The Russian Masters: Works by Dostoevsky, Chekhov, Tolstoy, Pushkin, Gogol, Turgenev and More. Максим Горький
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СКАЧАТЬ (as in a dream): My Harlequin! My beloved! (The lamp goes out. Then the moon lights up the stage. It is twelve o'clock. Columbine is kneeling at Harlequin's death-bed. Pierrot comes in on the right.)

      Pierrot (to Audience) : Here’s a situation. I really don’t know what I ought to bewail first: the loss of Harlequin, the loss of Columbine, my own bitter lot or yours, dear audience, who have witnessed the performance of such an unserious author. And what did he want to say in his piece? — I don’t understand. By the way, I’m silly, cowardly Pierrot, and it’s not for me to criticise the piece in which I played an unenviable role. But your astonishment will increase still more when you know what I have been told to say in conclusion by the culprit of this — well, between ourselves — this strange mockery of the public. Shhh! Listen! “When the genius Rabelais was dying, the monks collected round his couch and tried in every way to induce him to do penance for his sins. Rabelais, in reply, only smiled, and when the moment of the end came, he said mockingly: ‘Let down the curtain; the farce is over.’ He said this and died.” Why the graceless author thought it necessary to put other people’s words into the mouth of one of the actors, I don't know — I’ve not a free hand in the matter; but being a respectable actor, I stand by him to the last and so, obeying without dispute the will of the author, I shout mockingly: Let down the curtain; the farce is over. (The curtains fall behind him.) Ladies and gentlemen, I forgot to tell you that neither your applause nor your hissing of the piece is likely to be taken seriously by the author, who preaches that nothing in life is worth taking seriously. And I suggest that if truth is on his side, then you should hardly take his play seriously, all the more as Harlequin has probably risen from his deathbed already, and, perhaps, is already tidying himself in anticipation of a call, because, say what you like, but the actors can’t be responsible for the free-thinking of the author. (Exit.)

      (Curtain)

       THE BEAUTIFUL DESPOT

       Table of Contents

      The Last Act of a Drama

      By Nicholas Evréinov

       Characters

The Master, and his Companion, Friend, Maid, Manservant, Fool-Hermaphrodite, Arab Boy and Favourite Witch.

      The Beautiful Despot

       (The play takes place in the late autumn of 1904. The room luxuriously furnished in the style of a century before. The Master of the house, his Lady Companion, Manservant and Fool-Hermaphrodite with a monkey. All are dressed in antique style.)

      Servant (with animation): “Tally-ho! Tally-ho! Hark! Follow, follow!” The hounds were at their last gasp. They were only a length behind him. Now they’ve got him, thought I——No! the little lord held out another ten minutes — he doubled, the ragamuffin, and doubled again, and again — at last the whip was going to turn the pack back! — Aha! just look! — I can’t describe it! — its tongue hanging out, its eyes bulging. — What a beauty, just — “On him,” we shouted. “Tally-ho! Tally-ho! There he goes, here he goes, this way, that way.” “No, no, you’ve gone enough!” Within a minute he was done for. — How his brush trailed. The dear old chap was done for, the old fellow was done.

      Master: Good work, begad.

      Servant: Ay, I dare swear there’s no sport in the world to beat fox-hunting, nothing!

      Master: No, Egórich, give things their due. For instance, I’m extraordinarily pleased with today’s sport. Not even God knows how many brace I shot, but there were some moments that—— (Kisses the tips of his fingers.)

      Companion: Who said that hunting was a cruel pastime?

      Servant: Some jealous beast who can’t shoot or can’t afford a gun! (Laughs.)

      Fool (in motley, screams like a monkey): Kiriki, kirikoo, kiriki.

      Master (drinking): Impeaching human happiness — that’s real cruelty. Ahem ! I’ve dined well to-day. (To Servant.) My compliments to your wife; to-day’s dinner was excellent. I’m not calling her up to compliment her, from consideration for her corns. But how’s Diana?

      Companion: I heard her howling.

      Servant: Yes, I gave her another bath with bran and rubbed her belly with camphorated oil; but you’ll have to bleed her, as sure as life. (Maid brings in a long lit tobacco-pipe.)

      Companion (beckoning at Fool with a biscuit): Chick, chick, chick, chick.

      Master: Poor little doggie! However could it have happened? (Smokes. Fool scrambles up to Companion, who pulls his ear.)

      Companion: Ah, you good-for-nothing. You like to play cards, but you don’t like to be smacked for forfeits. Where did you run away to when you lost? (Fool squeals.) I’ll show you! I’ll show you! I’ll show you!

      Fool: I’ll set the house on fire! I’ll set the house on fire! (Runs after Maid and pulls her braids.) Bom! Bom-bom-bom! Bom-bom-bom-bom!

      Maid: Let go! Let go, you nasty thing! D’you hear, let go! Egórich, take him away.

      Fool: I’m ringing the alarm. Fire! We’re alight! Bom - bom - bom - bom! Bom - bom - bom - bom! (Exit Maid. Servant beats him.) Tt, you! One foot in the grave, and still fighting! (Goes back to his monkey.)

      Companion: But what if he really does set the house on fire? What will happen?

      Master: Well, the stables will be burned too. They’re so near the house. (Smiles. To Fool.) True, fool?

      Fool: A true fool!

      Master: Yes, I really am. To be the owner of estates with such a fine chase, and instead of shooting and enjoying myself in the open air——

      Servant: How often didn’t I say to you in the town: the woodcock are dull without you, the wolves run about in the garden in the daytime, everyone says, “Where’s master?”

      Master: Don’t tell me; I’m laughing at myself.

      Servant: And you didn’t want to know; you used to sit with those long-haired people, you used to write books for them, you were getting pale and thin——

      Companion: Next time I’ll go hunting too! My costume’s been repaired.

      Servant: I can understand those long-haired vagabonds writing books; they haven’t got estates or health, and the colour of their faces isn’t worth spoiling. But you’re a rich gentleman, such a gentleman, that your little toe would show you were a gentleman, and then all of a sudden——

      Master: Ah! when you were speaking the truth, I was full of prejudices——

      Servant: Only to think how much time you wasted for nothing——

      Master: Nearly all my youth——

      Companion: But who said he wasn’t going to talk of the past? There’s firm determination! Instead of sad recollections, Egórich, you’d much better tell us how his grandfather СКАЧАТЬ