your Vanichka and Lizanko, and this is the way you treat
me.
DOBCHINSKY. Godmother, upon my word, I ran so fast to pay my respects to
you that I'm all out of breath. How do you do, Marya Antonovna?
MARYA. Good afternoon, Piotr Ivanovich.
ANNA. Well, tell me all about it. What is happening at the inn?
DOBCHINSKY. I have a note for you from Anton Antonovich.
ANNA. But who is he? A general?
DOBCHINSKY. No, not a general, but every bit as good as a general, I
tell you. Such culture! Such dignified manners!
ANNA. Ah! So he is the same as the one my husband got a letter about.
DOBCHINSKY. Exactly. It was Piotr Ivanovich and I who first discovered
him.
ANNA. Tell me, tell me all about it.
DOBCHINSKY. It's all right now, thank the Lord. At first he received
Anton Antonovich rather roughly. He was angry and said the inn was not
run properly, and he wouldn't come to the Governor's house and he didn't
want to go to jail on account of him. But then when he found out
that Anton Antonovich was not to blame and they got to talking more
intimately, he changed right away, and, thank Heaven, everything went
well. They've gone now to inspect the philanthropic institutions. I
confess that Anton Antonovich had already begun to suspect that a secret
denunciation had been lodged against him. I myself was trembling a
little, too.
ANNA. What have you to be afraid of? You're not an official.
DOBCHINSKY. Well, you see, when a Grand Mogul speaks, you feel afraid.
ANNA. That's all rubbish. Tell me, what is he like personally? Is he
young or old?
DOBCHINSKY. Young—a young man of about twenty-three. But he talks as
if he were older. "If you will allow me," he says, "I will go there
and there."
(Waves his hands.)
He does it all with such distinction. "I
like," he says, "to read and write, but I am prevented because my room
is rather dark."
ANNA. And what sort of a looking man is he, dark or fair?
DOBCHINSKY. Neither. I should say rather chestnut. And his eyes dart
about like little animals. They make you nervous.
ANNA. Let me see what my husband writes.
(Reads.)
"I hasten to let you
know, dear, that my position was extremely uncomfortable, but relying
on the mercy of God, two pickles extra and a half portion of caviar, one
ruble and twenty-five kopeks."
(Stops.)
I don't understand. What have
pickles and caviar got to do with it?
DOBCHINSKY. Oh, Anton Antonovich hurriedly wrote on a piece of scrap
paper. There's a kind of bill on it.
ANNA. Oh, yes, I see.
(Goes on reading.)
"But relying on the mercy
of God, I believe all will turn out well in the end. Get a room ready
quickly for
Scarlett Jade, Intuition Author Services
Lindsey Fairleigh, Lindsey Pogue