Larisa. Do you know the man you’re comparing yourself with! How can you be so blind! Sergey Sergeyich… is the ideal man. Do you understand what ideal is? Maybe I’m wrong, I’m still young and don’t know people, but it will be impossible to change this opinion in me, it will die with me.

Karandyshov. I just can’t understand what’s so special about him, I don’t see anything. There’s a certain boldness, an impudence. But anybody can have that if he wants.

Larisa. And do you know what boldness is?

Karandyshov. Whatever it is, what’s so wonderful about it? All it takes is putting on airs.

Larisa. To show what it is I’ll tell you something that happened. There was an officer from the Caucasus passing through here, an acquaintance of Sergey Sergeyich, and he was a wonderful shot. They were both at our place, and Sergey Sergeyich says to him, “I hear you’re a wonderful shot.” “Yes, not bad,” says the officer. Sergey Sergeyich gives him a pistol, puts a glass on his own head, and he goes off to another room, about twelve steps away. “Shoot,” he says.

Karandyshov. And he shot?

Larisa. He shot, and, of course, he knocked off the glass, only he turned a little pale. Sergey Sergeyich says, “You shoot beautifully, but you turned pale, and you were shooting at a man, and a man not close to you. Look, I’m going to shoot at a young woman who’s dearer to me than anything in the world, and I won’t turn pale.” He gives me a coin to hold, and, with indifference and a smile, he shoots from the same distance and hits it.

Karandyshov. And you obeyed him?

Larisa. How could I do anything else?

Karandyshov. You really had so much confidence in him?

Larisa. How can you ask! How could I not have confidence in him?

Karandyshov. He has no heart, that’s why he’s so bold.

Larisa. No, he has a heart too. I saw myself how he helped the poor, how he gave away all the money he had on him.

Karandyshov. So, let’s grant that Paratov has some virtues, at least in your eyes, but what about this petty merchant, this Vasya of yours?

Larisa. You’re not being jealous, are you? No, you stop all this nonsense. It’s degrading, and I won’t tolerate it, I’m telling you in advance. Don’t worry, I’m not in love with anybody, and I won’t fall in love with anybody.

Karandyshov. But what if Paratov should show up?

Larisa. Of course, if Paratov should show up and were free, then it would take only one look from him… But you can set your mind at ease, he hasn’t showed up, and even if he should show up now, it’s already too late. We’ll probably never see each other again.

A cannon shot on the Volga.

What’s that?

Karandyshov. Some high and mighty merchant is coming in, so they’re firing a salute in his honor.

Larisa. Oh, how it frightened me!

Karandyshov. Why, why should it?

Larisa. My nerves are upset. Just now I was looking down from this bench, and I began to get dizzy. Could one hurt oneself here very much?

Karandyshov. Hurt oneself! Here it’s sure death, it’s paved with stone below. And it’s so high here you’d die before you hit the bottom.

Larisa. Let’s go home, it’s time.

Karandyshov. I have to go too, I have that dinner, you know.

Larisa (going to the railing). Wait awhile. (She looks below.) Oh, oh, hold on to me!

Karandyshov (takes Larisa by the arm). Come on, you’re just being childish!

They leave. Gavrilo and Ivan enter from the coffee house.

Ivan. The cannon! The gentleman’s come, the gentleman’s come, Sergey Sergeyich.

Gavrilo. I told you it was him. I know-you can tell a falcon by its flight.

Ivan. The carriage is coming uphill empty. That means the gentlemen are coming on foot. There they are! (He runs off into the coffee house.)

Gavrilo. Welcome to them. I wish I could figure out what to treat them with.

Paratov enters. He is wearing a single-breasted, close-fitting, black frock coat, varnished high boots, a white service cap; across his shoulder is a traveling bag. With him are Robinson (wearing a cloak, the right flap of which is thrown over his left shoulder, and a tall soft hat perched on one side of his head), Knurov, and Vozhevatov. Ivan runs out of the coffee house with a hand broom to brush off Paratov.

Paratov (to Ivan). What are you doing! I’ve just come from the water, there’s no dust on the Volga.

Ivan. All the same, sir, it’s impossible not to… custom requires it. It’s been a whole year since we saw you… we want to welcome you, sir.

Paratov. All right, fine, thank you. Here. (Hegives him a ruble note.)

Ivan. Thank you very much, sir. (He goes off.)

Paratov. So, Vasily Danilych, you were expecting me to come on the Flier?

Vozhevatov. I didn’t know you’d be coming on your Swallow. I thought you’d be coming with the barges.

Paratov. No, I sold my barges. I thought I’d get here early this morning. I wanted to pass the Flier, but the engineer’s a coward. I keep shouting to the stokers, “Stoke away!”-but he takes the wood from them. He climbs out of the hold and says, “If you throw down just one more log, I’ll throw myself overboard.” He was afraid the boiler wouldn’t stand it. He scratched out some figures for me on paper, calculated the pressure. He’s a foreigner, a Dutchman, a timid soul; they have arithmetic instead of a soul. But gentlemen, I forgot to introduce you to my friend. Moky Parmenych, Vasily Danilych, I present you-Robinson.

Robinson bows solemnly and shakes hands with Knurov and Vozhevatov.

Vozhevatov. And what’s his first name and patronymic?

Paratov. He’s just Robinson, that’s all, no first name or patronymic.

Robinson (to Paratov). Serge!

Paratov. What is it?

Robinson. It’s noon, my friend, I’m suffering.

Paratov. You just wait, we’ll be going to an inn.

Robinson (pointing to the coffee house). Voilà!

Paratov. All right, go ahead, have it your own way!

Robinson goes to the coffee house.

Gavrilo, don’t serve that gentleman more than one small glass; he has a restless disposition.

Robinson (shrugging his shoulders). Serge! (He enters the coffee house, Gavrilo after him.)

Paratov. That, gentlemen, is an actor from the provinces, Arkady Shchastlivtsev by name.

Vozhevatov. Then why is he called Robinson?

Paratov. I’ll tell you. He was traveling on some steamboat or other, I don’t know which one, with a friend of his, a merchant’s son named Neputôvy, both drunk, of course, drunk as could be. They did whatever came into their head, and the passengers put up with it all. At last, to top off all their insane antics, they thought up a dramatic performance. They took off their clothes, cut open a pillow, covered themselves with down and began to play savages. At that point the captain, on the insistence of the passengers, put them ashore on a desert island. We go sailing by that island, I look, and somebody calls out, lifting his arms. Immediately I shout, “Stop,” get into a boat myself, and I find the actor Shchastlivtsev. I take him onto our boat and dress him from head to foot in my own clothes since I have extra. Gentlemen, I have a weakness for actors… That’s why he’s Robinson.

Vozhevatov. And Neputovy stayed on the island?

Paratov. But what good was he to me? Let him get the fresh air. You can judge for yourselves, gentlemen. You know, when you’re traveling it can get awfully boring, you’re glad for any companion.

Knurov. Quite right, of course.

Vozhevatov. That was lucky, a real stroke of luck! Like finding gold!

Knurov. Just one drawback, he’s given to drunkenness.

Paratov. No, gentlemen, he can’t get drunk with me, I’m strict about that. He has no money, and he can’t get anything without my permission. And if he asks me for something, then I make him learn some French conversations from a phrase book I was lucky enough to have. He learns a page first or I won’t give him anything. So he sits down and studies, how hard he tries!

Vozhevatov. How lucky you are, Sergey Sergeyich! I wouldn’t spare anything to have a man like that, but there aren’t any around. Is he a good actor?

Paratov. Well no, hardly! He went through all the roles and was a prompter, but now he plays in operettas. It doesn’t matter, he’ll pass well enough, he’s amusing.

Vozhevatov. You mean he’s fun?

Paratov. He’s entertaining.

Vozhevatov. And can you play jokes on him?

Paratov. Sure, he’s not touchy. Look, to satisfy you I can let you have him for two or three days.

Vozhevatov. Thank you very much. If I like him, he won’t lose by it.

Knurov. How is it, Sergey Sergeyich, that you don’t feel sorry about selling the Swallow?

Paratov. I don’t know what it means to “feel sorry”: for me, Moky Parmenych, nothing is sacred. If it’s to my advantage, I’ll sell anything, no matter what. But now, gentlemen, I have other business and other considerations. I’m going to marry a very rich young woman, I’ll be getting gold mines for a dowry.

Vozhevatov. A good dowry.

Paratov. It won’t come cheap. I have to say good-bye to my freedom and my life of fun. That’s why we should try hard to have a high old time these last days.

Vozhevatov. We’ll try hard, Sergey Sergeyich, we’ll try hard.

Paratov. My fiancée’s father is an important official. He’s a strict old man, and he can’t stand hearing about gypsies, carousals, and the like. He doesn’t even like it if somebody smokes a lot. What you’re supposed to do is put on your frockcoat and parlez français! That’s why I’m practicing now with Robinson. Only he, maybe for show, I don’t know, calls me “la Serge,” not simply “Serge.” He’s terribly funny!

Robinson appears on the steps of the coffee house, chewing something. Gavrilo is behind him.

Paratov (to Robinson). Que faites-vous là? Venez!

Robinson (with a distinguished air). Comment?

Paratov. What charm! What a tone, gentlemen! (To Robinson.) You give up that filthy habit of abandoning respectable society for the tavern.

Vozhevatov. Yes, they have a way of doing that.

Robinson. La Serge, you’ve managed to… There was no need to do that.

Paratov. Yes, forgive me, I gave away your pseudonym.

Vozhevatov. We won’t give you away, Robinson, you’ll pass among us as an Englishman, old man.

Robinson. Why this sudden familiarity? You and I haven’t drunk any fraternal pledge.

Vozhevatov. It doesn’t matter… Why stand on ceremony!

Robinson. But I don’t tolerate familiarity, and I won’t permit just anybody.

Vozhevatov. But I’m not just anybody.

Robinson. Then who are you?

Vozhevatov. A merchant.

Robinson. A rich one?

Vozhevatov. A rich one.

Robinson. And generous?

Vozhevatov. And generous.

Robinson. Now that’s something to my taste. (He extends his hand to Vozhevatov.) Very pleased to meet you. Now I can permit you to deal with me without formalities.

Vozhevatov. That means we’re friends, two bodies, one soul.

Robinson. And one pocket. What’s your first name and patronymic? I mean, your first name, the patronymic’s not necessary.

Vozhevatov. Vasily Danilych.

Robinson. Tell you what, Vasya, in honor of our first acquaintance you pay for me.

Vozhevatov. Gavrilo, write it down to my account. Sergey Sergeyich, we’re getting up a picnic for tonight on the other side of the Volga. In one boat there’ll be gypsies, and we’ll be in the other. When we get there we’ll sit down on a rug and heat up some hot punch.

Gavrilo. And I, Sergey Sergeyich, have two pineapples that have been waiting for you a long time. They should be broken into to celebrate your arrival.

Paratov (to Gavrilo). Fine, cut them up! (To Vozhevatov.) Gentlemen, I’m at your disposal, do what you want with me.

Gavrilo. And I, Vasily Danilych, will make all the necessary arrangements. I have a silver saucepan for such occasions, and I’ll let my help go off with you.

Vozhevatov. All right, very good. Have everything ready by six. If you should get in something extra, it won’t be held against you, but you’ll have to answer for any lack.

Gavrilo. We understand, sir.

Vozhevatov. And when we come back we’ll light up colored lanterns on the boats.

Robinson. I haven’t known him long, and already I’ve grown fond of him, gentlemen. There’s a miracle for you!

Paratov. The main thing is, there should be a good time. I’m saying goodbye to my bachelor life, so I want something to remember it by. And this evening, gentlemen, I invite you to have dinner with me.

Vozhevatov. What a pity! I’m afraid that’s impossible, Sergey Sergeyich.

Knurov. We’ve been invited elsewhere.

Paratov. Decline, gentlemen.

Vozhevatov. We can’t decline. Larisa Dmitriyevna is getting married, so we’re having dinner at her fiancé’s.

Paratov. Larisa is getting married! (He becomes pensive.) So then… God be with her! This is even better… I’m a bit guilty towards her, or rather, I’m so guilty I shouldn’t show my face to them. But now she’s getting married it means the old scores are settled, and I can show up and kiss her little hands, and aunty’s too. I call Kharita Ignatyevna aunty for short. You know, I almost married Larisa; that would have given people something to laugh at! Yes, I almost made a fool of myself. So she’s getting married. That’s very nice on her part; all the same I do feel a bit relieved… and may God grant her health and every blessing! I’ll drop in on them, I’ll drop in. It’ll be interesting, very interesting to have a look at her.

Vozhevatov. They’ll probably invite you.

Paratov. Of course, how could they do without me!

Knurov. I’m very glad. Now at least I’ll have somebody at dinner to exchange a word with.

Vozhevatov. When we’re there we’ll talk over how we can pass time to have more fun. Maybe we can think up something else.

Paratov. Yes, gentlemen, life is short, that’s what the philosophers tell us, so we’ve got to know how to take advantage of it… N’est-ce pas, Robinson?

Robinson. Oui, la Serge.

Vozhevatov. We’ll try hard, you won’t be bored, we’ll stand on that. We’ll take a third boat, and we’ll put the regimental band on it.

Paratov. Good day, gentlemen! I’m going to the inn. Robinson, forward… march!

Robinson (lifting his hat).

Long live merriment!

Long live delight!^[3]