Александр Островский "Without a dowry / Бесприданница. Книга для чтения на английском языке"

Vozhevatov. Yes, I suppose that’s the sort of thing Karandyshov has to go through.

Knurov. Poor girl! She must suffer just looking at him.

Vozhevatov. He got the idea of decorating his apartment, and here’s what he dreamed up. In his study he put up a cheap tapestry on the wall, and he hung up daggers and pistols from Tula. That would be no surprise if he were a hunter, but he’s never held a gun in his life. So he drags you to his place and shows it all off to you, and you have to praise him for it or he’ll take offense. He’s a proud man, envious too. He ordered a horse from the country, some nag or other with different colors, and he has a little coachman who wears a coat handed down from a big coachman. And with that camel he takes Larisa Dmitriyevna driving; he sits there so proudly, as if he were driving with a thousand trotters. He walks up from the boulevard and shouts to the constable, “Have them bring my carriage!” So that carriage of his comes driving up with all its music, the screws and nuts all jangling out of tune, and the springs shaking as if they’re alive.

Knurov. I’m sorry for poor Larisa Dmitriyevna. I’m sorry for her.

Vozhevatov. Why are you so sorry for her?

Knurov. Don’t you see? Here’s a woman made for luxury. A precious jewel demands a costly setting.

Vozhevatov. And a good jeweler.

Knurov. That’s the whole truth. A jeweler and not just an ordinary workman; he has to be an artist. If she’s surrounded by poverty and married to a fool besides, she’ll either perish or become common.

Vozhevatov. But I think she’ll throw him over pretty soon. She’s like a dead woman now, but when she recovers and takes a closer look at her husband, sees what he’s like… (Quietly.) There they are now, speak of the devil.

Karandyshov, Madame Ogudalov, and Larisa enter. Vozhevatov stands up and bows. Knurov takes out a newspaper. Larisa sits down on a bench by the railing and looks through binoculars at the Volga.

Mme Ogudalov (walking over to the table). Greetings, gentlemen!

Karandyshov follows her over. Vozhevatov gives his hand to both of them. Knurov silently and not rising from his place gives his hand to Mme Ogudalov, nods slightly to Karandyshov, and buries himself in his newspaper.

Vozhevatov. Kharita Ignatyenva, please sit down. (He moves a chair forward.)

Mme Ogudalov sits down.

Wouldn’t you like some tea?

Karandyshov sits down some distance away.

Mme Ogudalov. All right, I’ll take a cup.

Vozhevatov. Ivan, bring a cup and add some boiling water.

Ivan takes the teapot and goes off.

Karandyshov. What a crazy idea to drink tea at this time of day? It amazes me.

Vozhevatov. It’s a question of thirst, Yuly Kapitonych, but just what I should drink I don’t know. Give me your advice, I’d appreciate it.

Karandyshov (looks at his watch). At the present moment it’s noon, so you could have a small glass of vodka, a chop, and then a small glass of good wine. That’s how I always lunch.

Vozhevatov (to Mme Ogudalov). Now that’s what I call living, Kharita Ignatyenva, it makes a man jealous. (To Karandyshov.) If I could only live one little day in your shoes. A bit of vodka, a bit of wine! But we can’t do that, sir, we might lose our powers of reasoning. You can do what you want, you’re not running through your capital because you don’t have any, but we poor devils were born into the world with a lot of big deals to attend to, so we’re not allowed to lose our reason.

Ivan brings the teapot and a cup.

Kharita Ignatyenva, please! (He pours out a cup and hands it to her.) I drink my tea cold so people won’t say I use hot drinks.

Mme Ogudalov. The tea’s cold all right. Only, Vasya, you poured mine too strong.

Vozhevatov. That doesn’t matter, ma’am. Drink it, for my sake! It won’t do you any harm in the open air.

Karandyshov (to Ivan). Come to my house tonight to serve dinner.

Ivan. Yes, sir, Yuly Kapitonych.

Karandyshov. And listen, my friend, dress up for it.

Ivan. Of course, a frock coat. As if we didn’t understand that, sir.

Karandyshov. Vasily Danilych, tell you what! You come and have dinner with me tonight!

Vozhevatov. Thank you so much. And are you going to order me to come in a frock coat too?

Karandyshov. As you wish, don’t stand on ceremony. Still, there’ll be ladies.

Vozhevatov (bowing). Yes, sir. I hope I won’t disgrace myself.

Karandyshov (walks over to Knurov). Moky Parmenych, wouldn’t you like to come and have dinner with me tonight?

Knurov (looks at him in astonishment). With you?

Mme Ogudalov. Moky Parmenych, it’s the same as with us; this is a dinner for Larisa.

Knurov. I see, so it’s you who’s inviting me? Fine, I’ll come.

Karandyshov. I’ll look forward to seeing you, then.

Knurov. I already said I’d come. (He reads his newspaper.)

Mme Ogudalov. Yuly Kapitonych is my future son-inlaw; I’m letting him marry Larisa.

Knurov (continuing to read). That’s your affair.

Karandyshov. Yes, sir, Moky Parmenych, I took the risk. In general I’ve always been above prejudices.

Knurov hides behind the newspaper.

Vozhevatov (to Mme Ogudalov). Moky Parmenych is stern.

Karandyshov (moving from Knurov to Vozhevatov). I wish that Larisa Dmitriyevna be surrounded only by choice people.

Vozhevatov. Which means I’m one of the elect? Thank you, that’s something I wasn’t expecting. (To Gavrilo.) Gavrilo, how much do I owe you for the tea?

Gavrilo. You had two orders?

Vozhevatov. Yes, two orders.

Gavrilo. Then you should know yourself, Vasily Danilych, it’s not the first time… Thirteen rubles, sir.

Vozhevatov. I just thought it might have gotten cheaper.

Gavrilo. How could it have gotten cheaper! With the rate of exchange and the customs tax, really!

Vozhevatov. But I’m not arguing with you, why talk about it! Take your money and forget it! (He gives him the money.)

Karandyshov. But why is it so expensive? I don’t understand.

Gavrilo. It’s expensive for some but not for others. You don’t drink that kind of tea.

Mme Ogudalov (to Karandyshov). Stop it, don’t meddle in other people’s affairs.

Ivan. Vasily Danilych, the Swallow is coming in.

Vozhevatov. Moky Parmenych, the Swallow is coming in, wouldn’t you like to take a look? We won’t go down, we can look from the hill.

Knurov. Let’s go. I’m curious. (He gets up.)

Mme Ogudalov. Vasya, I’m going home in your carriage.

Vozhevatov. Take it, only send it back soon. (He goes over to Larisa and speaks quietly with her.)

Mme Ogudalov (goes over to Knurov). Moky Parmenych, we’ve embarked on a wedding, you just can’t believe how many troubles there are.

Knurov. Yes.

Mme Ogudalov. And suddenly there are unexpected expenses… And tomorrow’s Larisa’s birthday, I’d like to give her a present.

Knurov. Good, I’ll drop in on you.

Mme Ogudalov goes off.

Larisa (to Vozhevatov). Good-bye, Vasya!

Vozhevatov and Knurov leave. Larisa approaches Karandyshov.

Larisa. Just now I was looking across the Volga. How nice it is on the other side! Let’s go to the country as soon as we can!

Karandyshov. You were looking across the Volga? And what was Vozhevatov talking with you about?

Larisa. Nothing really, just little things. I want so much to go to the other side of the Volga, into the woods… (Thoughtfully.) Let’s go, let’s leave here!

Karandyshov. But it’s so strange! What could he have to talk with you about?

Larisa. Well, whatever he talked about, what business is it of yours?

Karandyshov. You call him Vasya. Why so familiar with a young man?

Larisa. We’ve known each other since childhood. When we were little we played together. So I’ve gotten used to calling him that.

Karandyshov. You’ll have to throw off your old habits. There’s no reason to be friends with a shallow and stupid boy. It’s not possible to tolerate the sort of life you’ve had so far.

Larisa (offended). There hasn’t been anything bad in our life.

Karandyshov. It’s been a gypsy camp, miss, that’s what it’s been. (Larisa wipes away some tears.) But why are you so offended!

Larisa. So maybe it has been a gypsy camp, but at least it’s been fun. Will you be able to give me something better than this camp?

Karandyshov. Of course.

Larisa. Why do you keep on reproaching me with it? Do you really think I’ve liked our kind of life? Mama told me how she wanted things, and so, whether I wanted to or not, I had to lead that kind of life. Throwing this gypsy life at me all the time is either stupid or heartless. If I weren’t looking for quiet and solitude, I wouldn’t be wanting to run away from people, and would I really be marrying you? So try to understand that and don’t go assigning my choice to your virtues, I don’t see them yet. I still only want to fall in love with you; I’m drawn to the quiet family life, it looks like some kind of heaven. You can see I’m standing at the crossroads, so give me support, I need encouragement and sympathy. Deal with me tenderly, with affection. Seize these moments, don’t let them pass.

Karandyshov. Larisa Dmitriyevna, I didn’t mean to offend you at all, somehow the words just came to my tongue…

Larisa. What is that “somehow”? You mean you weren’t thinking, that you didn’t understand your words might be offensive?

Karandyshov. Exactly, I did it without any intent.

Larisa. That makes it even worse. You should think about what you say. Chatter away with others if you like, but with me speak more carefully. Can’t you see my position is very serious! I feel every word I say and hear. I’ve become very sensitive and impressionable.

Karandyshov. In that case please forgive me.

Larisa. All right, only in the future be more careful. (Thoughtfully.) Gypsy camp… Yes, that’s true… but in that camp have been some good and noble people.

Karandyshov. What noble people? You don’t perhaps mean Sergey Sergeyich Paratov?

Larisa. No, please, don’t speak of him.

Karandyshov. And why not?

Larisa. You don’t know him, and even if you did know him, well… forgive me, but it’s not for you to pass judgment on him.

Karandyshov. People are judged by their actions. Do you think he acted well with you?

Larisa. That’s my affair. If I’m afraid to, if I don’t dare to pass judgment on him, then I’m not going to let you do it.

Karandyshov. Larisa Dmitriyevna, tell me something. Only please, speak frankly.

Larisa. What is it?

Karandyshov. How am I any worse than Paratov?

Larisa. Oh no, don’t ask that!

Karandyshov. But why not?

Larisa. Better not, better not! How can there be any comparison!