The Russian Masters: Works by Dostoevsky, Chekhov, Tolstoy, Pushkin, Gogol, Turgenev and More. Максим Горький

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СКАЧАТЬ Why do you desire it?

      Harlequin: Oh, it's just coming at the right time! The man that lives wisely always desires his death.

      Doctor: You’re talking in riddles.

      Harlequin: Yes, for people like you. (Laughs.)

      Doctor: How do you know?

      Harlequin: If you like, I’ll tell you how you’ll die.

      Doctor: Interesting.

      Harlequin (lies on bed and shivers with all his body, then groans): Oh! Ah! Ugh! I’m still so young. I haven’t been able to live yet as I ought. Why have I been so abstinent all my life? I’ve still got all sorts of things I want to do. Turn me to the window. I’m not tired yet of looking at the world. Help! I’ve not been able to do half I wanted. I was never in a hurry to live because I always forgot about death. Help, help! I haven’t been able to enjoy myself yet; I’ve always kept my health, my strength, and my money for the morrow. I filled it with beautiful hopes, and it rolled on like a snowball, growing bigger and bigger. Has that morrow rolled for ever beyond the bounds of the possible? It has rolled down the slope of my mortal wisdom. Oh! Ah! Ugh! (Twists for the last time, extends, and dies. The Doctor weeps. Harlequin, with a laugh, gets up and applauds himself.) No! Not so dies Harlequin!

      Doctor (weeping): What must I do?

      Harlequin (holds out his hand): For the advice, please. I take in advance.

      Doctor: How much?

      Harlequin: As much as you.

      Doctor (gives back his fee): Well?

      Harlequin (with importance): Go and live. Nothing else.

      Doctor: What does that mean?

      Harlequin: Well, if you don’t understand, you’re incurable. I tell you, go and live, but live, not like an immortal, but like a man that may die to-morrow.

      Doctor (shakes his head doubtfully): H’m. I’ll try it. (Wipes his eyes.) Good-bye, Mr. Harlequin.

      Harlequin: Good-bye, Mr. Doctor. (Exit Doctor, finger on brow.) Well, what have you got to say of it, Pierrot?

      Pierrot: Nothing good. (It grows dark.)

      Harlequin: The old ape imagined I don’t feel death coming. As if a man, sleeping longer than he revels, could still have doubts about the approach of death. But what’s the time? (The clock shows eight.) Hasn’t the clock stopped? It always went in step with me, but now ——

      Pierrot: You’re too nervous.

      Harlequin: We can’t all be like you.

      Pierrot: What do you mean?

      Harlequin: You’ll soon see. Help me to lay the table for supper.

      Pierrot (going to the clipboard): With great pleasure.

      Harlequin: We must lay for three.

      Pierrot: Three?

      Harlequin: Yes.

      Pierrot: Whom’s the third for?

      Harlequin: For Death.

      Pierrot: She’ll sit down with us?

      Harlequin: If you’re not afraid of her.

      Pierrot: Two glasses are enough; I won’t have supper with you.

      Harlequin: Come, come! I was joking. Death will sup on me. That’s sufficient for her. But, all the same, lay for three. (Lights the lamp.)

      Pierrot: But whom’s the third for ?

      Columbine’s voice (sings):

I from my husband unsuspected Steal to another ’neath the moon; When desire’s interdicted, Doubly ’tis desired soon. Ah, my heart is trembling, Fainting, beating slow — If my spouse should see me, Should hearken, and should know.

      Pierrot: What’s that? Columbine’s voice! My wife’s voice!

      Harlequin: Now you know whom the third place is for.

      Pierrot (tragically): A-ah! Traitor! A-ah! Demon! This is your friendship!

      Harlequin: Be calm. Why, nothing’s happened yet!

      Pierrot: It only wants that!

      Harlequin: And if I were to say that it doesn’t even want that?

      Pierrot: And you dare pretend that you love me!

      Harlequin: I love you both. But you want it to be only you, and so you’re jealous.

      Pierrot: You know very well how, of whom, and why I’m jealous.

      Harlequin: Be sensible. If you love me and love Columbine, you ought to be happy for both our sakes. Besides, you know we both love you. So what is there to be sad about? Lay a third place.

      Pierrot: No, I’m not so simple. Nice people don’t behave like that, and there’s nothing else left for me than to revenge myself on you.

      Harlequin: In what way?

      Pierrot: By death.

      Harlequin: But it’ll come soon anyhow — my hours are numbered. Who will prevent you afterwards from telling everybody that it was the work of your hands?

      Pierrot: Suppose ——

      Harlequin: Come, what is there to talk about! Lay a third place.

      Pierrot (considering): Yes, but ——

      Harlequin: Come, come. Time’s precious. (Pierrot fetches the plates and drops them.) Butterfingers! You were bound to smash ’em.

      Pierrot (pathetically) : It’s not for you to reproach me! You’ve destroyed my happiness.

      Harlequin (laying the third place): No phrases, please! You’ve been cold with Columbine for a long time, and you’re only jealous because it’s good manners. But, shh!

      Columbine’s voice:

Columbine has donned her mask And is clad in motley gear, O, Wants to see her Harlequin But’s afraid of meeting Pierrot. Ah, her heart is trembling, Fainting, beating slow — If her spouse should see her, Should hearken, and should know.

      Harlequin: I’m going to meet Columbine; you look after the lamp. (Exit.)

      Pierrot: H’m. Look after the lamp! (Suddenly strikes his forehead.) Wouldn’t it be better to look after the clock? Well, if Harlequin’s death ought to be the work of my hands, very well! Ladies and gentlemen, you are my witnesses! I don’t leave that sort of things unpunished — I’ll put the hands on two hours. (Does so.) Ah! Harlequin, СКАЧАТЬ