The Complete Plays of Leo Tolstoy (Annotated). Leo Tolstoy

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СКАЧАТЬ I think.

      ANÍSYA. That's the way he always coughs,—just as if he were screaming. He's getting very bad.

      NEIGHBOUR [approaches Matryóna] How do you do, granny? Have you come far?

      MATRYÓNA. Straight from home, dear. Come to see my son. Brought him some shirts—can't help thinking of these things, you see, when it's one's own child.

      NEIGHBOUR. Yes, that's always so. [To Anísya] And I was thinking of beginning to bleach the linen, but it is a bit early, no one has begun yet.

      ANÍSYA. Where's the hurry?

      MATRYÓNA. Well, and has he had communion?

      ANÍSYA. Oh dear yes, the priest was here yesterday.

      NEIGHBOUR. I had a look at him yesterday. Dearie me! one wonders his body and soul keep together. And, O Lord, the other day he seemed just at his last gasp, so that they laid him under the holy icóns.[1] They started lamenting and got ready to lay him out.

      ANÍSYA. He came to, and creeps about again.

      MATRYÓNA. Well, and is he to have extreme unction?

      ANÍSYA. The neighbours advise it. If he lives till to-morrow we'll send for the priest.

      NEIGHBOUR. Oh, Anísya dear, I should think your heart must be heavy. As the saying goes, “Not he is sick that's ill in bed, but he that sits and waits in dread.”

      ANÍSYA. Yes, if it were only over one way or other!

      NEIGHBOUR. Yes, that's true, dying for a year, it's no joke. You're bound hand and foot like that.

      MATRYÓNA. Ah, but a widow's lot is also bitter. It's all right as long as one's young, but who'll care for you when you're old? Oh yes, old age is not pleasure. Just look at me. I've not walked very far, and yet am so footsore I don't know how to stand. Where's my son?

      ANÍSYA. Ploughing. But you come in and we'll get the samovár ready; the tea'll set you up again.

      MATRYÓNA [sitting down] Yes, it's true, I'm quite done up, my dears. As to extreme unction, that's absolutely necessary. Besides, they say it's good for the soul.

      ANÍSYA. Yes, we'll send to-morrow.

       MATRYÓNA. Yes, you had better. And we've had a wedding down in our parts.

      NEIGHBOUR. What, in spring?[2]

      MATRYÓNA. Ah, now if it were a poor man, then, as the saying is, it's always unseasonable for a poor man to marry. But it's Simon Matvéyitch, he's married that Marína.

      ANÍSYA. What luck for her!

      NEIGHBOUR. He's a widower. I suppose there are children?

      MATRYÓNA. Four of 'em. What decent girl would have him! Well, so he's taken her, and she's glad. You see, the vessel was not sound, so the wine trickled out.

      NEIGHBOUR. Oh my! And what do people say to it? And he, a rich peasant!

      MATRYÓNA. They are living well enough so far.

      NEIGHBOUR. Yes, it's true enough. Who wants to marry where there are children? There now, there's our Michael. He's such a fellow, dear me …

      PEASANT'S VOICE. Hullo, Mávra. Where the devil are you? Go and drive the cow in.

      Exit Neighbour.

      MATRYÓNA [while the Neighbour is within hearing speaks in her ordinary voice] Yes, lass, thank goodness, she's married. At any rate my old fool won't go bothering about Nikíta. Now [suddenly changing her tone], she's gone! [Whispers] I say, did you give him the tea?

      ANÍSYA. Don't speak about it. He'd better die of himself. It's no use—he doesn't die, and I have only taken a sin on my soul. O-oh, my head, my head! Oh, why did you give me those powders?

      MATRYÓNA. What of the powders? The sleeping powders, lass,—why not give them? No evil can come of them.

      ANÍSYA. I am not talking of the sleeping ones, but the others, the white ones.

       MATRYÓNA. Well, honey, those powders are medicinal.

      ANÍSYA [sighs] I know, yet it's frightening. Though he's worried me to death.

      MATRYÓNA. Well, and did you use many?

      ANÍSYA. I gave two doses.

      MATRYÓNA. Was anything noticeable?

      ANÍSYA. I had a taste of the tea myself—just a little bitter. And he drank them with the tea and says, “Even tea disgusts me,” and I say, “Everything tastes bitter when one's sick.” But I felt that scared, mother.

      MATRYÓNA. Don't go thinking about it. The more one thinks the worse it is.

      ANÍSYA. I wish you'd never given them to me and led me into sin. When I think of it something seems to tear my heart. Oh dear, why did you give them to me?

      MATRYÓNA. What do you mean, honey? Lord help you! Why are you turning it on to me? Mind, lass, don't go twisting matters from the sick on to the healthy. If anything were to happen, I stand aside! I know nothing! I'm aware of nothing! I'll kiss the cross on it; I never gave you any kind of powders, never saw any, never heard of any, and never knew there were such powders. You think about yourself, lass. Why, we were talking about you the other day. “Poor thing, what torture she endures. The step-daughter an idiot; the old man rotten, sucking her life-blood. What wouldn't one be ready to do in such a case!”

      ANÍSYA. I'm not going to deny it. A life such as mine could make one do worse than that. It could make you hang yourself or throttle him. Is this a life?

      MATRYÓNA. That's just it. There's no time to stand gaping; the money must be found one way or other, and then he must have his tea.

      ANÍSYA. O-oh, my head, my head! I can't think what to do. I am so frightened; he'd better die of himself. I don't want to have it on my soul.

       MATRYÓNA [viciously] And why doesn't he show the money? Does he mean to take it along with him? Is no one to have it? Is that right? God forbid such a sum should be lost all for nothing. Isn't that a sin? What's he doing? Is he worth considering?

      ANÍSYA. I don't know anything. He's worried me to death.

      MATRYÓNA. What is it you don't know? The business is clear. If you make a slip now, you'll repent it all your life. He'll give the money to his sister and you'll be left without.

      ANÍSYA. O-oh dear! Yes, and he did send for her—I must go.

      MATRYÓNA. You wait a bit and light the samovár first. We'll give him some tea and search him together—we'll find it, no fear.

      ANÍSYA. Oh dear, oh dear; supposing something were to happen.

      MATRYÓNA. What now? What's the good of waiting? Do you want the money to slip from your hand when it's just in sight? You go and do as I say.

      ANÍSYA. СКАЧАТЬ