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 9 
 
 o
 
 THE MODERN DRAMA SERIES 
 EDITED BY EDWIN BJORKMAN 
 
 SAVVA . THE LIFE OF MAN 
 BY LEONID ANDREYEV
 
 SAVVA 
 THE LIFE OF MAN 
 
 TWO PLAYS BY 
 
 LEONID ANDREYEV 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 
 THOMAS SELTZER 
 
 IKi6SI-R£F^ft.t 
 
 tf!wVAD-a3S 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 
 1920
 
 Copyright, 1914, 
 By Little, Brown, and Company, 
 
 This edition is authorized by Leonid Andreyev, who has 
 selected the plays included in it. 
 
 . All Dramatic rights reserved by 
 Edmin Bjorkman 

 
 VGr 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introduction vii 
 
 !^ Chronological List of Plays by Leonid 
 
 Andreyev xvi 
 
 iV Sawa 1 
 
 The Life of Man 151 
 
 
 .« !*• 
 
 * ■ '<■ 
 
 & Oi? a r<W
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 FOR the last twenty years Leonid Andreyev and 
 Maxim Gorky have by turns occupied the centre 
 of the stage of Russian literature. Prophetic vision is 
 no longer required for an estimate of their permanent 
 contribution to the intellectual and literary develop- 
 ment of Russia, It represents the highest ideal ex- 
 pression of a period in Russian history that was preg- 
 nant with stirring and far-reaching events — the period 
 of revolution and counter-revolution. It was a period 
 when Russian society passed from mood to mood at an 
 extremely rapid tempo : from energetic aggressiveness, 
 exultation, high hope, and confident trust in the tri- 
 umph of the people's cause to apathetic inaction, 
 gloom, despair, frivolity, and religious mysticism. 
 This important dramatic epoch in the national life of 
 Russia Andreyev and Gorky wrote down with such 
 force and passion that they became recognized at once 
 as the leading exponents of their time. 
 
 Despite this close external association, their work 
 differs essentially in character. In fact, it is scarcely 
 possible to conceive of greater artistic contrasts. 
 Gorky is plain, direct, broad, realistic, elemental. His 
 art is native, not acquired. Civilization and what 
 learning he obtained later through the reading of books 
 have influenced, not the manner or method of his writ-
 
 viii IxNTRODUCTION 
 
 ing, but only its purpose and occasionally its subject 
 matter. It is significant to watch the dismal failure 
 Gorky makes of it whenever, in concession to the mod- 
 em literary fashion, he attempts the mystical. Sym- 
 bolism is foreign to him except in its broadest aspects. 
 His characters, though hailing from a world but little 
 known, and often extreme and extremely peculiar, are 
 on the whole normal. 
 
 Andreyev, on the other hand, is a child of civiliza- 
 tion, steeped in its culture, and while as rebellious 
 against some of the things of civilization as Gorky, he 
 reacts to them in quite a different way. He is wondrously 
 sensitive to every development, quickly appropriates 
 what is new, and always keeps in the vanguard. His 
 art is the resultant of all that the past ages have given 
 us, of the things that we have learned in our own day, 
 and of what we are just now learning. With this art 
 Andreyev succeeds in communicating ideas, thoughts, 
 and feelings so fine, so tenuous, so indefinite as to 
 appear to transcend human expression. He does not 
 care whether the things he writes about are true, 
 whether his characters are real. What he aims to give 
 is a true impression. And to convey this impression 
 he does not scorn to use mysticism, symbolism, or even 
 plain realism. His favorite characters are degenerates, 
 psychopaths, abnormal eccentrics, or just creatures of 
 fancy corresponding to no reality. Frequently, how- 
 ever, the characters, whether real or unreal, are as 
 such of merely secondary importance, the chief aim 
 being the interpretation of an idea or set of ideas, and 
 the characters functioning primarily only as a medium 
 for the embodiment of those ideas. 
 
 In one respect Gorky and Andreyev are completely
 
 INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 at one — in their bold aggressiveness. The emphatic 
 tone, the attitude of attack, first introduced into Rus- 
 sian literature by Gorky, was soon adopted by most of 
 his young contemporaries, and became the characteris- 
 tic mark of the literature of the Revolution. By that 
 token the literature of Young Russia of that day is 
 as easily recognized as is the English literature of the 
 Dryden and Pope epoch by its sententiousness. It 
 contrasts sharply with the tone of passive resignation 
 and hopelessness of the preceding period. Even Chek- 
 hov, the greatest representative of what may be called 
 the period of despondence, was caught by the new 
 spirit of optimism and activism, so that he reflected 
 clearly the new influence in his later works. But while 
 in Gorky the revolt is chiefly social — manifesting it- 
 self through the world of the submerged tenth, the 
 disinherited masses, les miscrables, who, becoming 
 conscious of their wrongs, hurl defiance at their op- 
 pressors, make mock of their civilization, and threat- 
 en the very foundations of the old order — Andreyev 
 transfers his rebellion to the higher regions of thought 
 and philosophy, to problems that go beyond the merel}' 
 better or worse social existence, and asks the larger, 
 much more difficult questions concerning the general 
 destiny of man, the meaning of life and the reason for 
 death. 
 
 Social problems, it is true, also interest Andreyev. 
 " The Red Laugh " is an attack on war through a por- 
 trayal of the ghastly horrors of the Russo-Japanese 
 War; " Savva," one of the plays of this volume, is 
 taken bodily (with a poet's license, of course) from 
 the actual revolutionary life of Russia ; " King 
 Hunger " is the tragedy of the uprising of the hungry
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 masses and the underworld. Indeed, of the works 
 written during the conflict and for some time afterward, 
 all centre more or less upon the social problems which 
 then agitated Russia. But with Andreyev the treat- 
 ment of all questions tends to assume a universal as- 
 pect. He envisages phenomena from a broad, cosmic 
 point of view; he beholds things sub specie aeternitatis. 
 ^. The philosophical tendency of his mind, though amply 
 displayed even in works like " Savva " — which is 
 purely a character and social drama — manifests itself 
 chiefly by his strong propensity for such subjects as 
 those treated in " To the Stars," " The Life of Man," 
 and " Anathema." In these plays Andreyev plunges 
 into the deepest problems of existence, and seeks to 
 posit once more and, if possible, to solve in accordance 
 with the modern spirit and modern knowledge those 
 questions over which the mightiest brains of man have 
 labored for centuries: Whence? Whither? What is 
 the significance of man's life? Why is death? 
 
 If Spinoza's dictum be true, that "a wise man's medi- 
 tation is not of death but of life," then Andreyev is 
 surely not a wise man. Some philosophers might have 
 written their works even without a guarantee against 
 immortality, though Schopenhauer, who exercised a 
 great influence on the young Andreyev, was of the 
 opinion that " without death there would hardly be 
 any philosophy"; but of Andreyev it is certain that 
 the bulk of his works would not have been written, and 
 could not be what they are, were it not for the fact of 
 -^ death. If there is one idea that can be said to dominate 
 the author of " The Life of Man," it is the idea of 
 death. Constantly he keeps asking: Why all this 
 struggling, all this pain, all this misery in the world,
 
 INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 if it must end in nothing? The suffering of the great 
 mass of mankind makes life meaningless while it lasts, 
 and death puts an end even to this life. Again and 
 again Andreyev harks back to the one thought from 
 which all his other thoughts seem to flow as from their 
 fountain-head. Lazarus, in the story by that name, is 
 but the embodiment of death. All who behold him, 
 who look into his eyes, are never again the same as they 
 were ; indeed, most of them are utterly ruined. " The 
 Seven Who Were Hanged " tells how differently dif- 
 ferent persons take death. Grim death lurks in the 
 background of almost every work, casting a fearful 
 gloom, mocking the life of man, laughing to scorn his 
 joys and his sorrows, propounding, sphinx-like, the 
 big riddle that no Oedipus will ever be able to solve. 
 
 For it is not merely the destructive power of death, 
 not merely its negation of life, that terrifies our author. 
 The pitchy darkness that stretches beyond, the im- 
 possibility of penetrating the veil that separates 
 existence from non-existence — in a word, the riddle 
 of the universe — is, to a mind constituted like 
 Andreyev's, a source of perhaps even greater disquiet. 
 Never was a man hungrier than he with " the insatiable 
 hunger for Eternity '* ; never was a man more eager 
 to pierce the mystery of life and catch a glimpse of 
 the beyond while yet alive. 
 
 Combined with the perplexing darkness that so piti- 
 fully limits man's vision is the indifference of the forces 
 that govern his destiny. The wrongs he suffers may 
 cry aloud to heaven, but heaven does not hear him. 
 Whether he writhe in agony or be prostrated in the 
 dust (against all reason and justice), he has no appeal. 
 Whole societies, the bulk of mankind, may be plunged
 
 xil INTRODUCTION 
 
 in misery — who or what cares? Man is surrounded 
 by indiiference as well as by darkness. 
 
 Often, when an idea has gained a powerful hold on 
 Andreyev, he pursues it a long time, presenting it 
 under various aspects, until at last it assumes its 
 final form, rounded and completed, as it were, in some 
 figure or symbol. As such it appears either as the 
 leading theme of an entire story or drama, or as an 
 important subordinate theme. Thus we have seen that 
 the idea of death finds concrete expression in the 
 character of Lazarus. The idea of loneliness, of the 
 isolation of the individual from all other human beings, 
 even though he be physically surrounded by large num- 
 bers, is embodied in the story of " The City." Simi- 
 larly the conception of the mystery and the indifference 
 by which man finds himself confronted is definitely set 
 forth in the figure of Someone in Gray in " The Life 
 of Man." 
 
 The riddle, the indifference — these are the two char- 
 acteristics of human destiny that loom large in 
 Andreyev's conception of it as set forth in that figure. 
 Someone in Gray — who is he? No one knows. No 
 definite name can be given him, for no one knows. He 
 is mysterious in " The Life of Man," where he is 
 Man's constant companion ; he is mysterious in " Ana- 
 thema," where he guards the gate leading from this 
 finite world to eternity. And as Man's companion he 
 looks on indifferently, apparently unconcerned whether 
 Man meets with good or bad fortune. Man's prayers 
 do not move him. Man's curses leave him calm. 
 
 It is Andreyev's gloomy philosophy, no doubt, that 
 so often causes him to make his heroes lonely, so that 
 loneliness is developed into a principle of human exist-
 
 INTRODUCTION xlil 
 
 ence, in some cases, as in " The City," becoming the 
 dominant influence over a man's life. Particularly the 
 men whom life has treated senselessly and cruelly, whom 
 it has dealt blow after blow until their spirits are 
 crushed out — it is such men in particular who become 
 lonely, seek isolation and retirement, and slink away 
 into some hole to die alone. This is the significance of 
 the saloon scene in " The Life of Man." The environ- 
 ment of the drunkards who are withdrawn from life, 
 and therefore lonely themselves, accentuates the lone- 
 liness of Man in the last scene. It is his loneliness that 
 Andreyev desired to bring into relief. His frequenting 
 the saloon is but an immaterial detail, one of the means 
 of emphasizing this idea. To remove all possible mis- 
 understanding on this point, Andreyev wrote a variant 
 of the last scene, " The Death of Man," in which, in- 
 stead of dying in a saloon surrounded by drunkards, 
 Man dies in his own house surrounded by his heirs. 
 " The loneliness of the dying and unhappy man," 
 Andreyev wrote in a prefatory note to this variant, 
 " may just as fully be characterized by the presence 
 of the Heirs." 
 
 However, for all the gloom of his works, Andreyev is 
 not a pessimist. Under one of his pictures he has 
 written : " Though it destroys individuals, the truth 
 saves mankind." The misery in the world may be ever 
 so great; the problems that force themselves upon 
 man's mind may seem unanswerable ; the happenings 
 in the external world may fill his soul with utter dark- 
 ness, so that he despairs of finding any meaning, any 
 justification in life. And yet, though his reason deny 
 it, his soul tells him : " The truth saves mankind." 
 After all, Man is not a failure. For though misfor-
 
 xiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 tunes crowd upon him, he remains intact in soul, un- 
 broken in spirit. He carries off the victory because he 
 does not surrender. He dies as a superman, big in his 
 defiance of destiny. This must be the meaning An- 
 dreyev attached to Man's life. We find an interpreta- 
 tion of it, as it were, in " Anathema," in which Someone 
 sums up the fate of David — who lived an even sadder 
 life than Man and died a more horrible death — in 
 these words : " David has achieved immortality, and he 
 lives immortal in the deathlessness of fire. David has 
 achieved immortality, and he lives immortal in the 
 deathlessness of light which is life." 
 
 Andreyev was born at Orel in 1871 and was gradu- 
 ated from the gymnasium there. According to his own 
 testimony, he never seems to have been a promising 
 student. " In the seventh form," he tells us, " I was 
 always at the bottom of my class." He lost his father 
 early, and often went hungry while studying law at the 
 University of St. Petersburg. In the University of 
 Moscow, to which he went next, he fared better. One 
 of the means that he used to eke out a livelihood was 
 portrait painting to order, and in this work he finally 
 attained such proficiency that his price rose from $1.50 
 apiece to $6.00. 
 
 In 1897 he began to practise law, but he gave most 
 of his time to reporting court cases for the " Courier," 
 a Moscow newspaper, and later to writing feuUletons 
 and stories. He tried only one civil case, and that one 
 he lost. His work in the " Courier " attracted Gorky's 
 attention, and the older writer zealously interested him- 
 self in Andreyev's behalf. 
 
 In 1902 his story named " The Abyss " appeared 
 and created a sensation immediately. Even Countess
 
 INTRODUCTION xv 
 
 Tolstoy joined in the dispute which raged over this 
 story, attacking it as matter unfit for literature. But 
 the verdict of Andreyev's generation was in his favor. 
 Since then nearly every new work of his has been re- 
 ceived as an important event in Russia and has sent the 
 critics scurrying to his attack or defence. His first 
 drama, " To the Stars," appeared while the Russians 
 were engaged in fighting for liberty (1905), and, 
 naturally enough, it reflects that struggle. " Savva " 
 was published early the next year, and " The Life of 
 Man " later in the same year. The production of 
 *' Savva " is prohibited in Russia. It has been played 
 in Vienna and Berlin, and recently it was staged again 
 in Berlin by " Die Freie Biihne," meeting with signal 
 success.
 
 A CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF PLAYS 
 By LEONID ANDREYEV 
 
 To THE Stars (K Zviezdam), 1905; 
 
 Savva (Savva), 1906; 
 
 The Life of Man (Zhizn Chelovleka), 1906; 
 
 King Hunger (Tzar Golod), 1907; 
 
 The Black Masks (Chiorniya Maski), 1908; 
 
 The Days of Our Life (Dni Nashey Zhizni), 1908; 
 
 Anathema (Anatema), 1909; 
 
 Anfissa (Anfissa), 1909; 
 
 Gaudeamus (Gaudeamus), 1910; 
 
 The Ocean (Okean), 1911; 
 
 " Honor " (" Chest "), 1911 ( ?) ; 
 
 The Pretty Sabine Women (Prekrasniya Sabini- 
 
 anki), 1911; 
 Professor Storitzyn (Professor Storitzyn), 1912; 
 Catherine (Yekaterina Ivanovna), 1913; 
 Thou Shalt not Kill (Ne Ubi), 1914.
 
 SAVVA OR IGNIS SANAT 
 
 (Savva) 
 
 A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS 
 
 1906
 
 PERSONS 
 
 Yegor Ivanovich Tropinin, innkeeper in a monastic suburb. An 
 elderly man of about fifty, unth an important manner and i. stern, 
 digniHed way of speaking. 
 
 Anton (Tony), anywhere from thirty-live to thirty-eight, bloated from 
 drinking and aboays under the influence of alcohol. His face is 
 bloodless, sad, and sleepy. He has a sparse beard, speaks slowly and 
 painfully, and never laughs. 
 
 Olympiad A (Lipa), twenty-eight years old. She is fair and rather good- 
 looking. There is a touch of monastic severity in her dress. 
 
 Sawa, twenty-three, large, broad-shouldered, unth a suggestion of the 
 peasant in his looks. He walks unth a slight stoop, elbows out, feet 
 in. The motions of his hands are rounded and graceful, his palms 
 being turned up as if he were carrying something. His features are 
 large and rough-hewn, and his cheeks and chin are covered with a 
 soft light down. When agitated or angry, he turns gray as dust, his 
 movements become quick and agile, and his stoop disappears. He 
 wears the blouse and boots of a workingman. 
 
 Pelagueta, a freckled, colorless woman, of about thirty, wearing the 
 ordinary dress of her class. She is dirty and untidy. 
 
 Speranskt Grigory Petrovich, an ex-seminarist; tall, very lean, unth 
 a pale, long face, and a tuft of dark hair on his chin. He has long, 
 smooth hair parted in the middle and falling on each side of his face. 
 He is dressed either in a long, dark overcoat or in a dark frock-coat. 
 
 Father Kondraty, a friar, forty-two years old, ugly, narrow-chested, 
 
 unth swollen, animated eyes. 
 Vassya, a novice, a strong and athletic youth of nineteen. He has a round, 
 
 cheerful, smiling face, and curly, lustrous hair. 
 
 King Herod, a pilgrim, about fifty. He has a dry, emaciated face, black 
 from sunburn and road dust. His gray, dishevelled hair and beard 
 give him a savage appearance. He has only one arm, the left. He is 
 as tall as Sawa. 
 
 A Fat Monk. 
 
 A Gray Monk. 
 
 A Man in Peasant Overcoat. 
 
 Monks, pilgrims, cripples, beggars, blind men and women, monstrosities. 
 
 The action takes place at the beginning of the tioentieth century in a rich 
 monastery celebrated for its wonder-working ikon of the Saviour. There 
 is an interval of about two weeks between the first and the last act.
 
 SAVVA 
 
 THE FIRST ACT 
 
 The interior of a house in a monastic suburb. Two 
 rooms, with a third seen back of them. They are old, 
 ramshackle, and filthy. The first one is a sort of 
 dining-room, large, with dirty, low ceiling and smeared 
 wall-paper that in places has come loose from the wall. 
 There are three little windows; the one giving on the 
 yard reveals a shed, a wagon, and some household 
 utensils. Cheap wooden furniture; a large, bare table. 
 On the walls, which are dotted with flies, appear pic- 
 tures of monks and views of the monastery. The sec- 
 ond room, a parlor, is somewhat cleaner. It has win- 
 dow curtains of muslin, two flower-pots with dried 
 geraniums, a sofa, a round table covered with a table- 
 cloth, and shelves with dishes. The door to the left in 
 the first room leads to the tavern. When open, it ad- 
 mits the sound of a man's doleful, monotonous singing. 
 
 It is noon of a hot and perfectly still summer's day. 
 Now and then the clucking of hens is heard under the 
 windows. The clock in the belfry of the monastery 
 strikes every half -hour, a long, indistinct wheeze pre- 
 ceding the first stroke. 
 
 Pelagueya, who is pregnant, is scrubbing the floor. 
 Seized with giddiness, she staggers to her feet and leans 
 against the wall, staring before her with a vacant gaze.
 
 4 SAW A [act I 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 Oh, God! (She starts to scrub the floor again) 
 LiPA (enters, faint from heat) 
 
 How stifling! I don't know what to do with myself. 
 My head seems full of pins and needles. {She sits 
 down) Polya, say, Polya. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 What is it.? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Where 's father? 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 He 's sleeping. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Oh, I can't stand it. (She opens the window, then 
 takes a turn round the room, moving aimlessly and 
 glancing into the tavern) Tony 's sleeping too — 
 behind the counter. It would be nice to go in bath- 
 ing, but it 's too hot to walk to the river. Polya, 
 why don't you speak.? Say something. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 What.? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Scrubbing, scrubbing, all the time. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 Yes. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 And in a day from now the floors will be dirty again. 
 I don't see what pleasure you get from working the 
 way you do. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 I have to. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I just took a peep at the street. It 's awful. Not a
 
 ACT i] SAVVA 6 
 
 human being in sight, not even a dog. All is dead. 
 And the monastery has such a queer look. It seems 
 to be hanging in the air. You have the feeling that 
 if you were to blow on it, it would begin to swing 
 and fly away. Why are you so silent, Polya.' 
 Where is Sawa.'' Have you seen him.'' 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 He's in the pasture playing jackstones with the 
 children. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 He 's a funny fellow. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 I don't see anything funny about it. He ought to 
 be working, that 's what he ought to be doing, not 
 playing like a baby. I don't like your Savva. 
 LiPA (lazily) 
 
 No, Polya, he is good. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 Good.-* I spoke to him and told him how hard the 
 work was for me. " Well," he says, " if you want to 
 be a horse, pull." What did he come here for.? I 
 wish he 'd stayed where he was. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 He came home to see his folks. Why, it 's ten years 
 since he left. He was a mere boy then. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 A lot he cares for his folks. Yegor Ivanovich is just 
 dying to get rid of him. The neighbors don't know 
 what to make of him either. He dresses like a work- 
 ingman and carries himself like a lord, does n't speak 
 to anybody and just rolls his eyes like a saint. I 
 am afraid of his eyes.
 
 6 SAVVA [act I 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Nonsense. He has beautiful eyes. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 Can't he see that it 's hard for me to be doing all 
 the housework myself? A while ago he saw me carry- 
 ing a pail full of water. I was straining with all 
 my might. He did n't even say good morning; just 
 passed on. I have met a lot of people in my life, but 
 never anybody whom I disliked so much. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I 'm so hot, everything seems to be turning round 
 like wheels. Listen, Polya, if you don't want to 
 work, don't. No one compels you to. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 If I won't work, who will? Will you? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 No, I won't. We '11 hire a servant. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 Yes, of course, you have plenty of money. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 And what 's the use of keeping it? 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 I '11 die soon and then you '11 get a servant. I won't 
 last much longer. I have had one miscarriage, and 
 I guess a second child will be the end of me. I don't 
 care. It 's better than to live the way I do. Oh ! 
 {She clasps her waist) 
 
 LIPA 
 
 But for God's sake, who is asking you to? Stop 
 working. Don't scrub. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 Yes, stop it, and all of you will be going about say- 
 ing: " How dirty the house is ! "
 
 ACT i] SAVVA 
 
 LiPA {weary from the heat and Pelagueya's talk) 
 Oh, I 'm so tired of it ! 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 Don't you think I feel tired too? What are you 
 complaining about anyhow? You are a lady. All you 
 have to do is pray and read. I don't even get time 
 to pray. Some day I '11 drop into the next world all 
 of a sudden just as I am, with my skirt tucked up 
 under my belt: " Good morning! How d' you do! " 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You '11 be scrubbing floors in the next world too. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 No, in the next world it 's you who '11 be scrubbing 
 floors, and I '11 sit with folded hands like a lady. In 
 heaven we '11 be the first ones, while you and your 
 Sawa, for your pride and your hard hearts — 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Now, Polya, am I not sorry for you? 
 YEGOR ivANOvicH TROPiNiN (enters, still sleepy, his 
 heard turned to one side, the collar of his shirt un- 
 buttoned; breathing heavily) Whew ! Say, Polya, 
 bring me some cider. Quick! (Pause) Who opened 
 the window? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I did. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 What for? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 It 's hot. The stove in the restaurant makes it so 
 close here you can't breathe. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Shut it, shut it, I say. If it 's too hot for you, you 
 can go down into the cellar.
 
 8 SAVVA [act I 
 
 LI PA 
 
 But what do you want to have the window shut for? 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Because. Shut it ! You have been told to shut the 
 window — then shut it! What are you waiting for? 
 {Lipa, shrugging her shoulders, closes the window 
 and is about to leave) Where are you going? The 
 moment your father appears, you run away. Sit 
 down! 
 
 T 
 
 LIPA 
 
 But you don't want me. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Never mind whether I want you or not — sit down ! 
 Oh, my! {He yawns and crosses himself) Where 
 is Savva? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I don't know. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Tell him I '11 turn him out. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Tell him so yourself. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Fool! {He yawns and crosses himself) Oh, Lord 
 Jesus Christ, have mercy on us sinners! What was 
 it I was dreaming about just now? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I don't know. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Who asked you? You stupid, how could you tell 
 what I was dreaming? You 've got brains, have n't 
 you? 
 PELAGUEYA {handing him cider) 
 There.
 
 ACT i] SAVVA 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 There. Put it down and don't " there " me. ( Takes 
 the jug and drinks) What was I talking about.'' 
 (Pelagueya finishes scrubbing tlve floor) Oh yes, 
 about the Father Superior. A smart fellow he is. 
 You '11 have to go a long way to find another like 
 him. He had the old coffin exchanged for a new one. 
 The pilgrims chewed the old one to pieces, so he put 
 a new one in its place. He put a new one in place 
 of the old one. They '11 chew this one to pieces 
 too, the fools ! Anything you give them, the fools ! 
 Do you hear or don't you.'' 
 
 LI PA 
 
 I hear. What 's so remarkable about it .'' A swindle, 
 that 's all. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 What 's remarkable about it is that he did n't ask 
 your advice. They chewed the old one to pieces, so 
 he put a new one in its place exactly like it. Yes, 
 just exactly like the one in which the saint lay be- 
 fore. Remember us in heaven where thou dwellest, 
 
 Saint! (He crosses himself and yawns) You can 
 lose your teeth on this one too. They chewed the old 
 one to pieces completely. Where are you off to.'' 
 Sit down! 
 
 LIPA 
 
 1 can't, it 's so hot in here. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 But I can. Sit down, you won't melt. (Pause) 
 They chewed up the old one, so he put up a new one. 
 Where is Savva.'' 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 He 's playing jackstones with the children.
 
 10 SAVVA [act I 
 
 YEGOE 
 
 I 'm not asking you. What time is it? 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 It just struck two. 
 
 YEGOB 
 
 Tell him I '11 turn him out. I won't stand it. 
 
 1.IPA 
 
 Stand what? Be reasonable. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 I won't stand it. Who is he anyway? Never at 
 home in time for dinner. He comes and feeds like a 
 dog by himself — knocks about at night and does n't 
 lock the gate. I went out yesterday and found the 
 gate wide open. If we are robbed, who '11 pay for it? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 There are no thieves here. What thieves have you 
 ever seen in this place? 
 
 YEGOE 
 
 What thieves? A lot. When all people are asleep, 
 he is knocking about. Who ever heard of such a 
 thing? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 But if he does n''t want to sleep, what is he to do? 
 
 YEGOE 
 
 What, you too ? He does n't want to ? Let him go 
 to bed, and he '11 sleep. No one wants to sleep, but 
 once you lie down you fall asleep. He does n't want 
 to? I know him. Who asked him to come? He 
 was making bank-notes over there — then why did n't 
 he stay where he was and do what he pleased? What 
 business has he here? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 What bank-notes?
 
 ACT i] SAVVA 11 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 What bank-notes? Not real ones. Nothing is done 
 to you for making real bank-notes. Counterfeit 
 bank-notes, that 's what. Not the sort of thing you 
 get patted on the head for, when you are caught, no 
 sirree ! It 's very strict now. I '11 go to the police 
 captain and tell him: "It's like this — just search 
 him." 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Oh, nonsense. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 You are the only one who does n't know it. Every- 
 body else knows it. 
 
 I.IPA 
 
 Oh, Lord! 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Well, about the Lord we know better than you. You 
 need n't appeal to Him. I want you to tell Savva 
 that I am not afraid of him. He did n't strike the 
 right person. I '11 just make him skip. I '11 turn 
 him out. Let him go where he came from. The idea 
 of my having to be responsible for his robberies. 
 Who 's ever heard of such a thing.'' 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You are not quite wide awake, father, that 's what 's 
 the matter with you. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 I am wide awake all right, and have been for a long 
 time. What I 'd like to know is, are you, wide 
 awake.? Look out, Lipa, don't let it happen to 
 you too. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 What.?
 
 12 SAVVA [act I 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 It. {He yawns and crosses himself) If mother were 
 to rise from her grave now and see her children, she 
 would be delighted. Fine children, she would say. 
 I have nursed you, and brought you up, and what 's 
 the result? Regular good-for-nothing scamps. 
 Tony '11 soon begin to drink again. I can see it on 
 his face. Who 's ever heard of such a thing? Peo- 
 ple will soon be coming here for the feast-day, and 
 I '11 have to work alone for the whole bunch. Polya, 
 hand me that match from the floor — there. No, not 
 there, you blind goose. There, you stupid. 
 PELAGUEYA {hunting for the match) 
 I don't see it. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 I '11 take you by the back of your neck and give you 
 such a shaking that you '11 see mighty quick. There 
 it is, damn you ! 
 LiPA {faint) 
 
 Oh, God, what a blistering heat ! 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 There it is. Where are you crawling? Under the 
 chair. There, damn you ! 
 SAVVA {enters gayly, the pocket of his blouse full of 
 jackstones) I won six pair. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Well, the idea ! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I finished that rascal Misha, cleared him all up. 
 What are you mumbling about there? 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Nothing. Only I wish you 'd address me a little 
 more politely.
 
 ACT i] SAVVA 13 
 
 SAVVA (^paying no attention to him) 
 Lipa, I won six pair. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 How can you play in such heat? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Wait, I am going to put the jackstones away. I 
 have eighteen pair now. Misha, the little rascal, 
 plays well. {He goes out) 
 YEGOR [rising) 
 
 I don't want to see him any more. Tell him to get 
 out of here at once. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 All right, I will. 
 
 YEGOE 
 
 Don't say "all right," but do what your father tells 
 you. A fine lot of brats — that's a sure thing! 
 Yes, yes. (Goes) If mother saw them — 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 He speaks of mother as if he were n't the one that 
 drove her to an early grave. He talked her to death, 
 the old scold ! He just talks and talks, and nags and 
 nags, and he does n't know himself what he wants. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 To be with you is like being caught in the wheel of 
 a machine. My head is spinning round and round. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 Then why don't you go away with your Sa\^'a? 
 What are you waiting for.'' 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Look here, why are you angry with me.** 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 I am not angry. I am telling the truth. You don't
 
 U SAVVA [act 1 
 
 want to marry. You are disgusted with all your 
 beaux. Why don't you go into a convent.'* 
 
 JAVA 
 
 I won't go into a convent, but I will go away from 
 here, soon enough, I think. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 Well, go ! No one is keeping you. The road is wide 
 open. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Ah, Polya, you are angry and sulky with me. You 
 don't know how I spend my nights thinking about 
 you. At night I lie awake and think and think about 
 you, and about all the people that are unhappy — 
 all of them. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 What do you want to think about me for? You had 
 better think about yourself. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 And no one knows it. Well, what 's the use of talk- 
 ing? You could n't understand anyhow. I am sorry 
 for you, Polya. {Pelagueya laughs) What 's the 
 matter? 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 If you are sorry for me, why don't you carry out 
 that pail? The way I am, I shouldn't be lifting 
 heavy things. Why don't you help me, if you are so 
 sorry for me? 
 
 I.IPA {her face darkening, then brightening again) 
 Give it to me. {She picks up the pail and starts to 
 carry it away) 
 
 PELAGUEYA {sfitefully) 
 
 Hypocrite! Let go! Where are you going? {She 
 carries out the pail and returns for the other things)
 
 ACT 
 
 i] SAVVA 15 
 
 SAVVA {entering; to his sister) 
 Why is your face so red? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 It's hot. 
 [^Pelagueya laughs. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Say, Pelagueya, has Kondraty inquired for me? 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 Kondraty ! What Kondraty ? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Kondraty, the friar; he looks something like a 
 sparrow. 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 I did n't see any Kondraty. Like a sparrow ! That 's 
 a funny way of putting it. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Tell Tony to come here, won't you? 
 
 PELAGUEYA 
 
 Tell him yourself. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Well, well! 
 PELAGUEYA {cttlls through the door before she goes out 
 ■ into the tavern) Anthony, Sawa wants you. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 What do you want him for? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What a queer habit you have here of plying a person 
 
 with questions all the time. Where, who, why, what 
 
 for? 
 LIPA {slightly offended) 
 
 You need n't answer if you don't want to. 
 TOXY {enters, speaking slowly and with difficulty) 
 
 Who wants me?
 
 16 SAVVA [act 1 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I am expecting Kondraty here — you know Kon- 
 draty, don't you? Send him in when he comes. 
 
 TONY 
 
 Who are you? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 And send in two bottles of whiskey too, do you hear? 
 
 TONY 
 
 Maybe I do and maybe I don't. Maybe I'll send 
 the whiskey and maybe I won't. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What a sceptic. You 've grown silly, Tony. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Leave him alone, Savva. He has got that from the 
 seminary student, from Speransky. Anyhow, he is 
 full of — 
 TONY (sitting down) 
 
 I did n't get it from anybody. I can understand 
 everything myself. The blood has congealed in my 
 heart. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 That 's from drink, Tony. Stop drinking. 
 
 TONY 
 
 The blood has congealed in my heart. You think I 
 don't know what 's what. A while ago you were n't 
 here with us, and all of a sudden you came. Yes, I 
 understand everything. I have visions. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What do you see? God? 
 
 TONY 
 
 There is no God. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 How's that?
 
 ACT i] SAVVA 17 
 
 TONY 
 
 And no devil either. There 's nothing, no people, no 
 animals, nothing. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What is there then.'' 
 
 TONY 
 
 There are only faces, a whole lot of faces. It 's 
 faces, faces, faces. They are very funny, and I 
 keep laughing all the time. I just sit still, and the 
 faces come jumping and gliding past me, jumping 
 and gliding. You 've got a very funny face too, 
 Sawa. {Sadly) It 's enough to make one die of 
 laughter. 
 SAVVA {laughing gayly) 
 
 What kind of a face have I.^* 
 
 TONY 
 
 That's the kind of face you have. {Pointing his 
 finger at him) She also has a face, and she. And 
 father too. And then there are other faces. There 
 are a lot of faces. I sit in the tavern and see 
 everything. Nothing escapes me. You can't fool 
 me. Some faces are small and some are large, and 
 all of them glide and glide — Some are far away, 
 and some are as close to me as if they wanted to kiss 
 me or bite my nose. They have teeth. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 All right, Tony, now you can go. We '11 talk about 
 the faces later. Your own face is funny enough. 
 
 TONY 
 
 Yes, of course. I, too, have a face. 
 
 SAWA 
 
 All right, all right. Go now. Don't forget to send 
 in the whiskey.
 
 18 - SAVVA [act I 
 
 TONY 
 
 As in the daytime so at night. A lot of faces. 
 {From the door) And in regards to whiskey, maybe 
 I '11 send it and maybe I won't. I can't tell yet. 
 SAVVA {to Lipa) 
 
 Has he been that way a long time? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I don't know. I think so. He drinks an awful lot. 
 PELAGUEY {going) 
 
 No wonder. You 're enough to drive a man to drink. 
 Cranks. {Exit) 
 
 LIPA 
 
 My, how stifling ! I don't know what to do with my- 
 self. Say, Savva, why aren't you nicer to Polya.'' 
 She is such a wretched creature. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 A slavish soul. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 It is n't her fault if she 's that way. 
 SAVVA {coldly) 
 Nor mine either. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Oh, Savva, if you only knew the terrible life people 
 lead here. The men drink, and beat their wives, and 
 the women — 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I know. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You say it so calmly. I have been wanting very 
 much to have a talk with you. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Go ahead.
 
 ACT i] SAVVA 19 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You '11 soon be leaving us, I suppose. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Then I won't have any chance to talk to you. You 
 are scarcely ever at home. This is the first time, 
 pretty nearly. It seems so strange that you should 
 enjoy playing with the children, you a grown man, 
 big as a bear. 
 SAVVA (merrily) 
 
 No, Lipa, they play very well. Misha is very good 
 at the game, and I have a hard time holding up my 
 end of it. I lost him three pairs yesterday. 
 
 UFA 
 
 Why, he is only ten years old. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Well, what of it? The children are the only human 
 beings here. They are the wisest part of the — 
 
 LIPA (with a smile) 
 
 And I? How about me.'' 
 
 SAVVA (looking at her) 
 
 You.'' Why, you are like the rest. 
 [^ pause. Being offended, Li pa's languor disap- 
 pears to some extent, 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Maybe I bore you. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No, you make no difference to me one way or an- 
 other. I am never bored. 
 LIPA (with a constrained smile) 
 
 Thank you, I am glad of that at least. Were you
 
 20 SAVVA [act I 
 
 in the monastery to-day? You go there often, don't 
 you? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, I was there. Why? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I suppose you don't remember — I love our monas- 
 tery. It is so beautiful. At times it looks so pen- 
 sive. I like it because it 's so old. Its age gives it 
 a solemnity, a stern serenity and detachment. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Do you read many books? 
 lAFA ( blushing ) 
 
 I used to read a lot. You know I spent four win- 
 ters in Moscow with Aunt Glasha. Why do you ask? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Never mind. Go on. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Does what I say sound ridiculous? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No, go on. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 The monastery is really a remarkable place. There 
 are nice spots there which no one ever visits, some- 
 where between the mute walls, where there is nothing 
 but grass and fallen stones and a lot of old, old litter. 
 I love to linger there, especially at twilight, or on 
 hot sunny days like to-day. I close my eyes, and I 
 seem to look far, far into the distant past — at 
 those who built it and those who first prayed in it. 
 There they walk along the path carrying bricks and 
 singing something, so softly, so far away. (Closing 
 her eyes') So softly, so softly.
 
 ACT i] SAVVA 21 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I don't like the old. As to the building of the mon- 
 astery, it was done by serfs, of course; and when 
 they carried bricks they did n't sing, but quarrelled 
 and cursed one another. That 's more like it. 
 
 LiPA (opening her eyes) 
 
 Those are my dreams. You see, Sawa, I am all 
 alone here. I have nobody to talk to. Tell me — 
 You won't be angry, will you? — Tell me, just mo 
 alone, why did you come here to us.^* It wasn't to 
 pray. It was n't for the feast-day. You don't look 
 like a pilgrim. 
 
 SAVVA (frowning) 
 
 I don't like you to be so curious. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 How can you think I am? Do I look as if I were 
 curious? You have been here for two weeks, and 
 you ought to see that I am lonely. I am lonely, 
 Sawa. Your coming was to me like manna fallen 
 from the sky. You are the first living human being 
 that has come here from over there, from real life. 
 In Moscow I lived very quietly, just reading my 
 books ; and here — you see the sort of people we 
 have here. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Do you think it 's different in other places ? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I don't know. That 's what I should like to find out 
 from you. You have seen so much. You have even 
 been abroad. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Only for a short time.
 
 22 SAVVA [act t 
 
 LIPA 
 
 That makes no difference. You have met many cul- 
 tured, wise, interesting people. You have lived with 
 them. How do they live.'' What kind of people 
 are they? Tell me all about it. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 A mean, contemptible lot. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Is that so.'' You don't say so! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 They live just as you do here — a stupid, senseless 
 existence. The only difference is in the language 
 they speak. But that makes it still worse. The 
 justification for cattle is that they are without 
 speech. But when the cattle become articulate, begin 
 to speak, defend themselves and express ideas, then 
 the situation becomes intolerable, unmitigatedly re- 
 pulsive. Their dwelling-places are different too — 
 yes — but that 's a small thing. I was in a city 
 inhabited by a hundred thousand people. The win- 
 dows in the house of that city are all small. Those 
 living in them are all fond of light, but it never 
 occurs to anyone that the windows might be made 
 larger. And when a new house is built, they put 
 in the same kind of windows, just as small, just as 
 they have always been. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 The idea ! I never would have thought it. But they 
 can't all be like that. You must have met good peo- 
 ple who knew how to live. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I don't know how to make you understand. Yes, I 
 did meet, if not altogether good people, yet — -
 
 ACT 
 
 i] SAVVA - 23 
 
 The last people with whom I lived were a pretty good 
 sort. They did n't accept life ready-made, but tried 
 to make it over to suit themselves. But — 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Who were they — students? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No. Look here — how about your tongue — is it of 
 the loose kind? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Savva, you ought to be ashamed! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 All right. Now then. You 've read of people who 
 make bombs — little bombs, you understand? Now 
 if they see anybody who interferes with life, they 
 take him off. They 're called anarchists. But that 
 isn't quite correct. {Contemptuously) Nice an- 
 archists they are! 
 LIPA {startmg hack, awestruck) 
 
 What are you talking about? You can't possibly 
 be in earnest. It isn't true. And you in it, too? 
 Why, you look so simple and talk so simply, and 
 suddenly — I was hot a moment ago, but now I am 
 cold. {The rooster crows under the window, calling 
 the chickens to share some seed he has found) 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 There now — you 're frightened. First you want 
 me to tell you, and then — 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Don't mind me, Sawa, it 's nothing. It was so 
 unexpected. I thought such people did n't really 
 exist — that they were just a fiction of the imagina- 
 tion. And then, all of a sudden, to find you, my
 
 24 SAVVA [act i 
 
 brother — You are not joking, Savva? Look me 
 straight in the eye. • 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 But why did you get frightened? They are not so 
 terrible after all. In fact, they are very quiet, 
 orderly people, and very deliberate. They meet and 
 meet, and weigh and consider a long time, and then 
 — bang ! — a sparrow drops dead. The next min- 
 ute there is another sparrow in its place, hopping 
 about on the very same branch. Why are you look- 
 ing at my hands.'' 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Oh, nothing. Give me your hand — no, your right 
 hand. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Here. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 How heavy it is. Feel how cold mine are. Go on, 
 tell me all about it. It 's so interesting. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What 's there to tell ? They are a brave set of peo- 
 ple, I must admit ; but it is a bravery of the head, 
 not of the hands. And their heads are partitioned 
 off into little chambers; they are always careful 
 not to do anything which is unnecessary or harm- 
 ful. Now you can't clear a dense forest by cutting 
 down one tree at a time, can you? That's what 
 they do. While they chop at one end, it grows up 
 at the other. You can't accomplish anything that 
 way ; it 's labor lost. I proposed a scheme to them, 
 something on a larger scale. They got frightened, 
 would n't hear of it. A little weak-kneed they are.
 
 ACT i] SAVVA 25 
 
 So I left them. Let them practise virtue. A narrow- 
 minded bunch. They lack breadth of vision. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You say it as calmly as if you were joking. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No, I am not joking. 
 
 I.IPA 
 
 Aren't you afraid.? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I? So far I haven't been, and I don't ever expect 
 to be. What worse can happen to a man than to 
 have been bom? It 's like asking a man who is 
 drowning whether he is not afraid of getting wet. 
 (Laughs) 
 
 LIPA 
 
 So that 's the kind you are. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 One thing I learned from them: respect for dyna- 
 mise. It 's a powerful instrument, dynamite is — 
 nothing like it for a convincing argument. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You are only twenty-three years old. You have no 
 beard yet, not even a moustache. 
 SAVVA (feeling Ms face) 
 
 Yes, a measly growth; but what conclusions do you 
 draw from that? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Fear will come to you yet. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No. If I have n't been frightened so far by watch- 
 ing life, there 's nothing else to fear. Life, yes. I 
 embrace the earth with my eyes, the whole of it, the
 
 26 SAVVA [act I 
 
 entire little planetoid, and I can find nothing more 
 terrible on it than man and human life. And I am 
 not afraid of man. 
 LiPA (^scarcely listening to him; ecstatic ally) 
 
 Yes, that 's the word. That 's it. Savva, dear, I 
 am not afraid of bodily suffering either. Burn me 
 on a slow fire. Cut me to pieces, I won't cry. I '11 
 laugh. I know I will. But there is another thing 
 I am afraid of. I am afraid of people's suffering, of 
 the misery from which they cannot escape. When 
 in the stillness of the night, broken only by the 
 striking of the hours, I think of how much suffer- 
 ing there is all around us — aimless, needless suf- 
 fering ; suffering one does n't even know of — when 
 I think of that, I am chilled with terror. I go down 
 on my knees and pray. I pray to God, saying to 
 Him : " Oh, Lord, if there has to be a victim, take 
 me, but give the people joy, give them peace, give 
 them forgetfulness. Oh, Lord, all powerful as Thou 
 art — " 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I have read about a man who was eaten by an eagle, 
 and his flesh grew again overnight. If my body 
 could turn into bread and joy for the people, I 
 would consent to live in eternal torture in order to 
 feed the unfortunate. There '11 soon be a holiday 
 here in the monastery — 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I know. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 There is an ikon of the Saviour there with the touch
 
 ACT i] SAVVA 27 
 
 ing inscription : " Come unto me, all ye that labour 
 and are heavy laden — 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 And I will give you rest." I know. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 It is regarded as a wonder-working ikon. Go there 
 on the feast-day. It 's like a torrent pouring into 
 the monastery, an ocean rolling toward its walls ; 
 and this whole ocean is made up entirely of human 
 tears, of human sorrow and misery. Such monstros- 
 ities, such cripples. After witnessing one of those 
 scenes, I walk about as in a dream. There are faces 
 with such a depth of misery in them that one can 
 never forget them as long as one lives. Why, Savva, 
 I was a gay young thing before I saw all that. 
 There is one man who comes here every year — 
 they have nicknamed him King Herod — 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 He is here already. I 've seen him. 
 
 I>IPA 
 
 Have you-f* 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, he has got a tragic face. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Long ago, when still a young man, he killed his son 
 by accident, and from that day he keeps coming here. 
 He has an awful face. And all of them are waiting 
 for a miracle. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes. There is something worse than inescapable 
 human suffering, however. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 What?
 
 28 SAVVA [act i 
 
 SAVVA {lightly) 
 
 Inescapable human stupidity. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I don't know. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I do. Here you see only a small fragment of life, 
 but if you could see and hear all of it — When I 
 first read their newspapers, I laughed and thought 
 it was a joke. I thought they were published in 
 some asylum for the insane. But I found it was no 
 joke. It was really serious, Lipa, really serious. 
 And then my head began to ache with an intolerable 
 pain. {He presses his hand to his forehead) 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Your head began to ache.'' 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes. It 's a peculiar pain. You don't know what it 
 is like. Few people know what it is. And the pain 
 continued until I resolved — 
 
 LIPA 
 
 What.? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 To annihilate everything. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 What are you saying.? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, yes, everything. All that 's old. 
 LIPA {in amazement) 
 And man? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Man is to remain, of course. What is in his way 
 is the stupidity that, piling up for thousands of 
 years, has grown into a mountain. The modern
 
 ACT l] SAVVA Of) 
 
 sages want to build on this mountain, but that, of 
 course, will lead to nothing but making the mountain 
 still higher. It is the mountain itself that must be 
 removed. It must be levelled to its foundation, down 
 to the bare earth. Do you understand.'' 
 
 LIPA 
 
 No, I don't understand you. You talk so strangely. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Annihilate everything! The old houses, the old 
 cities, the old literature, the old art. Do you know 
 what art is.? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Yes, of course I know — pictures, statues. I went 
 to the Tretyakov art gallery. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 That 's it — the Tretyakov, and other galleries that 
 are bigger still. There are some good things in them, 
 but it will be still better to have the old stuff out of 
 the way. All the old dress must go. Man must be 
 stripped bare and left naked on a naked earth ! 
 Then he will build up a new life. The earth must be 
 denuded, Lipa; it must be stripped of its hideous 
 old rags. It deserves to be arrayed in a king's 
 mantle; but what have they done with it.? They 
 have dressed it in coarse fustian, in convict clothes. 
 They 've built cities, the idiots ! 
 
 LIPA 
 
 But who will do it.? Who 's going to destroy every- 
 thing? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You?
 
 30 SAVVA [act I 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, I. I '11 begin, and then, when people get to 
 understand what I am after, others will join in. The 
 work will proceed merrily, Lipa. The sky will be 
 hot. Yes. The only thing not worth destroying is 
 science. That would be useless. Science is un- 
 changeable, and if you destroyed it to-day, it would 
 rise up again the same as before. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 How much blood will have to be shed.? Why, it 's 
 horrible ! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No more than has been shed already — and there 'U 
 be rhyme and reason to it, at least. {Pause; the 
 hens cluck in the yard; from the same direction 
 comes Tony's sleepy voice: " Poly a, father wants 
 you. Where did you put his cap? ") 
 
 LIPA 
 
 What a scheme! Are you not joking, Savva? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 You make me sick with your " you are joking, you 
 are joking." 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I am afraid of you, Sawa. You are so serious 
 about it. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, there are many people who are afraid of me. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 If you would only smile a little. 
 SAVVA (looking at her with wide-open eyes and a frank 
 face, and breaking abruptly i/nto a clear, ringing 
 laugh) Oh, you funny girl, what should I be smiling
 
 ACT i] SAVVA 31 
 
 for? I 'd rather laugh. (Both laugh) Are you 
 afraid of tickling? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Stop it ! What a boy you are still ! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 All right. And Kondraty is n't here yet. I wonder 
 why. Do you think the devil has taken him? The 
 devil is fond of monks, you know. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 What strange fancies you have. Why, now you 
 are j oking — 
 SAVVA (somewhat surprised) 
 They are not fancies. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 My fancies are different. You are a dear now, be- 
 cause you talk to me. In the evening I '11 tell you 
 all about myself. We '11 take a walk together, and 
 I '11 tell you everything. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Very well, I '11 listen. Why should n't I? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Tell me, Savva, if I may ask — are you in love with 
 a woman? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Ah, switched around to the subject of love after all 
 — just like a woman! I hardly know what to say. 
 I did love a girl, in a way, but she did n't stick it out. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Stick out what? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 My love, or perhaps myself. All I know is that one 
 fine day she went away and left me.
 
 32 SAVVA [act i 
 
 LiPA ( laughing ) 
 And you? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Nothing. I remained alone. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Have you any friends, comrades.'* 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No. 
 
 XIPA 
 
 Any enemies? I mean is there anyone whom you 
 particularly dislike, whom you hate? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes — God. 
 LIPA (incredulously) 
 What? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 God, I say — the one whom you call your Saviour. 
 LIPA (shouting) 
 
 Don't dare speak that way ! You 've gone out of 
 your mind! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Ah! I touched your sensitive spot, did I? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Don't you dare! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I thought you were a gentle dove, but you have a 
 tongue like a snake's. (He imitates the movements 
 of a snake's tongue with his finger) 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Good Lord ! How dare you, how can you speak like 
 that of the Saviour? Why, one dares not look at 
 him. Why have you come here?
 
 ACT i] SAVVA 33 
 
 \^Kondraty appears at the door of the tavern, looks 
 around, and enters quietly. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy 
 Ghost ! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Amen ! You 're very late, my gracious lord ! 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 I did the will of him who sent me. I was picking 
 young little cucumbers for the Father Superior. He 
 has them made into a dainty dish which he loves 
 dearly for an appetizer. My, what infernal heat ! 
 I was in pools of perspiration before I got through. 
 SAVVA (to Lipa) 
 
 You see, here is a monk. He likes a drink. His 
 cussing vocabulary is n't bad. He is no fool, and as 
 to women — 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Don't embarrass the young lady, Mr. Tropinin. In 
 the presence of a lady — 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 And furthermore, he does n't believe in God. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 He is joking. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I don't like such jokes. What have you come hero 
 for? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 I am here by invitation. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I have some business with him. 
 LIPA (without looking at Savva) 
 What have you come here for.''
 
 34 SAVVA [act i 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 For nothing that concerns you. You had better 
 have a talk with him. He is a chap that possesses 
 a great deal of curiosity. He 's not a fool, either, 
 but knows what 's what. 
 LiPA {looking search'mgly at Savva) 
 
 I know him well, I know him very well. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 To my regret I must admit it 's true. I have the 
 unenviable fortune of being known as a man who 
 does not observe the outer forms of conduct. It is 
 on account of that characteristic I was fired from 
 my position as government clerk, and it 's on that 
 account I am now frequently condemned to live for 
 weeks on nothing but bread and water. I cannot act 
 in secret. I am open and above-board. In fact, 
 I fairly cry aloud whatever I do. For example, the 
 circumstances under which I met you, Mr. Tropinin, 
 are such that I am ashamed to recall them. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Don't recall them then. 
 
 KONDRATY (to L'lpa) 
 
 I was lying in a mud puddle in all my dignity, like 
 a regular hog. 
 LIP A {disgusted) 
 All right. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 But I am not ashamed to speak of it ; first, because 
 many people saw it, and of course nobody took the 
 trouble to get me out of it except Sawa Yegorovich, 
 and secondly, because I regard this as my cross. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 A fine cross!
 
 ACT i] SAVVA 35 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Every man, Miss Olympiada, has his cross. It is n't 
 so very nice to be lying in a mud puddle. Dry 
 ground is pleasanter every time. And do 3'^ou know, 
 I think half of the water in that puddle was my own 
 tears, and my woeful lamentations made ripples on 
 it — 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 That 's not quite so, Kondraty. You were singing 
 a song: " And we 're baptized of him in Jordan " — 
 to a very jolly tune at that. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 You don't say! What of it.'* So much the worse. 
 It shows to what depths a man will descend. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Don't assume a melancholy air, father. You 're 
 quite a jovial fellow by nature, and the assumption 
 of grief does n't go well with your face, I assure you. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 True, Savva Yegorovich, I was a jolly fellow; but 
 that was before I entered the monastery. As soon 
 as I came here I took a tumble, so to speak; I lost 
 my joviality and serenity and learned to know what 
 real sorrow is. 
 
 l^Tony enters and remains standing in the doorway 
 gazing ecstatically at the monk. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Why so.f* 
 KONDRATY {stepping nearer and speaking in a lowered 
 vdice) There is no God here — there 's only the 
 devil. This is a terrible place to live in, on my word 
 it is, Mr. Savva. I am a man with a large experience.
 
 36 SAVVA [act i 
 
 It 's no easy thing to frighten me. But I am afraid 
 to walk in the hall at night. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What devil? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 The ordinary one. To you, educated people, he 
 appears in a nobler aspect of course; but to us 
 plain, simple people, he reveals himself as he really is. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 With horns? 
 
 RONDKATY 
 
 How can I tell? I never saw the horns; but that '(, 
 not the point, although I may say that his shadow 
 clearly shows the horns. The thing is that we have 
 no peace in our monastery; there is always such a 
 noise and clatter there. Everything is quiet out- 
 side; but inside there are groans and gnashing of 
 teeth. Some groan, some whine, and some complain 
 about something, you can't tell what. When you 
 pass the doors, you feel as if your soul were taking 
 leave of the world behind every door. Suddenly 
 something glides from around the comer — and 
 there 's a shadow on the wall. Nothing at all — 
 and yet there 's a shadow on the wall. In other 
 places it makes no difference. You pay no attention 
 to such a trifle as a shadow ; but here, Sawa Yegoro- 
 vich, they are alive, and you can almost hear them 
 speak. On my word of honor ! Our hall, you know, 
 is so long that it seems never to end. You enter — 
 nothing! You see a sort of black object moving in 
 front of you, something like the figure of a man. 
 Then it stretches out, grows larger and larger and
 
 ACT i] SAVVA 37 
 
 wider and wider until it reaches across the ceiling, 
 and then it 's behind you ! You keep on walking. 
 Your senses become paralyzed. You lose all con- 
 sciousness. 
 SAVVA (to Tony) 
 
 What are you staring aX? 
 
 TONY 
 
 What a face! 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 And God too is impotent here. Of course we have 
 sacred relics and a wonder-working ikon; but, if 
 you '11 excuse me for saying so, they have no efficacy. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 What are you saying.'' 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 None whatever. If you don't believe me, ask the 
 other monks. They '11 bear me out. We pray and 
 pray, and beat our foreheads, and the result is 
 nothing, absolutely nothing. If the image did 
 nothing else than drive away the impure power! 
 But it can't do even that. It hangs there as if it 
 were none of its business, and as soon as night comes, 
 the stir and the gliding and the flitting around the 
 corners begin again. The abbot says we are cowards, 
 poor in spirit, and that we ought to be ashamed. 
 But why are the images ineffective.'' The monks in 
 the monastery say — 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Well.? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 But it 's hard to believe it. It 's impossible. They 
 say that the devil stole the real image long ago —
 
 38 SAVVA [act i 
 
 the one that could perform miracles — and hung up 
 his own picture instead. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Oh, God, what blasphemy ! Why are n't you ashamed 
 to believe such vile, horrid stuff? You who are 
 wearing a monk's robe at that ! You really ought 
 to be lying in a puddle — it 's the proper place for 
 you. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Now, now, don't get mad. Don't mind her. Father 
 Kondraty, she does n't mean it. She is a good girl. 
 But really, why don't you leave the monastery? 
 Why do you want to be fooling about here with 
 shadows and devils? 
 KONDRATY {shruggiTig his shoulders) 
 
 I would like to leave; but where am I to go? E 
 dropped work long ago. I am not used to it any 
 more. Here at least I don't have to worry about 
 how to get a piece of bread. And as for the devil 
 (^cautiously minking to Savva as he turns to the 
 window and fillips his neck with his fingers) I have 
 a means against him. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Well, let 's go out and have a talk. You, face, will 
 you send us some whiskey? 
 TONY (gloomily) 
 
 He is n't telling the truth. There are no devils either. 
 The devil could n't have hung up his picture if 
 there 's no devil. It 's impossible. He had better 
 ask me. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 All right, we '11 speak about that later. Send us 
 whiskey.
 
 ACT i] SAVVA 39 
 
 TONY (goes) 
 
 I won't send you any whiskey either. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What a stupid fellow! I tell you what, father. 
 You go out into the garden through that door. I '11 
 be with you in a moment. Don't lose yourself. 
 (He goes out after Tony) 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Good-bye, Miss Olympiada. 
 
 [Lipa does n't answer. When Kondraty has left, 
 
 she walks around the room a few times, agitated, 
 
 waiting for Savva. 
 SAVVA (entering) 
 
 Well, what a fool ! 
 LIPA (barring his way) 
 
 I know why you came here. I know! Don't you 
 
 dare! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What's that.? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 When I heard you talk, I thought it was just words, 
 but now — Come to your senses ! Think ! You 've 
 gone crazy. What do you mean to do? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Let me go. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I listened to you and laughed! Good Lord! I feel 
 
 as if I had awakened from a terrible dream. Or is 
 
 it all a dream ? What was the monk here for ? What 
 for? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Now that will do. ' You have had your say ; that 's 
 enough. Let me go.
 
 40 SAVVA [act I " 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Don't you see you have gone crazy? Do you under- 
 stand? You are out of your mind. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I 'm sick of hearing you repeat that. Let go. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Savva; dear, darling Savva — No? Very well, you 
 won't listen to me? Very well. You'll see, Savva, 
 you '11 see. You ought to have your hands and 
 feet tied. And you mill be bound, too. There are 
 people who will do it. Oh, God! What does this 
 mean? Stay! Stay! Savva! 
 
 SAVVA (going) 
 
 All right, all right. 
 
 LIPA (shouting) 
 
 I '11 denounce you. Murderer ! Ruffian ! I '11 de- 
 nounce you. 
 
 SAVVA (turning round) 
 
 Oho! You had better be more careful. (Puts his 
 hand on her shoulder and looks into her eyes) You 
 had better be more careful, I say. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You — (For about three seconds there is a struggle 
 between the two pairs of eyes, after which Lipa turns 
 aside, biting her lips) I am not afraid of you. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 That 's better. But don't shout. One should never 
 
 shout. (Exit) 
 LIPA (alone) 
 
 What does this mean? What am I to do? (The 
 
 hens cluck) 
 YEGOR TROPiNiN (in the door) 
 
 What 's the matter ? What 's the row here — hey ?
 
 I 
 
 ACT i] SAVVA 41 
 
 I was gone just half an hour, and everything has 
 gone topsy-turvy. Lipa, why did you let the chick- 
 ens get into the raspberry bushes? Go and drive 
 'em away, damn you ! I am talking to you — yes, to 
 you ! Go, or I '11 go you, I '11 go you, I '11 — 
 
 CUETAIN
 
 THE SECOND ACT 
 
 Within the enclosure of the monastery. In the rear, 
 at the left, appear the monastery buildings, the re- 
 fectory, monks^ cells, parts of the church and the 
 steeple, all connected by passageways tmth arched 
 gates. Board-walks run in different directions in the 
 court. At the right the corner of the steeple wall is 
 seen slightly jutting out. Nestling against it is a small 
 monastic cemetery surrounded by a light, grilled iron 
 fence. Marble inonuments and slabs of stone and iron 
 are sunk deep into the earth. All are old and tzmsted. 
 It is a long time since anyone was buried there. The 
 cemetery contains also some wild rose-bushes and two 
 or three rather small trees. 
 
 It is evening, after vespers. Long shadows are fall- 
 ing from the tower and the walls. The monastery and 
 the steeple are bathed in the reddish light of the setting 
 sun. Monks, novices and pilgrim's pass along the 
 board-walks. In the beginnmg of the act may be heard 
 behind the scenes the driving of a village herd, the crack- 
 ing of a herdsman's whip, the bleating of sheep, the 
 lowing of cattle, and dull cries. Toward the end of 
 the act it grows much darker, and the movement im, the 
 yard ceases almost entirely. 
 
 Savva, Speransky, and the Young Friar are seated 
 on a bench by the iron fence. Speransky is holding his 
 hat on his knees, and now and then he strokes his long, 
 straight hair, which is hanging in two mournful strands
 
 ACT ii] SAVVA 43 
 
 over his long, pale face. He holds his legs together, 
 speaks in a low, sad tone, and gesticulates with ex- 
 tended forefinger. The Friar, young, round-faced, and 
 vigorous, pays no attention to the conversation, hut is 
 smiling continually, as if at his own thoughts. 
 
 SAVVA (preoccupied, looking aside) 
 
 Yes. What kind of work do you do here? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 None at all, Mr. Savva. How can a man in my con- 
 dition do any work.'' Once a man begins to doubt 
 his own existence, the obligation to work naturally 
 ceases to exist for him. But the deacon's wife does 
 not understand it. She is a very stupid woman, ut- 
 terly lacking in education, and, moreover, of an 
 unlovely, cruel disposition. She insists on making 
 me work. But you can imagine the sort of work I 
 do under the circumstances. You see, the situation 
 is this. I have a splendid appetite. That appetite 
 began to develop while I was yet a student in the 
 seminary. . Now this deaconess, if you please, makes 
 a fuss about every piece of bread I eat. She does n't 
 understand, the ignorant woman, the possibility of 
 the non-existence of this piece of bread. If I had 
 a real existence like the rest of you, I should feel 
 very bad, but in my present condition her attacks 
 don't affect me in the least. Nothing affects me, 
 Mr. Savva, nothing in the wide world. 
 SAVVA (smiling at the Friar's unconscious joy, but still 
 preoccupied) How long have you been in this 
 condition.'' 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 It began in the seminary while I was studying philos-
 
 44 SAVVA [act ii 
 
 ophy. It is a dreadful condition, Mr. Sawa. I 
 have grown somewhat accustomed to it now, but at 
 first it was unendurable. I tried to hang m3'^self 
 once, and they cut me down. Then I tried a second 
 time, and they cut me down again. Then they 
 turned me out of the seminary. " Go hang yourself 
 in some other place, you madman," they said. As 
 if there were any other place ! As if all places were 
 not the same! 
 
 THE FRIAR 
 
 Mr. Sawa, let 's go fishing to-morrow at the mill. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I don't like fishing. It bores me. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 I 'm sorry. Well then, let 's go into the woods and 
 knock down the dry branches of trees. It 's fine 
 sport to walk about in the forest and knock off 
 the branches with a stick. And when you shout 
 " Ho-ho-ho ! " the echo from the ravine answers back 
 " Ho-ho-ho ! " Do you like swimming.'' 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, I like it. I am a good swimmer. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 I like it too. 
 SPERANSKY (with tt deep sigh) 
 
 Yes, it 's a strange condition. 
 SAVVA (smiling at the Friar) 
 
 Eh? Well, how are you now.? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 When my uncle took me to his house, he made me 
 promise I would never attempt suicide again. That 
 was the only condition on which he would consent to 
 let me live with him. " All right," I said ; " if we
 
 ACT n] SAVVA 45 
 
 really exist, then I won't make any further attempt 
 to hang myself." 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Why do you want to know whether you exist or not? 
 There is the sky. Look, how beautiful it is. There 
 are the swallows and the sweet-scented grass. It 's 
 fine! (To the Friar) Fine, isn't it, Vassya? 
 raiAR 
 
 Mr. Sawa, do you like to tear up ant-hills? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I don't know. I never tried. 
 
 FEIAR 
 
 I like it. Do you like to fly kites ? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 It 's a long time since I tried to. I used to like it 
 very much. 
 SPERANSKY {patiently auditing the end of their conver- 
 sation) Swallows ! What good is their flying to 
 me? Anyhow, maybe swallows don't exist either, 
 and it 's all a dream. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Suppose it is a dream. Dreams are very beautiful 
 sometimes, you know. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 I should like to wake up, but I can't. I wander 
 around and wander around until I am weary and 
 feeble, and when I rouse myself I find I am here, in 
 the very same place. There is the monastery and the 
 belfry, and the clock strikes the hour. And it 's all 
 like a dream, a fantasy. You close your eyes, and it 
 does n't exist. You open them, and it 's there again. 
 Sometimes I go out into the fields at night and close 
 my eyes, and then it seems to me there is nothing
 
 46 SAVVA [act ii 
 
 at all existing. Suddenly the quail begin to call, 
 and a wagon rolls down the road. Again a dream. 
 For if you stopped up your ears, you would n't hear 
 those sounds. When I die, everything will grow 
 silent, and then it will be true. Only the dead know 
 the truth, Mr. Savva. 
 
 FRIAR {smiling, cMitiously waving his hands at a bird; 
 in a whisper) It 's time to go to bed, time to go to 
 bed. 
 
 SAVVA (impatientli/) 
 
 What dead.'' Listen, my dear sir. I have a plain, 
 simple, peasant mind, and I don't understand those 
 subtleties. What dead are you talking about.? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 About all the dead, every one without exception. 
 That 's why the faces of the dead are so serene. 
 Whatever agonies a man may have suffered before 
 his death, the moment he dies his face becomes serene. 
 That 's because he has learned the truth. I always 
 come here to attend the funerals. It 's astonishing. 
 There was a woman buried here. She had died of 
 grief because her husband was crushed under a loco- 
 motive. You can imagine what must have been going 
 on in her mind before her death. It 's too horrible 
 to think of. Yet she lay there, in the coffin, absolutely 
 serene and calm. That 's because she had come to 
 know that her grief was nothing but a dream, a 
 mere phantom. I like the dead, Mr. Savva. I think 
 the dead really exist. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I don't like the dead. (Impatiently) You are a 
 very disagreeable fellow. Has anybody ever told 
 you that?
 
 ACT ii] SAVVA 47 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Yes, I have heard it before. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I would never have taken you out of the noose. 
 What damn fool did it anyway? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 The first time it was the Father Steward, the next 
 time my classmates. I am very sorry you disap- 
 prove of me, Mr. Tropinin. As you are an edu- 
 cated man, I should have liked to show you a bit of 
 writing I did while I was in the seminary. It 's 
 called "The Tramp of Death." It's a sort of 
 story. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No, spare me, please. Altogether I wish you 'd — 
 FRIAR (rising) 
 
 There comes Father Kirill. I had better beat it. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Why.? 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 He came across me in the forest the other day when 
 I was shouting " Ho ! Ho ! " " Ah," said he, " you 
 forest sprite with goat's feet ! " To-morrow after 
 dinner, all right? (Walks away, sedately at first, 
 but then with a sort of dancing step) 
 FAT MONK (approaches) 
 
 Well, young men, having a pleasant chat? Are you 
 Mr. Tropinin's son? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I am the man. 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 I have heard about you. A decent, respectable 
 gentleman your father is. May I sit down? (He
 
 48 SAVVA [act ii 
 
 sits down) The sun has set, yet it 's still hot. I 
 wonder if we '11 have a storm to-night. Well, young 
 man, how do you like it here.'' How does this place 
 compare with the metropolis.'' 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 It 's a rich monastery. 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 Yes, thank the Lord. It 's celebrated all over 
 Russia. There are many who come here even from 
 Siberia. Its fame reaches far. There '11 soon be a 
 feast-day, and — 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 You '11 work yourself sick, father. Services day and 
 night. 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 Yes, we must do our best for the monastery. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Not for the people.'' 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 Yes, for the people too. For whom else.'' Last year 
 a large number of epileptics were cured; quite a lot 
 of them. One blind man had his eyesight restored, 
 and two paralytics were made to walk. You '11 see 
 for yourself, young man, and then you won't smile. 
 I have heard that you are an unbeliever. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 You have heard correctly. I am an unbeliever. 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 It 's a shame, a shame. Of course, there are many 
 unbelievers nowadays among the educated classes. 
 But are they any happier on that account.'' I 
 doubt it.
 
 ACT ii] SAVVA 49 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No, there are not so many. They think they are 
 unbelievers because they don't go to church. As a 
 matter of fact, they have greater faith than you. 
 It 's more deep-seated. 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 Is that so.? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, yes. The form of their faith is, of course, 
 more refined. They are cultured, you see. 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 Of course, of course. People feel better, feel more 
 confident and secure, if they believe. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 They say the devil is choking the monks here every 
 night. 
 FAT MONK (laughing) 
 
 Nonsense. (To the Gray Monk passing hy) 
 Father Vissarion, come here a moment. Sit down. 
 Mr. Tropinin's son here says the devil chokes us 
 every night. Have you heard about it? (The tzao 
 monies laugh good-naturedly as they look at each 
 other) 
 
 GRAY MONK 
 
 Some of the monks can't sleep well because they have 
 overeaten, so they think they are being choked. 
 Why, young man, the devil can't enter within our 
 sacred precincts. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 But suppose he does suddenly put in an appearance? 
 What will you do then? 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 We '11 get after him with the holy- water sprinkler,
 
 50 SAVVA [act II 
 
 that's what we'll do. "Don't butt in where you 
 have no business to, you black-faced booby ! " {The 
 monk latughs) 
 
 GRAY MONK 
 
 Here comes King Herod. 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 Wait a while, Father Vissarion. {To Sawa) You 
 talk about faith and such things. There's a man 
 for you — look at him — see how he walks. And 
 yet he has chains on him weighing four hundred 
 pounds. He doesn't walk, he dances. He visits 
 us every summer, and I must say he is a very valu- 
 able guest. His example strengthens others in their 
 faith. Herod! Ho, Herod! 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 What do you want.? 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 Come here a minute. This gentleman doubts the 
 existence of God. Talk to him. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 What 's the matter with yourself.? Are you so full 
 of booze that you can't wag your own tongue.? 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 You heretic! What a heretic! {Both monks 
 laugh) 
 KING HEROD {approaching) 
 What gentleman.? 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 This one. 
 KING HEROD {scrutinizing him) 
 
 He doubts? Let him doubt. It's none of my 
 business.
 
 ACT ii] SAVVA 61 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Oh! 
 
 KING HEKOD 
 
 Why, what did you think? 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 Sit down, please. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Never mind. I 'd rather stand. 
 FAT MONK {to Sttvva, in a loud whisper) 
 
 He is doing that to wear himself out. Until he has 
 reduced himself to absolute faintness he '11 neither 
 sleep nor eat. {Aloud) This gentleman is wonder- 
 ing at the kind of chains you have on your body. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Chains.? Just baby rattles. Put them on a horse 
 and he too would carry them if he had the strength. 
 I have a sad heart. {Looks at Sawa) You know, I 
 killed my own son. Yes, I did. Have they been 
 telling you about me, these chatterboxes.'' 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 They have. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Can you understand it? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Why not? Yes, I can. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 You lie — you can't. No one can understand it. 
 Go through the whole world, search round the whole 
 globe, ask everybody — no one will be able to tell 
 you, no one will understand. And if anyone says 
 he does, take it from me that he lies, lies just as you 
 do. Why, you can't even see your own nose prop- 
 erly, yet you have the brazenness to say you under-
 
 52 SAVVA [act ii 
 
 stand. Go. You are a foolish boy, that 's what 
 you are. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 And you are wise.? 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 I am wise. My sorrow has made me so. It is a great 
 sorrow. There is none greater on earth. I killed 
 my son with my own hand. Not the hand you are 
 looking at, but the one which is n't here. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Where is it.'' 
 
 KING HEEOD 
 
 I burnt it. I held it in the stove and let it burn up 
 to my elbow. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Did that relieve you.** 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 No. Fire cannot destroy my grief. It burns with 
 a heat that is greater than fire. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Fire, brother, destroys everything. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 No, young man, fire is weak. Spit on it and it is 
 quenched. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What fire.? It is possible to kindle such a conflagra- 
 tion that an ocean of water will not quench it. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 No, boy. Every fire goes out when its time comes. 
 My grief is great, so great that when I look around 
 me I say to myself: Good heavens, what has become 
 of everything else that 's large and great? Where 
 has it all gone to.? The forest is small, the house is
 
 ACT n] SAVVA 53 
 
 small, the mountain is small, the whole earth is small, 
 a mere poppy seed. You have to walk cautiously and 
 look out, lest you reach the end and drop off. 
 FAT MONK {pleased) 
 
 Fine, King Herod, you are going it strong. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Even the sun does not rise for me. For others it 
 rises, but for me it does n't. Others don't see the 
 darkness by day, but I see it. It penetrates the light 
 like dust. At first I seem to see a sort of light, but 
 then — good heavens, the sky is dark, the earth is 
 dark, all is like soot. Yonder is something vague 
 and misty. I can't even make out what it is. Is it 
 a human being, is it a bush? My grief is great, 
 immense! {Grows pensive) If I cried, who would 
 hear me.f* If I shouted, who would respond.'^ 
 FAT MONK {to the Gray Monk) 
 The dogs in the village might. 
 
 KING HEROD {shaking his head) 
 
 O you people ! You are looking at me as at a mon- 
 strosity — at my hair, my chains — because I killed 
 my son and because I am like King Herod; but 
 my soul you see not, and my grief you know not. 
 You are as blind as earthworms. You would n't 
 know if you were struck with a beam on the head. 
 Say, you pot-belly, what are you shaking your 
 paunch for.^* 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Why — the way he talks to you ! 
 
 FAT MONK {reassuringly) 
 
 It 's nothing. He treats us all like that. He up- 
 braids us all.
 
 54 SAVVA [act n 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Yes, and I will continue to upbraid. Fellows like 
 you are not fit to serve God. What you ought to do 
 is to sit in a drinkshop amusing Satan. The devils 
 use your belly to go sleigh-riding on at night. 
 FAT MONK {good-Tiaturedly) 
 
 Well, well, God be with you. You had better speak 
 about yourself; stick to that. 
 
 KING HEROD {tO SaWo) 
 
 You see? He wants to feast on my agony. Go 
 ahead, feast all you want. 
 
 GRAY MONK 
 
 My, what a scold you are. Where do you get your 
 vocabulary? He once told the Father Superior that 
 if God were not immortal he, the Father Superior, 
 would long ago have sold him piece by piece. But 
 we tolerate him. He can do no harm in a monastery. 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 He attracts people. Many come here for his sake. 
 And what difference does it make to us? God sees 
 our purity. Is n't that so, King Herod? 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Oh, shut up, you old dotard. Look at him; he 
 can scarcely move his legs, old Harry with the evil 
 eye. Keeps three women in the village; one is not 
 enough for him. {The monks laugh good-naturedly) 
 You see, you see? Whew! Look at their brazen, 
 shameless eyes ! Might as well spit on them ! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Why do you come here? 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Not for them. Listen, young man. Have you a 
 grief ?
 
 ACT ii] SAVVA 55 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Perhaps I have. Why? 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Then listen to me. When you are in sorrow, when 
 you are suffering, don't go to people. If you have 
 a friend, don't go to him. It 's more than you '11 
 be able to stand. Better go to the wolves in the 
 forest. They '11 make short work of it, devour you 
 at once, and there will be the end of it. I have seen 
 many evil things, but I have never seen anything 
 worse than man. No, never! They say men are 
 created in His image, in His likeness. Why, you 
 skunks, you have no image. If you had one, the 
 tiniest excuse for one, you would crawl away on all 
 fours and hide somewhere from sheer shame. You 
 damned skunks ! Laugh at them, cry before them, 
 shout at them. It does n't make any difference. 
 They go on licking their chops. King Herod — 
 Damned skunks ! And when King Herod — not I, 
 but the real one with a golden crown — killed your 
 children, where were you — hey.'* 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 We were n't even in the world then, man. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Then there were others like you. He killed. You 
 accepted it. That 's all. I have asked many the 
 question: "What would you have done?" "Noth- 
 ing," they always reply. " If he killed, what could 
 be done about it ? " Fine creatures ! Have n't the 
 manliness to stand up even for their children. They 
 are worse than dogs, damn them ! 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 And what would you have done?
 
 66 SAVVA [act n 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 I? I should have wrung his neck from off his royal 
 gold crown — the confounded brute ! 
 
 GRAY MONK 
 
 It says in the scripture : " Render unto Caesar the 
 things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that 
 are God's." 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 That is to say, don't interfere with other people's 
 business. Do you understand.? 
 KING HEROD (to Sawtt, ill despair) 
 
 Just listen, listen to what they are saying. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I hear what they are saying. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Just you wait, my precious ! You '11 get what 's com- 
 ing to you, and mighty quick. The devil will come 
 and hurl you into the fiery pit. To hell, to gehenna, 
 with you ! How your fat will melt and run ! Do 
 you get the smell, monk.'' 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 That 's from the refectory. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 You are on the run, fast as your feet can carry you ! 
 Ah! but where to? Everywhere is hell, everywhere 
 is fire. You refused to hearken unto me, my pet; 
 now you shall hearken unto the fire. Won't I be 
 glad, won't I rejoice ! I '11 take off my chains so that 
 I can catch them and present them to the devil — 
 first one, then the other. Here, take him. And the 
 howl they '11 set up, and the weeping and lamentation. 
 "I am not guilty." Not guilty? Who, then, is — 
 who? To gehenna with you! Burn, you damned
 
 ACT ii] SAVVA 57 
 
 hypocrites, until the second Advent, And then we '11 
 build a new fire, then we '11 build a new fire. 
 
 GRAY MONK 
 
 Is n't it time for us to go, Father Kirill? 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 Yes, we had better be moving along. It 's getting 
 dark, and it 's time to retire. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Aha ! You don't like to hear the truth. It is n't 
 pleasant, is it.f* 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 Hee-hee, brother, talk is cheap. A barking dog 
 does n't bite. Scold away, scold away. We are 
 listening. God in heaven will decide who is to go to 
 hell and who elsewhere. " The meek shall inherit the 
 earth," says the Gospel. Good-bye, young gentlemen. 
 GRAY MONK {to King Herod) 
 
 Let me give you a piece of advice, however. Talk, 
 but don't talk too much. Don't go too far. We 
 are only tolerating you because you are a pitiful 
 creature and because you are foolish. But if you 
 give your tongue too free a rein, we can stop it, you 
 know. Yes, indeed. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 AH right, try — try to stop me. 
 
 FAT MONK 
 
 What 's the use. Father Vissarion? Let him talk. 
 It does n't do any harm. Listen, listen, young gentle- 
 men. He is an interesting fellow. Good night. 
 [They go. The Fat Monk is heard laughing heartily. 
 
 KING HEROD {tO SttWa) 
 
 Fine specimens. I can't stand them.
 
 58 SAVVA [ 
 
 ACT 11 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I like you, uncle. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Do you? So you don't like their kind either? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No, I don't. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Well, I '11 sit down for a while. My legs are swollen. 
 Have you got a cigarette? 
 SAVVA (handing him a cigarette) 
 Do you smoke? 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Sometimes. Excuse me for having talked to you 
 the way I did before. You are a good fellow. But 
 why did you lie and say you understood? No one 
 can understand it. Who is this with you? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Oh, he just happened along. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Well, brother, feeling bad, down in the mouth? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Yes, I feel blue. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Keep still, keep still, I don't want to listen. You 
 are suffering? Keep still. I am a man too, brother, 
 so I don't understand. I '11 insult you if you don't 
 look out. (Throws away the cigarette) No, I can't. 
 As long as I keep standing or walking I manage some- 
 how. The moment I sit down, it 's hell. Ow-w-w — 
 (Writhing in agony) I simply can't catch my 
 breath. Oh, God, do you see my torture? Eh? 
 Well, well, it 's nothing. It 's gone. Oh ! Ow-w ! 
 [The sky has become overcast xvith clouds. It turns
 
 ACT ii] SAVVA 59 
 
 dark qmcMy. Now and then there are flashes of 
 lightning. 
 SAVVA (^quietly) 
 
 One must try to stifle one's grief, old man. Fight 
 it. Say to yourself firmly and resolutely : " I don't 
 want it." And it will cease to be. You seem to be 
 a good, strong man. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 No, friend, my grief is such that even death won't 
 remove it. What is death.'' It is little, insignificant, 
 and my grief is great. No, death won't end my 
 grief. There was Cain. Even when he died, his 
 sorrow remained. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 The dead do not grieve. They are serene. They 
 know the truth. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 But they don't tell it to anybody. What 's the good 
 of such truth .f* Here am I alive, and yet I know the 
 truth. Here am I with my sorrow. You see what it 
 is — there is no greater on earth. And yet if God 
 spoke to me and said, " Yeremey, I will give you the 
 whole earth if you give me your grief," I would n't 
 give it away. I will not give it away, friend. It is 
 sweeter to me than honey ; it is stronger than the 
 strongest drink. Through it I have learned the 
 truth. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 God.? 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Christ — that 's the one ! He alone can understand 
 the sorrow that is in me. He sees and understands. 
 -" Yes, Yeremey, I see how you suffer." That 's all.
 
 60 SAVVA [act II 
 
 " I see." And I answer Him : " Yes, O Lord, behold 
 my sorrow ! " That 's all. No more is necessary. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What you value in Christ is His suffering for the 
 people, is that it.? 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 You mean his crucifixion.'' No, brother, that suffer- 
 ing was a trifle. They crucified Him — what did 
 that matter.'' The important point was that thereby 
 He came to know the truth. As long as He walked 
 the earth, He was — well — a man, rather a good 
 man — talking here and there about this and that. 
 When He met someone, He would talk to him about 
 this and that, teach him, and tell him a few good 
 things to put him on the right track. But when 
 these same fellows carried Him off to the cross and 
 went at Him with knouts, whips, and lashes, then 
 His eyes were opened. " Aha ! " He said, " so that 's 
 what it is ! " And He prayed : " I cannot endure 
 such suffering. I thought it would be a simple 
 crucifixion; but, O Father in Heaven, what is this.'* " 
 And the Father said to Him : " Never mind, never 
 mind, Son ! Know the truth, know what it is." And 
 from then on. He fell to sorrowing, and has been 
 sorrowing to this day. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Sorrowing.'' 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Yes, friend, he is sorrowing. (Pause. Lightning) 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 It looks like rain, and I am without rubbers and 
 umbrella.
 
 ACT n] SAVVA 61 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 And everywhere, wheresoever I go, wheresoever I 
 turn, I see before me His pure visage. " Do you 
 understand my suffering, O Lord? " " I understand, 
 Yeremey, I understand everything. Go your way in 
 peace." I am to Him like a transparent crystal with 
 a tear inside. " You understand, Lord? " " I 
 understand, Yeremey." " Well, and I understand 
 you too." So we live together. He with me, I with 
 Him. I am sorry for Him also. When I die, I 
 will transmit my sorrow to Him. " Take it, Lord." 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 But after all, you are not quite right in running down 
 the people the way you do. There are some good 
 men also — very few — but there are some. Other- 
 wise it would n't be of any use to live. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 No, friend, there are none. I don't want to fool 
 you — there are none. You know, it was they who 
 christened me with the name of King Herod. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Who? 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Why, your people. There is no beast more cruel 
 than man. I killed my boy, so I am King Herod to 
 them. Damn them, it never enters their minds how 
 terrible it is for me to be burdened with such a nick- 
 name. Herod! If they only called me so out of 
 spite ! But not at all. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What is your real name? 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Yeremey. That 's my name — Yeremey. But they
 
 62 SAVVA [act II 
 
 call me Herod, carefully adding King, so that there 
 may be no mistake. Look, there comes another 
 monk, a plague on him. Say, did you ever see His 
 countenance? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I did. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 And did you see His eyes? No? Then look, try to 
 see them — Where is he off to, the bat? To the 
 village to his women. 
 KONDRATY {enters) 
 
 Peace be with you, honest folks. Good evening, 
 Savva. To what lucky chance do I owe this meeting? 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Look, monk, the devil's tail is sticking out of your 
 pocket. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 It is n't the devil's tail, it 's a radish. You 're 
 very clever, but you did n't hit it right that time. 
 
 KING HEROD {spittmg in disgust) ' 
 
 I can't bear to look at them. They turn my stomach. 
 Good-bye, friend. Remember what I told you. 
 WTien you are in sorrow, don't go to people. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 All right, uncle, I understand. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Rather go to the forest to the wolves. (Goes out; 
 his voice is heard out of the darkness) Oh, Lord, 
 do you see? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 A narrow-minded fool. Killed his son and puts on 
 airs. You can't get by him. He won't let you alone.
 
 ACT ii] SAVVA 63 
 
 It 's something to be proud of, is n't it, to have killed 
 one's own son? A great thing. 
 SPERANSKY (witJi a s'lgh) 
 
 No, Father Kondraty, you are mistaken. He is a 
 happy man. If his son were brought to life this 
 moment, he would instantly kill him. He would n't 
 give him five minutes to live. But of course when he 
 dies, he '11 know the truth, 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 That 's what I said, you fool. If it were a cat he 
 killed, he might have some reason to be proud — but 
 his own son ! What are you thinking about, Sawa 
 Y'egorovich.'* 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I am waiting. I should like to know how soon this 
 gentleman will go. The devil brought him, I think. 
 Now, here comes someone else. {Peers into the 
 darkness) 
 LiPA {approaching. She stops and hesitates) 
 Is that you, Sawa.? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, and is that you? What do you want? I don't 
 like people to follow me everywhere I go, sister. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 The gate to this place is open. Everybody has a 
 right to come in. Mr. Speransky, Tony has been 
 asking for you. He wants the seminarist, he says. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 There, go together — a jolly pair. Good-bye, sir, 
 good-bye. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Good-bye. I hope I '11 see you soon again, Mr. 
 Sawa, and have another talk.
 
 64 SAVVA [act ii 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No, don't try, please. Abandon the hope. Good- 
 bye. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 How rude you are, Sawa. Come, Mr. Speransky. 
 They have business of their own to attend to. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Still I haven't given up hope. Good-bye. (Goes 
 out) 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Just grabbed me and stuck — the devil take him ! 
 KONDftATY (laughing) 
 
 Yes, he is a sticker from the word go. If he likes 
 you, you can't shake him off. He '11 follow you 
 everywhere. We call him the " shadow " — partly, 
 I suppose, because he is so thin. He has taken a 
 fancy to you, so you '11 have a time of it. He '11 
 stick to you like a leech. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I am not in the habit of wasting a lot of words. I '11 
 give him the slip without much ceremony. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 They have even tried beating him, but it does n't do 
 any good. He is known here for miles around. He 
 is a character. 
 
 [A pause. Lightning. Every now and then is heard 
 the roll of distant thunder. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Why did you tell me to meet you here in this public 
 place where everyone may come? They fell on me 
 like a swarm of fleas — monks and all sorts of im- 
 beciles. I 'd rather have spoken to you in the woods, 
 where we could be let alone.
 
 ACT ii] SAVVA 65 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 I did it to escape suspicion. If I went with you to 
 the woods they 'd say : " What has a God-fearing 
 man like Kondraty got to do with such a fellow? '* 
 I hope you pardon ! " Why is he so thick with 
 him? " I purposely timed my coming so that they 'd 
 see us together Avith others. 
 
 SAVVA (looking pxedly at him) 
 Well? 
 
 KONDRATY (tummg away his eyes and shrugging his 
 shoulders) I can't. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 You are afraid? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 To tell the truth, I am. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 You 're no good, old chap. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Perhaps not. You have a right to draw your own 
 conclusions. (Pause) 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 But what are you afraid of, you booby? The ma- 
 chine is not dangerous. It won't hurt you. All you 
 have to do is to put it in the right place, set it off, 
 and then you can go to the village to your mistresses. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 That 's not the point. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 W^hat then? Are you afraid of being caught? But 
 I told you, if anything should happen, I '11 take the 
 guilt on myself. Don't you believe me? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Why, of course I believe you.
 
 6G SAVVA [act ii 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What then? Do you fear God? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Yes, I do. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 But you don't believe in God — you believe in the 
 devil. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Who knows? Maybe some day I'll suddenly dis- 
 cover that He does exist. In that case, Mr. Savva, 
 I thank you, but I'd rather not. Why should I? 
 I live a nice, quiet existence. Of course, it 's all a 
 humbug, an imposition. But what business is it of 
 mine? The people want to believe — let them. It 
 was n't I who invented God. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Look here. You know I could have done it myself. 
 All I need have done was to take a bomb and throw 
 it into the procession. That 's all. But that would 
 mean the killing of many people, which at the pres- 
 ent juncture would serve no useful purpose. I 
 therefore ask you to do it. If you refuse, then the 
 blood will rest on you. You understand? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Why on me? I am not going to throw the bomb. 
 And then, what have I got to do with them — I mean 
 the people that get killed? What concern are they 
 of mine? There are plenty of people in the world. 
 You can't kill them all, no matter how many bombs 
 you throw. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Aren't you sorry for them?
 
 ACT ii] SAVVA 67 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 If I were to be sorry for everybody, I should have 
 no sympathy left for myself. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 That 's right. You are a bright man. You have a 
 good mind. I have already told you so. And 3'et 
 you hesitate. You are clever, and yet you are afraid 
 to smash a piece of wood. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 If it is nothing but a piece of wood, then why go to 
 so much trouble about it? The point is, it is not a 
 piece of wood, it is an image. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 For me it is a piece of wood. For the people it is a 
 sacred object. That is why I want to destroy it. 
 Imagine how they '11 open their mouths and stare. 
 Ah, brother, if you were not a coward, I would tell 
 you some things. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Go ahead and talk. It 's no sin to listen. I am not 
 a coward either. I am simply careful. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 This would only be the beginning, brother. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 A good beginning, I won't deny it. And what will 
 be the end.f^ 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 The earth stripped naked, a tabula rasa, do you 
 understand? And on this naked earth, naked man, 
 naked as his mother bore him. No breeches on him, 
 no orders, no pockets, nothing. Imagine men with- 
 out pockets. Queer, isn't it? Yes indeed, brother, 
 the ikon is only the beginning.
 
 68 SAVVA [act ii 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Oh, they '11 make new ones. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 But they won't be the same as before. And they '11 
 never forget this much — that dynamite is mightier 
 than their God, and that man is mightier than dyna- 
 mite. liOok at them; see them yonder praying and 
 kneeling, not daring to raise their heads and look 
 you straight in the face, mean slaves that they are ! 
 Then comes a real man, and smash goes the whole 
 humbug. Done for ! 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Really ! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 And when a dozen of their idols have gone the same 
 way, the slaves will begin to understand that the 
 kingdom of their God is at an- end, and that the 
 kingdom of man has come. Lots of them will drop 
 from sheer terror. Some will lose their wits, and 
 others will throw themselves into the fire. They '11 
 say that Antichrist has come. Think of it, Kon- 
 draty ! 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 And aren't you sorry for them.? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Sorry for them.? Why, they built a prison for me, 
 and I am to be sorry for them. They put me in a 
 torture chamber, and I am to be sorry for them. 
 Bah! 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Who are you to be above pity? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I? I am a man who have been bom. And having
 
 ACT II] SAVVA 69 
 
 been born, I began to look about. I saw churches 
 and penitentiaries. I saw universities and houses of 
 prostitution. I saw factories and picture galleries. 
 I saw palaces and filthy dens. I calculated the num- 
 ber of prisons there are to each gallery, and I re- 
 solved that the whole edifice must go, the whole of it 
 must be overturned, annihilated. And we are going 
 to do it. Our day of reckoning has come. It is 
 time. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Who are "we".? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I, you Kondraty, and others. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 The people are stupid. They won't understand. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 When the conflagration rages all around them, they 
 will understand. Fire is a good teacher, old boy. 
 Have you ever heard of Raphael? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 No, I have n't. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Well, when we are through with God, we '11 go for 
 fellows like him. There are lots of them — Titian, 
 Shakespeare, Byron. We '11 make a nice pile of the 
 whole lot and pour oil over it. Then we '11 burn 
 their cities. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Now, now you are joking. How is that possible? 
 How can you bum the cities? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No, why should I be joking? All the cities. Look 
 here, what are their cities? Graves, stone graves.
 
 70 SAVVA [act II 
 
 And if you don't stop those fools, if you let them 
 go on making more, they will cover the whole earth 
 with stone, and then all will suffocate — all. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 The poor people will have a hard time of it. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 All will be poor then. What is it that makes a man 
 rich? His having a house and money, and the fact 
 that he has surrounded himself with a fence. But 
 when there are no houses, no money, and no fences — 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 That 's so. And there won't be any legal papers 
 either, no stocks, no bonds, no title-deeds. They will 
 all have been burnt up. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No, there will be no legal papers. It 's work then — 
 you '11 have to go to work even if you are a nobleman. 
 KONDRATY (loughing) 
 
 It 's funny. All will be nakqd as when coming out 
 of a bath. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Are you a peasant, Kondraty.? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Yes, I am a peasant, sure enough. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I am a peasant also. We have nothing to lose, 
 brother. We can't fare worse than we do now. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 How could it be worse? But a great many people 
 will perish, Mr. Tropinin. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 It makes no difference. There '11 be enough left. It 
 is the good-for-nothings that will perish, the fools
 
 ACT ii] SAVVA 71 
 
 to whom this life is like a shell to a crab. Those 
 who believe will perish, because their faith will be 
 taken away from them. Those who love the old will 
 perish, because everything will be taken away from 
 them. The weak, the sick, those who love quietness. 
 There will be no quietness in the world, brother. 
 There will remain only the free and the brave, those 
 with young and eager souls and clear eyes that can 
 embrace the whole universe. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Like yours.'' I am afraid of your eyes, Savva Yeg- 
 orovich, especially in the dark. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, like mine. And emancipated from everything, 
 naked, armed only with their reason, they will de- 
 liberate, discuss, talk things over, and build up a 
 new life, a good life, Kondraty, where every man 
 may breathe freely. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 It 's interesting. But men are sly creatures. Some- 
 thing of the old will be left over. They '11 hide it, 
 or try some other trick, and then, behold ! back 
 they slide to the old again, everything just as it 
 was, just as of old. What then.'' 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Just as of old.'' (Gloomily) Then they will have to 
 be wiped clean off the face of the earth. Let there 
 be no living human being on earth. Enough of it ! 
 
 KONDRATY (shaking his head) 
 But — 
 
 SAVVA (putting his hand on his shoulder) 
 
 Believe me, monk, I have been in many cities and in 
 many lands. Nowhere did I see a free man. I saw
 
 72 SAVVA [act ii 
 
 only slaves. I saw the cages in which they live, the 
 beds on which they are born and die; I saw their 
 hatreds and their loves, their sins and their good 
 works. And I saw also their amusements, their piti- 
 ful attempts to bring dead joy back to life again. 
 And everything that I saw bore the stamp of 
 stupidity and unreason. He that is born wise turns 
 stupid in their midst ; he that is bom cheerful hangs 
 himself from boredom and sticks out his tongue at 
 them. Amidst the flowers of the beautiful earth — 
 you have no idea how beautiful the earth is, monk 
 — they have erected insane asylums. And what are 
 they doing with their children? I have never yet 
 seen parents that do not deserve capital punishment ; 
 first because they begot children, and secondly be- 
 cause, having begot them, they did not immediately 
 commit suicide. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Good heavens, how you talk ! Hearing you, one 
 hardly knows what to think. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 And how they lie, how they lie, monk! They don't 
 kill the truth — no, they kick her and bruise her 
 daily, and smear her clean face with their dirt and 
 filth so that no one may recognize her, so that the 
 children may not love her, and so that she may have 
 no refuge. In all the world — yes, monk, in all the 
 world — there is no place for truth. {Sinks into 
 meditation. Pause) 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Is there no other way — without fire? It 's terrible, 
 Sa\^a Yegorovich. Consider what it means ! It 's 
 the end of the world,
 
 ACT ii] SAVVA 73 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No, it can't be helped, partner. It must be. The 
 end of the world must come too. They were treated 
 with medicine, and it did no good. They were 
 treated with iron, and it did no good. Now they 
 must be treated with fire — fire ! 
 
 [Pause. Lightnmg flashes. The thunder has ceased. 
 Somewhere outside a watchman can he heard striking 
 his iro7i rod. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 And there '11 be no drinkshops either.'* 
 SAVVA {pensively) 
 No, nothing. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 They '11 start drinkshops again all right. Can't get 
 along without them, you know. {A prolonged 
 pause) Ye-es. What are you thinking about, Savva 
 Yegorovich.'' 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Nothing. {Draws a light breath, cheerfully) Well, 
 Kondraty, shall we begin? 
 KONDRATY {swayiug his head to and fro) 
 
 It 's a mighty hard problem you have put up to me. 
 It 's a poser. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Never mind, don't get shaky now. You are a sensi- 
 ble man ; you know it can't be helped ; there is 
 nothing else to do. Would I be doing it myself, if 
 it were not necessary.'' You can see that, can't you.'* 
 KONDRATY {lieaving a sigh) 
 
 Ye-es, hm ! Why, Mr. Tropinin — why, my dear 
 fellow — don't I know, don't I understand it all ? 
 It 's a rotten, cursed life ! Ah, Mr. Savva, INIr.
 
 74 SAVVA [act ii 
 
 Savva — look here. If I were to tell anyone that 
 I am a good man, they 'd laugh and say : " What 
 are you lying for, you drunkard? " Kondraty a 
 good man! It sounds like a joke even to myself. 
 And yet I swear to you, by God, I am a good man ! 
 I don't know how it happened the way it did, why I 
 am what I am now. I lived and lived, and suddenly ! 
 How it came about, what the reason of it is, I don't 
 know. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 And you are still afraid.? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 What am I now? I am neither a candle for God nor 
 a poker for the devil. Sometimes when I think 
 matters over — ah, Mr. Savva, do you think I have 
 no conscience? Don't I understand? I understand 
 everything but — I am not really afraid of the devil 
 either. I am just playing the fool. The devil — 
 nonsense ! If you were in the place of us in there, 
 you would understand. Not long ago, when I was 
 drunk, I cried : " Get out, devil — out of my way — 
 I am a desperate man ! " I don't care for anything. 
 I don't care if I die. I am ready. You have worked 
 at me, Mr. Savva, until I have grown quite soft. 
 (Wipes his eyes with his sleeves) 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Why should you die? I don't want to die either. 
 We are going to live for some time to come, we are. 
 How old are you? ' 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Forty-two. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Just the right age. 
 
 I
 
 ACT ii] SAVVA 75 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 I am sorry for the ikon. They say it appeared 
 miraculously in the river, and that 's how it came to 
 be here. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Nonsense. Don't waste your feelings. It 's sup- 
 posed to be a wonder-working ikon and has n't one 
 miracle to its credit. Why, it makes one feel like 
 a fool just to say it. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 They say it has been replaced by the devil, so that 
 it is n't the real one. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 So much the better. And yet you crack your heads 
 in front of it and fool the people about it. There is 
 no use wasting words, my friend. It 's agreed 
 then. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 You have to go now. The gate will soon be closed. 
 And all of a sudden — 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What "all of a sudden".? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 And all of a sudden I '11 be going to the ikon, and it 
 will strike me down with lightning and thunder. 
 Won't it? 
 SAVVA (laughing) 
 
 Don't be afraid. It won't strike you. That 's what 
 everybody thinks. They are all afraid they '11 be 
 struck by lightning and thunder. But it won't 
 happen. Believe me, a man may blow up the ikon 
 and no lightning will strike him. Do you need 
 money ?
 
 76 SAVVA [act ii 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Have you got any? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I have. 
 
 KONDRATY (sUSpicioUslit/) 
 
 Where did you get it? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What business is that of yours? Suppose I killed 
 a rich man, or cut somebody's throat — are you go- 
 ing to report me to the police? 
 KONDRATY (reassurcd) 
 
 What are you thinking of, Savva Yegorovich? 
 That 's your concern. As to your offer, of course, 
 money alwa^'^s comes in handy. It will enable me 
 to leave the monastery. I '11 tell you in confidence, 
 I have long been nursing a scheme — it 's my dream 
 — to settle somewhere along the road and start an 
 inn. I like company. I am a talkative chap my- 
 self. I know I '11 succeed. It does n't hurt a host 
 to have a drink now and then. The guests like it. 
 With a jolly host you '11 spend every penny you 
 have, and your pants besides, and you won't notice 
 it. I know by personal experience. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Why not? You can start an inn if you want to. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 And besides, I am still in the full vigor of manhood. 
 Instead of sinning here, I 'd rather get legally 
 married. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Don't forget to invite me to the wedding. I '11 act 
 as your godfather.
 
 ACT ii] SAVVA 77 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 You are too young. As to the money — when sliall 
 it be, before or after? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Judas got his before. 
 KONDRATY (offeuded) 
 
 There now, when you should be doing your best to 
 persuade me, you call me Judas. It is n't pleasant. 
 The idea of calling a living man Judas ! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Judas was a fool. He hanged himself. You are 
 going to start an inn. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Again.? If that 's what you think of me — 
 SAVVA (slapping his shoidders) 
 
 Well, well, uncle, don't you see I 'm joking. f^ Judas 
 betrayed a man, and you are not going to betray 
 anything but lumber. Is that right, old man.'' 
 [Speranshy and Tony appear, the latter walking 
 very unsteadily. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 There — brought by the devil ! With us carrying 
 on this kind of conversation, and they — 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 It 's agreed then? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Oh, you 're too much for me. 
 SPERANSKY (bowing) 
 
 Good evening once more, Mr. Savva Tropinin. Mr. 
 Anthony and myself have just been at the other end, 
 in the cemetery. A woman was buried there to-day, 
 so we wanted to have a look.
 
 78 SAVVA ■ [act ii 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 To see if she hadn't crawled out of her grave? 
 What are you dragging him along with you for? 
 Tony, go to bed, you can't stand on your feet. 
 
 TONY 
 
 I won't go. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Tony is very excited to-day. He sees all kinds of 
 faces. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Funny faces? 
 
 TONY 
 
 Yes, funny. What else can you expect? {Sadlz/) 
 Your face, Savva, is very, very funny. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 All right, go along with you ! Take him home. 
 What are you dragging him about with you for? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Good-bye. Come along, Mi. Anthony. 
 [Speranskiy goes out. Tony follows him, looking 
 back at Savva, and stumbling as he goes along. 
 They disappear in the dark. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 It 's time for us also to be going. Have you got 
 that money at hand? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, I have. Now listen. Sunday is the feast-day. 
 You are to take the machine Saturday morning and 
 plant it at night at half past eleven, four days from 
 now. I '11 show you how to do it and everything else 
 that 's necessary. Four days more. I am sick of 
 staying in this place.
 
 ACT II ] SAW A TO 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 And suppose I betray you? 
 SAVVA {darkly) 
 
 Then I 'd kill you. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Good heavens! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Now I am going to kill you if you merely try to 
 back out. You know too much, brother. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 You are joking. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Maybe I am joking. I am such a jolly fellow. I 
 like to laugh. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 When you first came here, you were gay. Tell me, 
 Mr. Savva (looJdng around cautiously), did you ever 
 kill a man, a real live man? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I did. I cut the throat of that rich business man I 
 told you about. 
 KONDRATY (waving his hand) 
 
 Now I see that you are joking. Well, good-bye, I 
 am going. Don't j^ou hang around here either. The 
 gate will soon be closed. Oh, my — I am never 
 afraid — but just as soon as I begin to think of the 
 hall, it 's awful. There are shadows there now. 
 Good night. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Good night. 
 
 [Kondraty disappears in the dark. Lightning. 
 
 Savva remains leaning on the railing to stare at the
 
 ^0 SaVVA [act II 
 
 white tombstones that are momentarily revealed by 
 the flashes of lightning. 
 SAVVA {to the graves) 
 
 Well, you dead ones, are you going to turn over in 
 your graves or not? For some reason I don't feel 
 very cheerful — oh, ye dead — I don't feel the least 
 bit cheerful. {Lightning) 
 
 CURTAIN
 
 THE THIRD ACT 
 
 A festively decorated room with three windows to the 
 street. One window is open, but the curtain is drawn. 
 An open door, pai/iited dark, leads into the room seen 
 in the first act. 
 
 It is night and dark. Through the windows can he 
 heard the continuous tramp of tJie pilgrims on their 
 way to the monastery for the next day^s celebration. 
 Some are barefoot; some wear boots or bast shoes. 
 Their steps are quick and eager, or slow and weary. 
 They walk singly or in groups of two or three, the 
 majority in silence, though now and then suppressed, 
 indistinct talking may be heard. Starting from some- 
 where far off to the left, the sound of the footsteps and 
 the talking, muffled at first, approaches and grows 
 louder, until at times it seems to fill the whole room. 
 Then it dies away in the distance again. The im- 
 pression is that of some tremendous movement, elemen- 
 tal and irrepressible. 
 
 At the table, lighted only by a flickering stump of 
 a tallow candle, sit Speransky and Tony. The latter 
 is very drunk. Cucumbers, herring, and bottles of 
 whiskey are on the table. The rest of the room is en- 
 tirely dark. Occasionally the wind blows the white cur- 
 tain at the window and sets the candle flame tossimg. 
 
 Tony and Speransky talk in whispers. A prolonged 
 pause follows the rise of the curtain.
 
 82 SAVVA [act in 
 
 TONY (bending over to Speransky, mysteriously) 
 So you say it is possible we do not exist, eh? 
 
 SPERANSKY {in the same manner) 
 
 As I have already stated, it is doubtful, extremely 
 doubtful. There is very good reason to suppose 
 that we really do not exist — that we don't exist 
 at ail. 
 
 TONY 
 
 And you are not, and I am not. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 And you are not, and I am not. No one is. (Pause) 
 TONY (looking around, mysteriously) 
 Where are we then.'' 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 We.? 
 
 TONY 
 
 Yes, we. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 That 's something no one can tell. No one knows, 
 Anthony. 
 
 TONY 
 
 No one.'' 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 No one. 
 TONY (glancing around) 
 Does n't Savva know.? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 No, Sarva does n't know either. 
 
 TONY 
 
 Sawa knows everything. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 But even he does n't know that.
 
 ACT III] SAVVA 83 
 
 TONY (threatening with his finger) 
 
 Keep still, keep still! (Both look around and are 
 
 silent ) 
 TONY (mysteriously) 
 
 Where are they going, eh? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 To the elevation of the ikon. To-morrow is a feast- 
 day — the day of raising the ikon. 
 
 TONY 
 
 No, I mean where are they really going — really — 
 don't you understand? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 I do. It is n't known. No one knows, Anthony. 
 
 TONY 
 
 Hush! {Makes a funny grimace, closes his mouth 
 •with his hand and leans on it) 
 SPERANSKY (in a whisper) 
 What 's the matter ? 
 
 TONY 
 
 Keep quiet, keep quiet. Listen. (Both are listemng) 
 TONY (in a whisper) 
 Those are faces. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Yes? 
 
 TONY 
 
 It 's faces that are going. A lot of faces — can't 
 you see them? 
 SPERANSKY (staHjig) 
 No, I can't. 
 
 TONY 
 
 But I can. There they are, laughing. Why are n't 
 you laughing, eh?
 
 84 SAVVA [act hi 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 I feel very despondent. 
 
 TONY 
 
 Laugh. You must laugh. Everybody is laughing. 
 Hush, hush! (Pause) Listen, nobody exists, no- 
 body — do you understand? There is no God, there 
 is no man, there are no animals. Here is the table — 
 it does n't exist. Here is the candle — it does n't 
 exist. The only things that exist are faces — you 
 understand .f* Keep quiet, keep quiet. I am very 
 much afraid. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 What are you afraid of .'' 
 TONY {bending near to Speransky) 
 That I '11 die of laughter. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Really.? 
 TONY (shaking his head affirmativeli/) 
 
 Yes, that I '11 die of laughter. I am afraid that 
 some day I '11 catch sight of a face which will send 
 me off roaring with laughter ; and I '11 roar and roar 
 until I die. Keep quiet. I know. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 You never laugh. 
 
 TONY 
 
 I am always laughing, but you don't see it. It 's 
 nothing. The only thing I am afraid is that I '11 die. 
 I '11 come across a face one of these days which will 
 start me off in a fit of laughter, and I '11 laugh and 
 laugh and laugh and won't be able to stop. Yes, it 's 
 coming, it 's coming. ( Wipes his chest and neck) 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 The dead know everything.
 
 ACT III] SAVVA 85 
 
 TONY {^mysteriously, with awe) 
 
 I am afraid of Savva's face. It 's a very funny face. 
 One could die laughing over it. The point is that 
 you can't stop laughing — that 's the principal 
 thing. You laugh and laugh and laugh. Is there 
 nobody here.? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Apparently no. 
 
 TONY 
 
 Keep quiet, keep quiet, I know. Keep quiet. {Pause; 
 the tramp of the pilgrim^'s footsteps grows louder, 
 as if they were walking in the very room itself) 
 Are they going? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Yes, they are going. {Pause) 
 
 TONY 
 
 I like you. Sing me that song of yours. I '11 listen. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 With your permission, Anthony. {Sings in an un- 
 dertone, almost in a whisper, a dismal, long-drawn- 
 out twne somewhat resembling a litany) 
 
 Life 's a sham, 't is false, untrue, 
 Death alone is true, aye, true. 
 
 {With increasing caution and pedantry, shaking his 
 finger as if imparting a, secret) 
 
 All things tumble, vanish, break, 
 Death is sure to overtake 
 Outcast, tramp, and tiniest fly 
 Unperceived by naked eye. 
 
 TONY 
 
 What?
 
 86 SAVVA [act hi 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Unperceived by naked eye, 
 Wheedling, coaxing, courting, wooing, 
 Death weds all to their undoing 
 And the myth of life is ended. 
 
 That 's all, Anthony. 
 
 TONY 
 
 Keep still, keep still. You have sung your song — 
 
 now keep quiet. 
 
 [Lipa enters, opens the window, removes the flowers, 
 
 and looks out into the street. Then she lights the 
 
 lamp. 
 
 TONY 
 
 Who is it? Is that you, Lipa? Lipa, eh, Lipa, 
 where are they going? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 They are coming here for the feast-day. You had 
 better go to bed, Tony, or father will see you and 
 scold you. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Big crowds, aren't they? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Yes. But it »s so dark, you can't see. Why are you 
 so pale, Mr. Speransky? It is positively painful to 
 look at you. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 That 's how I feel. Miss Lipa. 
 
 [A cautious knock is heard at the window. 
 LIPA {opening the window) 
 
 Who is there? 
 TONY (to Speransky) 
 
 Keep quiet, keep quiet.
 
 ACT m] SAVVA 87 
 
 YOUNG FRIAR {thmsUng his smiling face through the 
 window) Is Savva Yegorovich in? I wanted to ask 
 him to come with me to the woods. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 No. Are n't you ashamed of yourself, Vassya? To- 
 morrow is a big feast-day in your monastery and 
 you — 
 YOUNG FRTAR (smiUng) 
 
 There are plenty of people in the monastery without 
 me. Please tell Mr. Savva that I have gone to the 
 ravine to catch fireflies. Ask him to call out: 
 " Ho, ho ! " 
 
 LIPA 
 
 What do you want fireflies for.? 
 
 YOUNG FRIAR 
 
 Why, to scare the monks with. I '11 put two fire- 
 flies next to each other like eyes, and they '11 think 
 it 's the devil. Tell him, please, to call : " Ho, ho, 
 ho!" {He disappears in the darkness) 
 LIPA (shouting after him) 
 
 He can't come to-day. (To Speransky) Gone al- 
 ready — ran off. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 They buried three in the cemetery to-day, Miss 
 Olympiada. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Have you seen Sawa? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 No, I am sorry to say I have n't. I say, they buried 
 three people to-day. One old man — perhaps you 
 knew him — Peter Khvorostov.'' 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Yes, I knew him. So he 's dead.''
 
 88 SAVVA [act m 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Yes, and two children. The women wept a great 
 deal. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 What did they die of? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 I am sorry, but I don't know. It did n't interest me. 
 Some children's disease, I suppose. When children 
 die. Miss Olympiada, they turn all blue and look as 
 if they wanted to cry. The faces of grown people 
 are tranquil, but children's faces are not. Why is 
 that so? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I don't know — I 've never noticed it. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 It 's a very interesting phenomenon. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 There 's father now. I told you to go to bed. Now 
 I 've got to listen to your brawling. I '11 get out. 
 {Exit. Enter Yegor Tropinin) 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Who lighted the lamp? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Good evening, Mr. Tropinin. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Good evening. Who lighted the lamp? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Miss Olympiada. 
 YEGOR {blowing it out) 
 
 Learned it from Sawa. {To Tony) And you, 
 what 's the matter with you? How long, how long, 
 for Christ's sake ! How long am I to stand all this
 
 ACT in] SAVVA 89 
 
 from you, you good-for-nothing loafers? Eh? 
 Where did you get the whiskey, eh^ 
 
 TONY 
 
 At the bar. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 It was n't put there for you, was it? 
 
 TONY 
 
 You have a very funny face, father. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Give me the whiskey. 
 
 TONY 
 
 I won't. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Give here ! 
 
 TONY 
 
 I won't. 
 
 YEGOR {slaps his face) 
 Give it to me, I say. 
 
 TONY (falls on the sofa, still holding on to the bottle) 
 I won't. 
 
 YEGOR (sitting down, calmly) 
 
 All right, swill until you bust, devil. What was I 
 saying? That fool put it out of my head. Oh yes, 
 the pilgrims are going it strong this time. It 's been 
 a bad year for the crops. That 's another reason, 
 I suppose. There 's no grub, they have nothing to 
 eat, and so they '11 pray. If God listened to every 
 fool's prayer, we 'd have a fine time of it. If he 
 listened to every fool, what chance would the wise 
 man have? A fool remains a fool. That's why he 
 is called a fool. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 That 's correct.
 
 90 SAVVA [act m 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 I should say it is correct. Father Parfeny is a 
 smart man. He flim-flams them all right. He put 
 up a new coffin — did you hear that .'' The old one 
 has all been eaten away by the pilgrims, so he put a 
 new one into its place. It was old, so he put a new 
 one instead. They '11 eat that one away. No matter 
 what you give them — Tony, are you drinking 
 again ? 
 
 TONY 
 
 I am. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 I am ! I am ! I '11 hand you out another one in a 
 moment and we '11 see what you say then. 
 [Enter Sawa, looking very gay and lively. He 
 stoops less than usual, talks rapidly, and looks sharp 
 and straight, hut his gaze does not rest long on the 
 same person or object. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Ah, the philosophers ! Father ! A worthy assem- 
 blage. Why do you keep it so dark here, like some 
 hell-hole with a lot of rats in it.^* A philosopher has 
 to have light. The dark is good only for going 
 through people's pockets. Where is the lamp? Oh, 
 here it is. {He lights the lamp) 
 YEGOR {ironically) 
 
 Perhaps you '11 open the windows too? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Quite right. I '11 open the windows also. {Opens 
 them) My, how they keep pouring in ! 
 
 SPEEANSKY 
 
 A whole army.
 
 ACT III] SAVVA 91 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 And all of them will die in time and acquire peace. 
 And then they '11 know the truth, for it never comes 
 except in the society of worms. Have I got the 
 essence of your optimistic philosophy down right, 
 my thin, lean friend? 
 SPERANSKY (with a sigh) 
 You are always joking. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 And you are always moping. Look here now. What 
 with the poor, scanty fare the deacon's wife doles 
 out to you and your constant grieving, you will soon 
 die, and then your face will assume an expression of 
 perfect peace. A peaked nose, and all around, 
 stretching in every direction, a vast expanse of peace. 
 Can't you get some comfort out of that.'' Isn't It 
 a consolation to you.^* Think of it, a tiny island of 
 nose lapped in an ocean of peace. 
 SPERANSKY {dejectedly) 
 You are still joking. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 The idea! Who would joke about death.'' No, when 
 you die, I '11 follow your funeral and proclaim to 
 all : " Behold, here is a man who has come to know 
 the truth." Oh no, I '11 rather hang you up as a 
 banner of truth. And the more your skin and flesh 
 decompose and crumble, the more will the truth come 
 out. It will be a most instructive object lesson, 
 highly educative. Tony, why are you staring at me ? 
 TONY {sadly) 
 
 You have a very funny face. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 What are they talking about?
 
 92 SAVVA [act iii 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Father, what's the matter with your face? Have 
 you sooted it? It looks as black as Satan's. 
 YEGOR {quickly putting his hand to his face) 
 Where ? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 They are just making fun. There Is nothing on 
 your face, Mr. Tropinin. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 The fool! Satan? You are Satan yourself, God 
 forgive me ! 
 SAVVA (making a terrible face and holding up his fingers 
 in the shape of horns) I am the devil. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 By God, you are the very devil himself! 
 SAVVA (glancing round the room) 
 
 Isn't the devil going to get any dinner to-day? I 
 have had all I want of sinners. I am surfeited with 
 them. I should like to have something more appe- 
 tizing now. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Where were you knocking about at the regular din- 
 ner hour? You '11 have to do without dinner now. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I was with the children, father, with the children. 
 They told me stories. They tell stories splendidly, 
 and they were all about devils, witches, and the dead 
 — your specialty, philosopher. They trembled with 
 fear as they told them. That 's why we stayed so 
 long. They were afraid to go home. Misha was the 
 only one who was n't scared. He is a brick. He 's 
 afraid of nothing.
 
 ACT III] SAVVA 93 
 
 SPERANSKY ( indiffi'Tt'tltll/) 
 
 What of it? He '11 die too. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 My dear sir, don't be so funereal. You are like an 
 undertakers' trust. Don't be forever croaking: 
 " Die, die, die." Here, take my father, for instance. 
 He '11 soon die ; but look at his face, how pleasant 
 and cheerful it is. 
 
 YEGOE 
 
 Satan ! You 're the devil incarnate ! 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 But since we don't know — 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 My good friend, life is such an interesting business. 
 You understand — life. Come, let 's have a game of 
 jackstones to-morrow. I '11 provide the jacks, first- 
 class jacks. {Enter Lipa, unnoticed) And then 
 you should take gymnastic exercises. I mean it 
 seriously. See how sunken your chest is. You '11 
 choke of consumption in a year or so. The dea- 
 coness will be glad, but it will create consternation 
 among the dead. Seriously now. I have taken gym- 
 nastic exercises. Look. (He lifts a heavy chair 
 easily hy the leg) There, you see! 
 
 LiPA (laughing aloud) 
 Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 SAVVA (putting the chair down, with a touch of em- 
 barrassment) What 's the matter.? I did n't know 
 you were here. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You ought to join the circus as an acrobat. 
 SAVVA (glumly) 
 
 Don't talk nonsense.
 
 94 SAVVA [act III 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Are you offended? 
 SAVVA {suddenly hur sting into a good-natured, merry 
 laugh) Oh, a trifle! All right, the circus, why not? 
 We '11 both join it, Speransky and I. Not as acro- 
 bats though, but as clowns. How about it? Can 
 you swallow hot junk? No? Well, I ']! teach you. 
 As for you, Lipa, won't you please let me have 
 something to eat? I haven't had anything since 
 this morning. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 A regular Satan, a regular Satan ! Has n't had 
 anything to eat ! Who has ever heard of eating at 
 this hour of the night? Who has ever seen such a 
 thing? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I '11 give you a chance to see it now. It 's very in- 
 teresting. Wait, I '11 teach you also how to swallow 
 hot junk. I '11 make you an expert. You '11 be a 
 wonder. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Me? Fcol, you can't teach me anything any more. 
 Tony, give me the whiskey. 
 
 TONY 
 
 I won't. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 The devil take you all ! Brought up and fed a lot 
 of — {Exit) 
 LIPA {handing him milk and dark bread) 
 You seem to be happy to-night? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, I am, and you are happy too. 
 
 1
 
 ACT III] SAVVA 95 
 
 LiPA (laughing) 
 I am. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 And I am happy. (He drinks the milk with avidity; 
 the footsteps in the street grow louder, filling the 
 room with their sound, and then die away again) 
 What a treading and a tramping! 
 LiPA (looking out of the window) 
 
 The weather will be fine to-morrow. As long as I 
 can remember the sun has always been shining 
 brightly that way. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Hm, yes. That 's good. 
 
 I.IPA 
 
 And when they carry the ikon, it sparkles all over 
 with the precious stones like fire. Only His face 
 remains gloomy. All the gems don't give him any 
 pleasure. He is sad and gloomy like the people's 
 woe. 
 SAVVA (coolly) 
 
 Hm, yes. Is that so? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Just think how many tears have fallen upon Him, 
 how many sighs and groans He has heard ! That 
 alone is enough to make the ikon holy for all who 
 love and sympathize with the people and understand 
 their soul. Why, they have nobody except Christ, 
 all those unfortunate, miserable people. When I 
 was a little girl, I was always waiting for a miracle — 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 It would be interesting. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 But now I understand that He Himself is waiting
 
 96 SAVVA [act III 
 
 for a miracle from the people. He is waiting for 
 the people to stop fighting, hating, and destroying 
 each other. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Well, what of it.? 
 
 LIP A (fixing her gaze upon him) 
 
 Nothing. To-morrow you '11 see for yourself when 
 they carry Him in the procession. Yjou '11 see 
 what effect the mere consciousness that He is there 
 with them has upon them, how it transforms them, 
 what it does to them. The whole year round 
 they live a dog's life, in filth, quarrelling with each 
 other, suffering. On that day all the ugliness seems 
 to vanish. It is an awful and a joyous day when 
 suddenly you cast away from yourself all that is 
 superfluous and when you feel so clearly your near- 
 ness to all the unfortunates that are and ever were, 
 and your nearness to God. 
 
 SAVVA (abruptly) 
 What time is it.? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 The clock has just struck a quarter past eleven, if 
 I am not mistaken. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 It 's still early. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Early for what.? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Nothing. It 's still early, that 's all. 
 SAVVA (suspiciously) 
 
 What do you mean.? 
 LIPA (defiantly) 
 
 What I mean.
 
 ACT III] SAVVA 97 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Why did you say it 's still early? 
 
 LiPA (paling) 
 
 Because it 's only a little after eleven ; but when it 's 
 twelve — 
 
 SAVVA (jumpi/ng up and going to her quick! t/; fixing 
 her with his stare, he speaks slowly, pronouncing 
 every xvord separately and distinctly) So? Is that 
 it? When it's twelve — {He turns to Speransky 
 without removing his eyes from Lipa) Listen, you 
 go home. 
 
 LIPA {frightened) 
 
 No, stay, Mr. Speransky. Please stay, I beg you. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 If you don't go at once, I '11 throw you out of the 
 window. Well ? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Excuse me, I never had the faintest idea — I was 
 here with Mr. Anthony Tropinin. I am going in- 
 stantly. Where is my hat? I put it here some- 
 where — 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 There's your hat. {Throws it to him) 
 LIPA {feebly) 
 
 Stay here awhile longer, Mr. Speransky. Sit down. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 No, it 's late. I must go to bed. Good night, Miss 
 Olympiada. Good night, Mr. Tropinin. Your 
 brother is asleep already, I believe. You ought to 
 take him to bed. I 'm going, I 'm going. {Exit) 
 SAVVA {speaking in a quiet, calm tone; his movements 
 are heavy and slow, as if his body had suddenly 
 stiffened) You know it?
 
 98 SAVVA [act hi 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I do. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 You know all? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 AU. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Did the monk tell you? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 He did. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Well? 
 LIPA {drawing bacJc a little, and raising her hand for 
 protection) Well, nothing will happen. There '11 
 be no blowing up. You understand, Savva, there '11 
 be no explosion. 
 
 \^Pause. Footsteps are heard in the street, and in- 
 distinct tailing. Savva turns around. Stooping 
 more than usually, he takes a turn around the room 
 with pecidiar slowness. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Well? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Then you had better believe me, brother. Believe 
 me. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Why that was — I don't know what it was — it 
 was a piece of madness. Think it over. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Is it really true?
 
 ACT ui] SAVVA 99 
 
 LI PA 
 
 Yes, it 's true. It 's all over. You can't help it any 
 more. There is nothing for you to do. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Tell me how it happened. {Sits down deliberately, 
 his eyes fixed on Lipa) 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I guessed a little something long ago — that day 
 when you spoke to me — only I did n't know exactly 
 what it was. And I saw the little machine too. I 
 have another key to the trunk. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Evidently you have been cut out for a spy. Go on! 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I am not afraid of insults. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Never mind, never mind — go on. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Then I saw that you had frequent talks with that 
 fellow — Kondraty. Yesterday I looked in the 
 trunk again, and the machine was n't there. So I 
 understood. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 You say you have another key? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Yes. The trunk is mine, you know. Well, and 
 to-day — 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 When to-day? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Toward evening — I could n't find Kondraty any- 
 where — I told him that I knew all. He got very 
 much frightened and told me the rest.
 
 100 SAVVA [act III 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 A worthy pair — spy and traitor. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 If you are going to insult me, I won't say another 
 word. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Never mind, never mind — go on. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 He was going to tell the Father Superior, but I 
 did n't let him. I did n't want to ruin you. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No.? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 When it was all over, I understood what a crazy 
 scheme it was — so crazy that I simply can't think 
 of it as real. It must have been a nightmare. It 's 
 quite impossible. And I began to feel sorry for 
 you — 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I am sorry for you now too. (With tears) Savva, 
 darling, you are my brother. I have rocked your 
 cradle. My dear angel, what idea is this you have 
 got into your mind? Why, it 's terrible — it 's mad- 
 ness. I understand how hard it must be for you to 
 see how people live, and so you have resolved on a 
 desperate deed. You have always been good and 
 kind, and so I can understand you. Don't you think 
 it 's hard for me to see this life? Don't you think 
 I suffer myself? Give me your hand. 
 SAVVA (pushing her hand away) 
 
 He told you he would go to the Superior?
 
 ACT 111] SAVVA 101 
 
 lAPA 
 
 But I did n't let him. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Has he got the machine? 
 
 I.IPA 
 
 He '11 give it back to you to-morrow. He was afraid 
 to give it to me. Savva dear, don't look at me like 
 that. I know it 's unpleasant for you, but you have 
 a lot of common sense. You can't help seeing that 
 what you wanted to do was an absurdity, a piece of 
 lunacy, a vagary that can come to one only in one's 
 dreams at night. Don't I understand that life is 
 hard? Am I not suffering from it myself? I under- 
 stand even your comrades, the anarchists. It 's not 
 right to kill anybody; but still I understand them. 
 They kill the bad. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 They are not my comrades. I have no comrades. 
 
 lilPA 
 
 Are n't you an anarchist? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 What are you then? 
 TONY [raising his head) 
 
 They are going, they are going. Do you hear? 
 SAVVA (quietly, but ominously) 
 
 They are going. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 There, you see. Who is going? Think of it. It 's 
 human misery that 's going. And you wanted to 
 take away from them their last hope, their last con- 
 solation. And to what purpose? In the name of
 
 102 SAVVA [act m 
 
 what? In the name of some wild, ghastly dream 
 about a " naked earth." {Peers with terror into the 
 darkness of the room) A naked earth! It 's terri- 
 ble to think of it. A naked earth! How could 
 a man, a human being, ever conceive such an idea.'' 
 A naked earth! Nothing, nothing! Everything 
 laid bare, everything annihilated. Everything that 
 people worked for through all the years ; everything 
 they have created with so much toil, with so much 
 pain. Unhappy people ! There is among you a 
 man who says that all this must be burned, must 
 be consumed with fire. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 You remember my words to perfection. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You awakened me, Savva. When you told me all 
 that, my eyes were suddenly opened, and I began 
 to love everything. Do you understand? I began 
 to love it all. These walls — formerly I did n't 
 notice them ; now I am sorry for them — so sorry, 
 I could cry. And the books and everything — each 
 brick, each piece of wood to which man has applied 
 his labor. Let 's admit that it 's poor stuff. Who 
 says it 's good? But that 's why I love it — for its 
 defects, its imperfections, its crooked lines, its un- 
 fulfilled hopes. For the labor and the tears. And 
 all who hear you talking, Savva, will feel as I do, and 
 will begin to love all that is old and dear and human. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I have nothing to do with you. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Nothing to do with us? With whom then have you 
 to do? No, Sawa, you don't love anyone. You
 
 ACT ra] SAVVA 103 
 
 love only yourself and your dreams. He who loves 
 men will not take away from them all they have. He 
 will not regard his own wishes more than their lives. 
 Destroy everything! Destroy Golgotha ! Consider: 
 {mith terror) destroy Golgotha! The brightest, the 
 most glorious hope that ever was on earth! All 
 right, you don't believe in Christ. But if you have a 
 single drop of nobility in your nature, you must re- 
 spect and honor His noble memory. He was also 
 unhappy. He was crucified — crucified, Savva. 
 You are silent? Have you nothing to say.? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Nothing. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I thought — I thought — if you succeeded in carry- 
 ing out your plot — I thought I 'd kill you — that 
 I 'd poison you like some noxious beast. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 And if I don't succeed — 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You are still hoping.? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 And if I don't succeed, I '11 kill you. 
 IJPA (advancing a step toward him) 
 
 Kill me! Kill me! Give me a chance to suffer for 
 the sake of Christ. For the sake of Christ and for 
 the sake of the people. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, I '11 kill you. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Do you suppose I didn't think of it? Do you sup- 
 pose I didn't think of it? Oh, Lord, to suffer for 
 Thee! Is there higher happiness than that?
 
 104 SAVVA [act III 
 
 SAvvA {with a contemptuous gesture, pointing at Lipa) 
 And that 's a human being ! That 's one counted 
 among the best ! That 's the kind in which they take 
 pride! Ah me, how poor you are in good people! 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Insult ! Mock ! That 's the way it has always been. 
 They have always heaped insults upon us before 
 they killed us. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No, I don't mean to insult you. How can I insult 
 you? You are simply a silly woman. There have 
 been many such in the past. There are many such 
 to-day. You are simply a foolish, insignificant 
 creature. You are even innocent, like all insignifi- 
 cant persons. And if I mean to kill you, there is 
 no reason to be proud of it. Don't think you are an 
 object specially worthy of my indignation. No, it 
 would merely make matters a little easier for me. 
 When I was chopping wood, and the axe in my 
 raised arm struck the threshold instead of the log of 
 wood, the jar was not so hard as if someone had 
 arrested the motion of my arm. A raised hand must 
 fall on something. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 And to think that this beast is niy brother! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Whose cradle you rocked and whose diapers you 
 changed. Yes. But to me it does n't seem in the 
 least strange that you are my sister, or that this 
 bundle there is my brother. No, Tony! They are 
 going. {Tony turns his head and stares stupidly 
 •without making any answer^ And it does n't seem 
 in the least strange to me that any insignificant chit
 
 ACT III] SAVVA 105 
 
 and piece of nothingness calling itself my brother 
 or my sister siiould go to the chemist's and buy a 
 nickel's worth of arsenic on finding out who I am. 
 You see, they have even attempted to poison me. 
 The girl who left me tried to do it, but she lost her 
 nerve. The point is that my sisters and brothers, 
 among other things, have the characteristic of being 
 cowards. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I would have done it. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I don't doubt it. You are a little hysterical, and 
 hysterical people are determined, unless they hap- 
 pen to burst into tears first. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I hysterical? All right, have it your way, have it 
 your way. And who are you, Savva? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 That does n't interest me. 
 riPA 
 
 They are going, they are going. And they will find 
 what they need. And that is the work of an hysteri- 
 cal woman. Do you hear how many of them there 
 are? And if they found out — if I were to open the 
 window this minute and cry out : " This man here 
 has tried to destroy your Christ " — If you want it, 
 I '11 do it this instant. You need only say so. Shall 
 I? (She takes a step toward the zmndow m a frenzy 
 of rage) Shall I? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, it 's a good way of escaping the crown of thorns. 
 Go ahead, shout. But look out, don't knock Tony 
 down.
 
 106 SAVVA [act m 
 
 LiPA (^turning back) 
 
 I am sorry for you. You are beaten, and one 
 does n't like to kick a man who is down. But remem- 
 ber, remember, Sawa, there are thousands, thou- 
 sands of them coming in, and each one is your death ! 
 
 SAVVA (smiling) 
 
 The tramp of death. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Remember that each one of these would consider 
 himself happy in killing you, in crushing you like a 
 reptile. Each one of these is your death. Why, 
 they beat a simple thief to death, a horse thief. 
 What would they not do to you! You who wanted 
 to steal their God. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Quite true. That 's property too. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You still have the brazenness to joke.'' Who gave 
 you the right to do such a thing.'' Who gave you 
 power over people? How dare you meddle with 
 what to them is right.'' How dare you interfere 
 with their life.'' 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Who gave me the right? You gave it to me. Who 
 gave me the power? You gave it to me. And I will 
 cling to it with grim determination. Try to take it 
 from me. You gave it to me — you with your mal- 
 ice, your ignorance, your stupidity ! You with your 
 wretched impotence! Right! Power! They have 
 turned the earth into a sewer, an outrage, an abode 
 of slaves. They worry each other, they torture each 
 other, and they ask : " Who dares to take us by the 
 throat?" I! Do you understand? I! (Rises) 

 
 ACT III] SAVVA 107 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You are a mere man like everybody else. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I am the avenger! Behind me follow in pursuit all 
 those whom you stifled and crushed. Ah, they have 
 been pursuing their wicked trade in all quietness, 
 thinking that no one would discover them — think- 
 ing that they would get away with it in the end. 
 They have been lying, grovelling, and sneaking. 
 They have been cringing and abusing themselves be- 
 fore their altars and their impotent God, saying: 
 " There is nothing to be afraid of — we are among 
 ourselves." Then comes a man who says : " An 
 accounting — I want an accounting! What have 
 you done.'* Out with it. Give me an accounting. 
 Go on now ! Don't try to cheat, for I know you. 
 I demand an account for each and every single item. 
 I will not condone a single drop of blood, I will not 
 absolve you from a single tear." 
 
 I>IPA 
 
 But to destroy all. Think of it! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What could you do with them.'' What would you 
 do? Try to persuade the oxen to turn away from 
 their bovine path? Catch each one by his horns and 
 pull him away? Would you put on a frock-coat 
 and read a lecture? Haven't they had plenty to 
 teach them? As if words and thoughts had any 
 significance to them ! Thought* — pure, unhappy 
 thought ! They have perverted it. They have 
 taught it to cheat and defraud. They have made it 
 a saleable commodity to be bought at auction in the 
 market. No, sister, life is short and I am not going
 
 108 SAVVA [act III 
 
 to waste it in arguments with oxen. The way to 
 deal with them is by fire. That 's what they require 
 — fire ! Let them remember long the day on which 
 Savva Tropinin came to the earth! 
 
 LIPA 
 
 But what do you want? What do you want? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What do I want? To free the earth, to free man- 
 kind, to sweep the whole two-legged, chattering tribe 
 out of existence. Man — the man of to-day — is 
 wise. He has come to his senses. He is ripe for 
 liberty. But the past eats away his soul like a canker. 
 It imprisons him within the iron circle of things al- 
 ready accomplished, within the iron circle of facts. 
 I want to demolish the facts — that 's what I want 
 to do : demolish all facts ! To sweep away all the 
 accumulated rubbish — literature, art, God. They 
 have perverted mankind. They have immortalized 
 stupidity. I want to do away with everything be- 
 hind man, so that there is nothing to see when he 
 looks back. I want to take him by the scruff of 
 his neck and turn his face toward the future. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Look here, Savva. You are not immortal, and the 
 two-legged animal has arms also. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Do you think I don't know that every one of these 
 stupid asses would be glad to kill me? But it won't 
 happen, it won't happen. The time has come for 
 my arrival, and I have arrived. Prepare yourselves. 
 The time has come. You little insignificant thing 
 there — you thought that by stealing one little
 
 ACT III] SAVVA 109 
 
 possibility away from me you could rob me of all? 
 Oh no — I am as rich as ever. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I am your sister, but oh ! how glad I am that you are 
 not immortal. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I see that you are a thoroughgoing anarchist. They 
 too think that all is done if one man is killed. But 
 if they kill me, hang me, break me on the wheel, 
 there will come another purer than I. Where there 's 
 an itch, there is always somebody to scratch it! 
 Yes, sister! If not I, then someone else, and 
 (clenchi/ng his fist) it will fare ill with your world. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You are a terrible man. I thought you would be 
 crushed by your failure, but you are like Satan. 
 The fall has only made you blacker. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, Lipa, only a sparrow can fly straight up from 
 the ground. A large bird must descend to adjust 
 and spread its wings for its upward flight. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Are n't you sorry for the children ? Think of the 
 number of children that will have to perish. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What children? Oh yes, Misha. (Tenderly) Misha 
 is a fine boy, that 's true. When he grows up, he 
 will show you no mercy. Yes, the children — You 
 are beginning to be afraid of them, and you have 
 good reason for it. Never mind. It 's true that I 
 love children. (With pride) And they love me. 
 But they don't care for you.
 
 110 SAVVA [act III 
 
 XIPA 
 
 I don't play jackstones with them. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 How silly you are, sister. But I like to play with 
 them. 
 
 LI PA 
 
 Then go ahead and play. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Well, I zvUl play. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 When you talk like that I have the feeling once 
 more that it has all been a dream — all that we were 
 saying just now. Is it really true that you want 
 to kill me? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, if it must be done. But perhaps it won't be 
 necessary. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You are joking! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Every one of you will have it that I am joking. 
 You keep constantly telling me so. You seem to 
 have utterly lost the sense for what is serious. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 No, it 's not a dream. They are going. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, they are going. {Both listen) 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You still seem to believe. What do you believe.? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I believe in my destiny. (The hour begins to strike 
 in the helfry of the monastery) Twelve.
 
 ACT III] SAVVA 111 
 
 LiPA {counting) 
 
 Seven — eight — and to think that this is the hour 
 when it should have happened — the very idea of 
 it — (A muffled report as of a powerful explosion 
 is heard) What was that? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, what was it? 
 
 [Both rush to the window, waking Tony, who moves 
 his head sleepily. The tread of the footsteps in the 
 street stops momentarily. Then all begin to run. 
 Frightened cries are heard, weeping, loud, abrupt 
 ejaculations of " What 's the matter? " " Oh, 
 Lord! " " Fire, fire! " " No, something has fallen 
 down! " " Let 's run! " The word " monastery " is 
 frequently heard. 
 
 TONY 
 
 They are running! Where are they running to? 
 Why is nobody here? 
 PELAGUEYA (entering the room, half dressed) 
 
 Oh, Lord ! Oh, heavens ! Is it possible the monas- 
 tery is on fire! Good gracious! Heavens! And 
 you here, you drunken sot ! You monster I 
 
 TONY 
 
 Oho! They are running? Faces, mugs, eh? 
 [The bell begins to toll the alarm. Then the strokes 
 follow each other in more rapid succession; hasty, 
 disquieting, uneven, they blend with the noise of the 
 street and seem to creep through the window. 
 PELAGUEYA (crying) 
 
 Good God, I don't know where to turn. 
 
 [She runs out. The cries in the street grow louder. 
 
 Someone yells in one prolonged note " Oh-oh-oh! "
 
 112 SAW A [act III 
 
 vntil the sound is drowned in the general noise, 
 excitement, and ringing. 
 
 LiPA {moving away from the window, very pale, stupe- 
 fied) What does it mean? It cannot be. It is 
 impossible. Tony, Tony, get up. Tony, brother, 
 what does it mean? Tony! 
 
 TONY {reassuringly) 
 
 It 's nothing. They are all faces. 
 
 SAVVA {leaving the window, calm and stern, hut also 
 pale) Well, sister? 
 
 LiPA {flinging herself about the room) 
 
 I want to run with the rest. I '11 run. Where is 
 my scarf? Where is my scarf? My God, My God! 
 Where is my scarf? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Your scarf? There it is. But I won't give it to you. 
 Sit down ; you have nothing to do there. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Let me have it. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 No, sit down, sit down. It 's too late now anyway. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Too late? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, too late. Don't you hear the noise the crowd 
 is making and the way they are running and pushing? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I '11 run, I '11 run. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Keep still — sit down. {Forces her to sit down) 
 Tony, did you hear? They 've exploded God. 
 TONY {looking at Savva^s face in terror) 
 
 Savva, don't make me laugh. Turn your face away.
 
 ACT III] SAVVA 11.3 
 
 [Savva smiles and walks around the room with buoy- 
 ant step, without his usual stoop. 
 LIP A (faintly/) 
 Sawa. 
 
 SAA^VA 
 
 What is it? Speak louder. 
 
 IIPA 
 
 Is it really true? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 It 's true. 
 
 lilPA 
 
 And doesn't He really exist? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 He does not. 
 
 [Lipa begins to cry, at first low, then more and more 
 loudly. The sound of the ringing bells and the noise 
 of the crowd continue to swell. The rolling and 
 clatter of wagons is also heard. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 They are running. My, how they are running! 
 {Lipa says something, but her words are inaudible) 
 Louder. I can't hear you. My, how they are 
 ringing. 
 I.IPA {aloud) 
 Kill me, Sawa. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Why? You '11 die anyhow. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I can't wait. I '11 kill myself. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Go ahead, kill yourself, kill yourself quick! 
 
 [Lipa cries, burying her head in the armchair. 
 
 Tony, his face distorted with fear, looks at Sawa,
 
 114 SAVVA [act III 
 
 holding both his hands in readiness at his mouth. 
 Loud peals of the bell. The disquieting sound blends 
 with the loud tone of Savva's speech. 
 
 SAVVA (shouting) 
 
 Ah ! They are ringing. Ring on ! Ring on ! Soon 
 the whole earth will ring. I hear! I hear! I see 
 your cities burning! I see the flames. I hear the 
 crackling. I see the houses tumbling on your heads. 
 There is no place to run to. No refuge ! No refuge ! 
 Fire everywhere. The churches are burning. The 
 factories are burning. The boilers are bursting. An 
 end to all slavish toil! 
 
 TONY {trembling with fear) 
 
 Savva, shut up, or I am going to laugh. 
 
 SAVVA (unheeding) 
 
 The time has come ! The time has come ! Do you 
 hear.'' The earth is casting you out. There is no 
 place for you on earth. No! He is coming! I see 
 him ! He is coming, the free man ! He is being born 
 in the flames ! He himself is fire and resolution ! An 
 end to the earth of slaves ! 
 
 TONY 
 
 Savva, shut up ! 
 SAVVA (^bending down to Tony) 
 
 Be prepared ! He is coming ! Do you hear his 
 tread.'' He is coming! He is coming! 
 
 CUETAIN
 
 THE FOURTH ACT 
 
 Near the monastery. A broad road crosses the stage 
 ohliquely. On the far side of the road is the river, 
 beyond which opens a wide prospect of the surrounding 
 country — meadows, woods, and villages, with the 
 crosses of the churches burning in the sun. In the dis- 
 tance, at the right, where the mountain projects over a 
 glistening bend of the river, is seen a part of the walls 
 and the towers of the monastery. On the near side of 
 the road is a hilly elevation covered with trampled 
 grass. It is between five and six in the morning. The 
 sun is out. The mist over the meadow is scattering 
 slowly. 
 
 Now and then a pilgrim or group of pilgrims may 
 be seen hurrying by on their way to the monastery. 
 Wagons carrying cripples and other monstrosities pass 
 along the road. The noise of thousands may be heard 
 from the monastery. The crowd is evidently moved by 
 some joyous emotion. No individual voices are heard, 
 but it is as if one could feel the singing of the blind, 
 the cries, and the quick, glad snatches of conversation. 
 The general effect is that of an elemental force. The 
 noise decreases at regular intervals, like a wave, and 
 then the singing of the blind becomes distinctly audible. 
 
 Lipa and the Young Friar appear on the near side of 
 the road. Lipa is sitting on the hillock, dressed as she 
 was the night before, but her head is covered with a 
 white scarf carelessly tied. She is exhausted with joy
 
 116 SAVVA [act IV 
 
 and almost dropping off to sleep. The Friar stands 
 near her. On his face there is a troubled, vacant look. 
 His movements are irresolute and avmless. He tries 
 to smile, hut his smile is twisted and pitiful. He is like 
 a child who feels hurt without knowing the cause. 
 
 T.iPA {untying her scarf) 
 
 Heavens, but this is splendid ! I should like to die 
 
 here. I can't get enough of it. Oh, it 's splendid, 
 
 it 's splendid ! 
 FRIAR {looking around) 
 
 Yes, it is splendid. But I can't stand it in there. 
 
 I can't. They push and jostle and press and jam. 
 
 They crushed the life out of one woman, absolutely 
 
 crushed her. She had a child with her. I could n't 
 
 look at it. I — I '11 go to the woods. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 How splendid ! Oh, Lord ! 
 FRIAR {looking dejectedly into the distance) 
 I '11 go to the woods. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 And to think that only yesterday everything was 
 just as usual. There was nothing of all this, no 
 miracle, nothing. There was only Savva — I can't 
 believe it was yesterday. It seems to me a whole 
 year has passed, a century. Oh, Lord! 
 FRIAR {his face clouding) 
 Why did he do it.? Why.? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Can't you guess, Vassya? 
 FRIAR {waving his hand) 
 
 I asked him to come to the woods with me. He 
 should have come.
 
 ACT iv] SAVVA in 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Did he tell you anything? 
 FKiAR (waving his hand) 
 
 He should have come. Yes, he should have come. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Ah, Vassya, Vassya, on account of your woods you 
 missed one of the greatest events that ever happened 
 — so great, in fact, that no man remembers the like 
 of it. Ah, Vassya, how can you be speaking about 
 anything else when right now, right here — right 
 here — a miracle has happened. Do you under- 
 stand? A miracle! The very mention of it fills one 
 with awe. A miracle ! Oh, God ! Where were you, 
 Vassya, when the explosion occurred? In the woods? 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Yes, in the woods. I did n't hear the explosion. I 
 only heard the ringing of the alarm bell. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Well? 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Nothing. I ran back and found the gate open and 
 everybody crying like mad. And the ikon — 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Well, well? Did you see? 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Yes, it was in the same place as before. And all 
 around — {Growing animated) You know the 
 iron grating over there — you know it, don't you? 
 It was twisted like a rope. It 's funny to look at. 
 It looks like something soft. I touched it, and it 
 was n't soft, of course. What power ! It must have 
 been something tremendous.
 
 118 SAVVA [act IV 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Well, and what about the ikon — the ikon? 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 What about it? Nothing. It's there in its place, 
 and our people are praying to it. 
 
 LI PA 
 
 Oh, Lord! And the glass is whole too? 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 The glass is whole too. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 That 's what they told me, but I can't believe it yet. 
 Forgive me, O Lord! Well, what are they doing? 
 They are overjoyed, I suppose. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Yes, they are overjoyed. They act as if they were 
 drunk. You can't make out what they are saying. 
 A miracle, a miracle. Father Kirill keeps grunting 
 like a pig " Oui, oui, oui." They put cold compresses 
 on his head. He is fat, and he may pass out any 
 moment. No, I can't stand it here. Come, let us go. 
 I '11 take you home, Miss Olympiada. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 No, Vassya dear, I '11 go in there. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Don't go, for heaven's sake. They '11 crush you, as 
 they did that woman. They are all like drunk. 
 They are carrying on and shouting like mad, with 
 their eyes wide open. Listen. Can't you hear them? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You are still a boy, Vassya. You don't understand. 
 Why, it 's a miracle. All their lives these people 
 have been waiting for a miracle. Perhaps they had 
 already begun to despair, and now — O Lord ! It 's
 
 ACT iv] SAVVA 119 
 
 enough to make you mad with joy. Yesterday, when 
 I heard the cry of " a miracle," I thought : " No, 
 it 's impossible. How could it happen? " But then 
 I saw them crying, crossing themselves, and going 
 down on their knees. And the ringing of the alarm 
 bell stopped. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Oh, it was Afanassy who rang. He 's terribly 
 strong, a regular giant. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 And the only thing heard was " A miracle, a mira- 
 cle ! " No one spoke, and yet one kept hearing " A 
 miracle, a miracle," as if the whole earth had become 
 articulate. And even now, when I close my eyes, I 
 hear " A miracle, a miracle! " (She closes her eyes 
 and listens with an ecstatic smile) How splendid! 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 I am sorry for Mr. Savva. Listen to the noise they 
 are making. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Oh, don't talk about him. He '11 have to answer to 
 God. Are they going to sing " Christ is arisen " 
 instead of the usual hymn when they carry the ikon 
 in the procession to-day? Vassya, do you hear? 
 I am asking you a question. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Yes, they say that they are. Go home, Miss Olym- 
 piada, won't you? 
 
 I.IPA 
 
 You can go, if you like. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 But how can I leave you alone? They '11 come tear-
 
 120 SAVVA [act IV 
 
 ing down here soon. For heaven's sake, there is Mr. 
 Savva ! 
 
 \^Savva comes in hatless. His face is dark and 
 stormz/. There are lines under his eyes. He looks 
 sideways with a steady stare. Frequently he glances 
 around and seems to he listening to something. His 
 gait is heavy, hut quick. Noticing Lipa and the 
 Friar, he turns and walks toward them. At his 
 approach Lipa rises and turns away. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Have 3'ou seen Kondraty? 
 
 TRIAB 
 
 No, he is in the monastery. 
 
 [Savva remains standing in silence. The noise in 
 the monastery has suhsided and the sad, pitiful sing- 
 ing of the hlind is heard. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Mr. Sawa. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Have you got a cigarette.? 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 No, I don't smoke. {Plaintively) Come to the 
 woods, Mr. Savva. {Savva remains immovable and 
 silent) They '11 kill you, Mr. Tropinin. Come to 
 the woods ^ — ^ please come! {Savva looks fixedly at 
 him, then silently turns and walks away) Mr. Tro- 
 pinin, on my word you had better come with me to 
 the woods. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Leave him alone. He is like Cain. He can't find a 
 place on the earth. Everybody is rejoicing, and 
 he —
 
 ACT IV ] SAVVA -'^1 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 His face is black. I am sorry for him. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 He is black all through. You had better keep away 
 from him, Vassya. You don't know whom you are 
 pitying. You are too young. I am his sister. I 
 love him, but if he is killed, it will be a benefit to the 
 whole world. You don't know what he wanted to 
 do. The very thought of it is terrible. He is a 
 madman, Vassya, a fearful lunatic. Or else he is — 
 I don't know what. 
 FRIAR (leaving Ms hand) 
 
 You need n't tell me all that. I know. Of course 
 I know. Don't I see? But I am sorry for him all the 
 same, and I am disgusted too. Why did he do it? 
 Why? What stupid things people will do ! Oh, my! 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I have only one hope — that he has understood at 
 last. But if — 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Well, what's the "if"? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Oh, nothing, but — When he came here, it was as 
 if a cloud had passed across the sun. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 There you go also ! You should be happy — Why 
 don't you rejoice? Don't be " ifRng " and "but- 
 ting." ' 
 
 [A croxvd begins to collect gradually. Two wagons 
 with cripples stop on the road. A paralytic has 
 been sitting for some time under a tree, crying and 
 blowing his nose and rviping it with his sleeve. A
 
 122 SAVVA [act IV 
 
 Man in Feasant Overcoat appears from the direction 
 of the monastery. 
 
 MAN IN OVERCOAT (officioUsly) 
 
 We must get the cripples over to Him, to the ikon — 
 we must get them over there. What 's the matter, 
 women, are you asleep? Come on, move along. 
 You '11 get your rest over there. What 's the matter 
 with you, gran'pa? Why are n't you moving along? 
 You ought to be there with your legs. Go on, old 
 man, go on. 
 PARALYTIC (crying) 
 I can't walk. 
 
 MAN IN OVERCOAT (fuSsHy) 
 
 Oh, that 's it? That 's what 's the matter with you, 
 eh? Come, I '11 give you a lift. Get up. 
 
 PARALYTIC 
 
 I can't. 
 
 PASSER-BY 
 
 Won't his legs work? What you want to do is to 
 put him on his feet, and then he '11 hop away by 
 himself. Isn't that right, old man? 
 
 MAN IN OVERCOAT 
 
 You take hold of him on that side, and I '11 take this 
 one. Well, old man, get a move on you. You won't 
 have to suffer long now. 
 
 PASSER-BY 
 
 There he goes, hop, hop. That 's right. Go it, go 
 it, old man, and you won't get left. {He goes away) 
 FRIAR (smiling happily) 
 
 They started him going all right. Clever, isn't it? 
 He is galloping away at a great rate too. Good- 
 bye, old gran'pa.
 
 ACT IV ] SAVVA 123 
 
 LiPA {crying) 
 
 Lord ! Lord ! 
 FRiAB {pained) 
 
 What 's the matter? Don't cry, for pity's sake. 
 
 What are you crying for? There is no cause for 
 
 crying. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 No cause do you say, Vassya? I am crying for joy. 
 Why aren't you glad, Vassya? Don't you believe 
 in the miracle? 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Yes, I do. But I can't bear to see all this. They 
 all behave like drunks, and shout and make a noise. 
 You can't understand what they are talking about. 
 They crushed that woman. ( With pain and dis- 
 gust) They squeezed the life out of her. Oh, Lord, 
 I simply can't! And the whole business. Father 
 Kirill keeps grunting " Oui, oui, oui." {Laughs 
 sadly) Why is he grunting? 
 LIPA {sternly) 
 
 You learned that from Savva. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 No, I did n't. Tell me, why is he grunting? {Laughs 
 sadly) Why? 
 
 [Yegor Tropinin enters dressed in holiday attire, his 
 heard and hair combed. He looks extremely solemn 
 and stern. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Why are you here, eh? And in that kind of dress? 
 You 're a fine sight. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 J bad no time to get dressed.
 
 124 SAVVA [act iv 
 
 YEGOK 
 
 But you found time to get here. What you have no 
 business to do you have time for, but what you 
 should do you have no time for. Go home and get 
 dressed. It is n't proper. Who has ever seen such 
 a thing.'' 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Oh, papa ! 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 There is nothing to " oh " about. It 's all right, 
 papa is papa, but 3'ou see I am properly dressed. 
 I dressed and then went out. That 's the right way 
 to do. Yes, It 's a pleasure to look at myself side- 
 ways, I dressed as was proper, yes. On a day 
 like this you ought to give a hand at the counter. 
 Tony has disappeared, and Polya can't do all the 
 work herself. You need n't be making such a face 
 now, 
 MERCHANT (passing by) 
 
 Congratulate you on the miracle, Mr, Tropinin! 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 Thank you, brother, the same to you. Wait, I '11 go 
 with you. You are a goose, Olympiada. You have 
 always been a goose, and you have remained a goose 
 to this day. 
 
 MERCHANT 
 
 You '11 have a fine trade now. 
 
 YEGOR 
 
 If it please the Lord! Why are you so late.? Have 
 you been sleeping.'' You keep sleeping, all of you,* 
 all the time. {They go out) 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 I scattered all the fireflies I caught on the road when
 
 ACT IV ] SAVVA 1:1 
 
 ) 
 
 I ran last night. And now the crowd has trampled 
 them down. I wish I had left them in the woods. 
 Listen to tlic way they are shouting. I wonder 
 what 's the matter. They must have squeezed some- 
 body to death again. 
 
 LiPA (closing her eyes) 
 
 When 3'ou talk, Vassya, your words seem to pass 
 by me. I hear and I don't hear. I think I should 
 like to stay this way all my life without moving from 
 the spot. I should like to remain forever with my 
 eyes shut, listening to what is going on within me. 
 Oh, Lord ! What haj^piness ! Do you understand, 
 Vassya? 
 
 FBIAR 
 
 Yes, I understand. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 No. Do you understand what it Is that has hap- 
 pened to-day.'' Why, it means that God has said — ■ 
 God Himself has said : " Wait and do not fear. 
 You are miserable. Never mind, it 's nothing, it 's 
 only temporary. You must wait. Nothing has to 
 be destroyed. You must work and wait." Oh, it 
 will come, Vassya, it will come. I feel it now, I 
 know it. 
 
 FRIAU 
 
 What will come? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Life, Vassya, real life will come. Oh, mercy ! I still 
 feel like crying for joy. Don't be afraid. 
 [Speransky and Tony enter, the latter very gloomy, 
 glancing sideways and sighing. In a queer way he 
 sometimes recalls Savva by his gait and look.
 
 126 SAVVA [act IV 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Good morning, Miss Olympiada. Good morning, 
 Vassya. What an extraordinary event, if we are to 
 believe what people say. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Believe, Mr. Speransky, believe. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 You judge in a very simple offhand manner. If, 
 however, you take into consideration the fact that 
 it is highly probable that nothing exists, that even 
 we ourselves do not exist — 
 
 TONY 
 
 Keep quiet. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Why? There is no miracle for me, Miss Olympiada. 
 If at this moment, for example, everything on this 
 earth were suddenly to be suspended in the air, I 
 should n't regard it as a miracle. 
 
 XIPA 
 
 As what then ? You 're a very peculiar man. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 I should look on it simply as a change. It was first 
 one thing and then it became another. If you wish, 
 I '11 admit that for me the very fact that things are 
 as they are is in itself a miracle. All are glad and 
 rejoicing, but I sit and think: "Time is blinking 
 his eyes now, and there is a change. The old peo- 
 ple are dead, and in their places appear the young. 
 And they are apparently glad and rejoicing too." 
 
 TONY • 
 
 Where is Sawa? 
 
 XIPA 
 
 Why do you want him.^*
 
 ACT IV ] SAVVA 127 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 He has been looking for Mr. Savva ever so long. 
 We have looked everywhere, but have not been able 
 to find hira. 
 
 FEIAR 
 
 He was here awhile ago. 
 
 TONY 
 
 Where did he go,'' 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 To the monastery, I think. 
 TONY {pulling Speransky) 
 Come. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Good-bye, Miss Olympiada. How they are shouting 
 over there! The time will come when they will all 
 be silent. {They go off) 
 FRIAR {disturbed) 
 
 Why are they looking for Mr. Sawa? 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I don't know. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 I don't like that seminarist. Always nosing about 
 where there are dead around. What does he want? 
 He is a dreadfully disagreeable fellow. Never misses 
 a funeral. He smells death miles away. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 He is an unhappy creature. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Unhappy.? Why is he unhappy? Even the dogs in 
 the village are afraid of him. You don't believe it? 
 It 's so, upon my word ! They bark at him, and 
 then slink away behind the gate.
 
 128 SAVVA [act iv 
 
 LIPA 
 
 What does all this matter anyway, Vassya? It 's 
 of no account, mere trifles. To-day they are going 
 to sing: " Christ is arisen from the dead. Death 
 has conquered death." Do you understand.'' 
 " Death has conquered death." 
 
 FRIAE 
 
 I understand. I understand. But why does he say 
 " All will become silent " and that sort of stuff? 
 I don't like it, I don't like it. They have crushed 
 a woman to death — perhaps others too. {Shaking 
 his head) I don't like it. In the woods everything 
 is so quiet and nice, and here — I 'd prefer that no 
 miracle had happened. I 'd rather have things nice 
 and pleasant. What 's the use of it.? What 's the 
 use of the miracle.'' There is no need of a miracle. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 What are you talking about, Vassya? 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Savva Tropinin ! The idea. It should n't have been 
 done. There was no need of it. He said he 'd go 
 with me to the woods and then — I liked him a lot, 
 but now I am afraid of him. Why did he do it.f* 
 Why.'' My, what a fearful crowd! More cripples 
 coming, and more and more. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 What is the matter, Vassya? What are you so 
 excited about? 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Everything was so nice and fine. Oh, my! Why 
 don't you go home. Miss Olympiada? Do go, please. 
 You have seen all there is to be seen. It 's enough. 
 What can you gain by staying here? Come, I '11
 
 ACT IV ] SAVVA 129 
 
 go with you. Oh, God, there comes Mr. Savva 
 again ! 
 
 XIPA 
 
 Where ? 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 There he is. For heaven's sake! 
 SAVVA {enters and sits down) 
 Has Kondratj been here.'* 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 No, Mr. Savva. 
 
 [Pause. Again the piteous singing of the blind can 
 
 he heard. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Got a cigarette, Vassya,'' 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 No, I have n't. I don't smoke. 
 LIP A {harshly) 
 
 What are you waiting for, Sawa? Go away. You 
 are not wanted here. Look at yourself. You are a 
 terrible sight. Your face is black. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 I did n't sleep all last night. That 's why it 's black. 
 
 JAVA 
 
 What are you waiting for? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 For an explanation. 
 
 I>IPA 
 
 You don't believe in the miracle? 
 SAVVA {smiling) 
 
 Vassya, do you believe in the miracle? 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Yes, of course I do, Mr. Sawa.
 
 130 SAVVA [act IV 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Wait. You '11 find out. What are they doing down 
 there.-* They have already crushed three to death. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Three? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 And they '11 kill many more. And they all keep 
 shouting: "A miracle, a miracle!" At last it has 
 come. They have got what they have been waiting 
 for at last. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 And it 's you, Sawa, who gave them the miracle. 
 It 's you who are to be thanked for it. 
 SAVVA {gloomily) 
 
 Well, Vassya, the monks are glad, aren't they.? 
 Tell me, don't be afraid. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 They are very glad, Mr. Sawa. They are crying. 
 
 SAVVA {looking at him) 
 
 Crying? Why are they crying.'' 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 I don't know. I suppose for joy. Father Kirill 
 grunts like a pig " Oui, oui, oui." They all act as 
 if they were drunk. 
 SAVVA {rising, agitated) 
 
 As if they were drunk? What does that mean? 
 Perhaps they really are drunk. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Oh no, Mr. Tropinin. It 's all on account of the 
 miracle. They are mad with joy. Father Kirill 
 keeps grunting " Oui, oui, oui." He vows that if
 
 ACT IV ] SAVVA 131 
 
 he remains alive he '11 swear off liquor and live as a 
 hermit. 
 SAVVA {eyeing him) 
 
 Well? 
 
 FEIAR 
 
 That 's all. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What do they say? 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 They say they '11 do penance and stop sinning. They 
 
 hug each other and behave as if they were drunk. 
 SAVVA {walking up and down., stroking his forehead 
 
 with his hand) Yes, hm. So that 's the way! Yes. 
 LiPA (following him with her eyes) 
 
 Go away from here, Savva. You are not wanted 
 
 here. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What? 
 LIPA (reluctantly) 
 
 They may recognize you and then — Why don't 
 you put on a hat at least? You look like — 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Yes, go — please go — dear Mr. Sawa. Why, they 
 
 — why, they might kill you ! 
 SAVVA (in a. sudden outburst of anger) 
 
 Leave me alone ! No one will kill me. It 's bosh ! 
 
 (Pause. Sits down) I wish I could get a drink of 
 
 water or something. I am very thirsty. Is n't there 
 
 a pool or something of the kind around here? 
 FRIAR (looking in terror at Sawa) 
 
 No, it 's all dried up. 
 SAVVA (frowning) 
 
 Sorry.
 
 132 SAVVA [act iv 
 
 FEIAE 
 
 Oh, that woman there has a jug of water. (Glee- 
 fidly) I '11 go and ask her for it. {Runs) 
 
 LIPA 
 
 You ought not to have that water. Go away from 
 here, Savva, go away. Look what gladness there is 
 all around you. Everybody, everything rejoices. 
 The earth is glad. The sun is glad. You are the 
 only one who is not — you alone. I still can't forget 
 that you are my brother. Go. But wherever you 
 go, bear with you the memory of this day always. 
 Remember that the same fate awaits you every- 
 where. The earth will not surrender her God to 
 you ; the people will not surrender to you that 
 whereby they live and breathe. Yesterday I still 
 feared you. To-day I regard you with pity. You 
 are pitiful, Savva! Go! Why are you laughing.'' 
 SAVVA {smiling) 
 
 Is n't it a little premature, sister, for you to be de- 
 livering my funeral oration.'' 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Aren't you frightened yet."* 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Why should I be frightened ? At your tricks and 
 jugglery.'' I am used to the lies and frauds, Lipa, 
 You can't frighten me with them. I still have a 
 lot of stupid confidence left. It will help. It will 
 come in handy the next time. 
 
 XIPA 
 
 Savva ! 
 FRIAR {bringing the jug of water) 
 
 I had the hardest time getting it from her. She was
 
 ACT IV ] SAVVA 133 
 
 like flint. She said she needed it herself. She was 
 a hard case. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Thank you, boy. (Drinks with avidity) Fine! 
 
 (Drinks the last drop) That was fine water. Take 
 
 it back and tell the woman her water was fine and 
 
 that there is none like it in all the world. 
 FRIAR (merrily) 
 
 All right, I '11 tell her. (Goes off) 
 IJPA (in a whisper) 
 
 You are the enemy of the human race. 
 SAVVA (smacking his lips) 
 
 Very well, very well. Just wait. We '11 hear what 
 
 Kondraty has to say. The blackguard ! I '11 give it 
 
 to him ! 
 liiPA (with emphasis, hut still in a whisper as before) 
 
 You are the enemy of the human race ! You are the 
 
 enemy of the human race ! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Louder! No one hears you. It's a spicy bit of 
 information. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Go away from here. 
 [^The Friar returns. 
 
 SAVVA (looking into the distance with narrowed eyes) 
 It 's nice out there, is n't it, Vassya? Whose woods 
 are they.? Vazy kin's .f* Have I ever been there with 
 you? 
 
 FRIAR (gleefully) 
 
 Yes, they 're Vazykin's. I was there yesterday, Mr. 
 Savva. I caught a whole handful of fireflies, but as 
 I ran — (He grows sorrowfid at the memory) 
 My, how they are shouting! What are they up to
 
 134 SAVVA [act iv 
 
 anyway? Did you say they killed three, Mr. Tro- 
 pinin? Was that what you said? 
 SAVVA {coolly) 
 Yes, three. 
 
 FRIAH 
 
 What are they pushing and jostling for anyhow? 
 He '11 be carried in the procession and they can all 
 see Him. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 When will they carry Him? 
 FRIAR {looking up) 
 It won't be long now. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 They '11 sing " Christ is Arisen " to-day. 
 SAVVA {smiling) 
 
 Is that so? Didn't I arrange a feast-day for them 
 
 though ? 
 
 [Tony and SperansJcy appear. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Are these fellows here too? For goodness' sake, 
 ^vhat do they want? What are they looking for? 
 I don't like it. Mr. Tropinin, come ; let 's go away 
 from here. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Why? 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 They are coming this way, Speransky — 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Aha ! The " Tramp of Death " is approaching. 
 [Lipa looks at him in astonishment. The Friar 
 presses his hand to his bosom in a state of agitation. 
 FRIAR {plaintively) 
 
 What are you saying? Oh, God! Why did you say
 
 ACT iv] SAVVA 135 
 
 that? You mustn't do it. This is no tramp of 
 death, nothing of the kind. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 It 's a kind of story he has written — Good morn- 
 ing, good morning. What can I do for you? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Mr. Anthony Tropinin is looking for you, Mr. 
 Sawa. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What do you want? 
 
 TONY {very sadly, hidi/ng a little behind Speransky) 
 Nothing. 
 
 FRIAR (listening attentively and then speaking with 
 passion) What are you running around for then, 
 and whom are you hunting? If you want nothing, 
 do nothing. But you are running around and hunt- 
 ing, hunting. It is n't nice, I tell you ! 
 
 TONY {after a passing glance at the Friar he fixes his 
 gaze on Sawa) Sawa. 
 
 SAVVA {irritated) 
 What do you want? 
 
 [Tony makes no answer, but hides behind Speran- 
 sky, looking over his shoulder. In the course of 
 what follows he keeps steadily looking at Sawa. 
 His lips and eyebrows twitch, and at times he presses 
 both his hands hard against his mouth. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 The crowd is in a state of great agitation, Miss 
 Olympiada. They broke the old gate opening on the 
 other side of the woods and rushed in. The Father 
 Superior came out and asked them to behave. They 
 shout so you can't hear anything at all. Many are 
 rolling on the ground in convulsions. I suppose
 
 136 SAVVA [act IV 
 
 they are sick. It 's very strange, quite unusual in 
 fact, 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Will they carry Him out soon? I must go. (Rises) 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 They say it '11 be soon now. One wagon with crip- 
 ples in it was upset — cripples without hands or 
 feet. They are lying on the ground crying. It 's 
 all so strange. 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 What? Did you see it yourself? 
 \^Kondraty appears on the road coming from the 
 monastery. He is walking in the company of two 
 pilgrims, who are listening attentively to hvm. 
 Catching sight of Sawa, Kondraty says something 
 to his companions, who remain standing where they 
 are while he goes up to Sawa. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Aha! 
 KONDRATY {clean, spruce, beaming) 
 
 Good morning, Miss Olympiada. Good morning to 
 you too, Mr. Sawa Tropinin. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Good morning, good morning. You have come after 
 all? You were not afraid? 
 KONDRATY (calmly) 
 
 Why should I be afraid? You won't kill me, I sup- 
 pose, and if you should, it would be sweet to die at 
 your hands. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 What bravery ! And how clean you are ! You are 
 positively painful to look at. You did n't make 
 quite so smart an appearance when you lay wallow-
 
 ACT IV ] SAVVA 137 
 
 ing in the puddle. You were a little the worse for 
 the mud, and so on. 
 KONDRATY (shrugging his shoulders and speaking with 
 dignity) It 's no use recalling that incident now. 
 It 's quite out of place. Mr. Tropinin, it 's time for 
 you to have done with your spite and malice, high 
 time. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Well? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 That 's all. There is no " well " about it. You 
 have had vour shot. Be satisfied. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Are congratulations upon the miracle in order? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Yes, Mr. Tropinin, upon the miracle — the miracle, 
 indeed. {He weeps with a bland air, wiping his face 
 with his handkerchief) God granted that I should 
 live to see the day. 
 SAVVA (rising and advancing a step toward the monk; 
 peremptorily) Enough now! Stop your hocus- 
 pocus. You have played your trick. Now stop, or 
 I '11 knock all that jugglery out of you. Do you 
 hear.f* 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 Mr. Savva, good Mr. Savva, please don't. 
 KONDRATY (drawing back a little) 
 
 Not so loud, not so loud. We are not in the forest 
 
 where you can kill rich merchants and get away with 
 
 it. There are people here. 
 SAVVA (lowering his voice) 
 
 Well, tell me all about it. Come on.
 
 138 SAVVA [act iv 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 What's the use of going away? I can tell you 
 everything right here. I have no secrets. It 's you 
 who have secrets. I am all here. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 You '11 lie if you tell it here. 
 KONDRATY {heatedly, with tears) 
 
 Shame, Mr. Tropinin ! Shame! Shame! Why do 
 
 you insult me? Is it because you saw me lying in 
 
 the puddle ? It 's a sin, a shame ! 
 SAVVA {perplexed) 
 
 What's the matter with you? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Do you think I am going to lie on a day like this? 
 Miss Olympiada, you at least ought to know — 
 Good God! Good God! Why, Christ has just 
 arisen! Do you understand? 
 
 [The crowd increases. Some cast glances at the 
 group with the two monks before they pass on. 
 
 LiPA {excitedly) 
 
 Father Kondraty — 
 
 KONDRATY {heating his breast) 
 
 Do you understand? I have lived all my life like a 
 scoundrel, so why, why did God do this with me? 
 Do you understand. Miss Olympiada? Do you un- 
 derstand ? Eh ? 
 
 SAVVA {perplexed) 
 
 Talk sense. Stop blubbering. 
 
 KONDRATY {waving his hand) 
 
 I am not angry with you. I bear you no grudge. 
 Who are you that I should bear any resentment 
 against you?
 
 ACT IV ] SAVVA l.-^O 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Talk sense. 
 
 KONDBATY 
 
 I 'U tell Miss Oljmpiada. I won't speak to you. 
 You knew me as a drunkard, Miss Olympiada, a 
 mean, worthless creature. Now listen. (To Speraiv- 
 sky) And you, young man, may listen also. It 
 will teach you a lesson. It will show you how God 
 works His will unseen. 
 
 LIPA 
 
 I see, Father Kondraty. Forgive me. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 God will forgive you. Who am I to forgive you.'' 
 So that 's the way it was. Miss Olympiada. I fol- 
 lowed your advice and went to the Father Superior 
 with the infernal machine. It was indeed an infernal 
 machine! And I told him everything, just the way 
 I felt, with a perfect candor and purity of heart. 
 
 SPERANSKY (guesslng) 
 
 Is that how it happened ? What a remarkable event ! 
 
 FRIAR (quietly) 
 
 Keep quiet. What are you butting in for.? 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Ye-es. The Father Superior turned pale. " You 
 scamp," he said, " do you know with whom you 
 have had dealings.^ " " I do," I said, trembling all 
 over. Well, they called together the whole brother- 
 hood and discussed the matter in secret. And then 
 the Father Superior said to me : " It 's this way, 
 Kondraty," he said. " God has chosen you as the 
 instrument of His sacred will. Yes. (Weeps) God 
 has chosen you as the instrument — "
 
 140 SAVVA [act IV 
 
 LIPA 
 
 Well? Go on. 
 
 KONDEATY 
 
 Ye-es, hm. " Go," he said, " and put down the ma- 
 chine as you were told to do, and set it going accord- 
 ing to the directions. Carry out the devil's plot in 
 full. I and the other brothers will sing a hymn 
 quietly as we carry the ikon away. Yes, that 's what 
 we '11 do. We '11 carry the ikon away. And thus 
 the devil will be made a fool of." 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Ah! 
 LIPA (astonished) 
 
 But, Father Kondraty, how can that be.'' 
 l^Savva laughs hear till/. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Patience, patience. Miss Olympiada. " And when," 
 said the Father Superior, " the devil's plot shall have 
 been carried out, then we '11 put the ikon — the dear, 
 precious ikon — back in His place." Well, I won't 
 attempt to describe the scene that took place when 
 we carried the ikon away. It 's beyond my power. 
 The brothers sobbed and wept. Not one of them 
 was able to sing. The little candles burned with tiny 
 little flames. And then when we carried Him out 
 to the gate, and when we began to think and remem- 
 bered — who is now in His sacred place — we lay 
 around the ikon, our faces on the ground, and cried 
 and wept bitter, bitter tears, tears of pity and con- 
 trition. " O Thou, our own, our precious idol, have 
 mercy on us, return to Thy place." (Lipa cries; 
 the Friar wipes his eyes with his fist) And then — 
 bang! went the machine, and the sulphurous smoke
 
 ACT iv] SAVVA 141 
 
 spread all around so that it was impossible to 
 breathe. (In a whisper) Aiid then many beheld the 
 devil in the smoke, and they were so terrified that 
 they lost consciousness. It was horrible ! And then, 
 as we carried Him back, all of one accord, as though 
 we had agreed beforehand, began to sing " Christ 
 is arisen." That 's how it happened. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 You hear, Lipa.? But what 's the matter with you.^ 
 Why are you all crying? 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 It makes one feel so sorry, Mr. Savva. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Why, they fooled you, they played a trick on you. 
 Or else you are all lying, lying with your tears. 
 \^Kondraty makes a gesture of indifference. 
 liiPA (^shaking her head, weeping) 
 
 No, Savva, you don't understand. Oh, Lord ! Oh, 
 Lord! 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 You have no God, that 's the reason you don't under- 
 stand. You have only reason, and pride, and malice. 
 That 's why you don't understand. Ah, Mr. Savva, 
 you wanted to ruin me too. And I tell you as a 
 Christian - — it would have been better if you had 
 never been born. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Oh, fiddlesticks ! Whom do you think you can hood- 
 wink? Do you think I have turned blind? 
 KOXDRATY (tuming away with a wave of his hand) 
 You can shout as much as you like. 
 
 IRIAR 
 
 Mr. Sawa, you must n't shout, you must n't. We
 
 142 SAVVA [act IV 
 
 have already attracted the attention of the crowd. 
 They are looking at us. 
 
 SAVVA {laying his hand on Kondraty's shoulder and 
 speaking in a low voice) Look here, I understand. 
 Of course, in the presence of people — but you 
 understand, don't you, Kondraty? You are a clever 
 man, a very bright man. You understand that all 
 this is nonsense. Just consider, brother, consider 
 a moment. Didn't they carry the ikon away.? 
 Then where is the miracle? 
 
 KONDRATY {twistiug himself free from Savva's grasp, 
 shaking his head and speaking aloud) Then you 
 don't understand.'' No, you don't understand. What 
 of it.? 
 
 SAVVA (in a whisper) 
 
 Listen, remember our talk. 
 
 KONDRATY (aloud) 
 
 Don't whisper to me. I have nothing to hide from 
 anybody. How do you think miracles happen any- 
 how.? Say, you are a smart man too, and yet you 
 can't comprehend a simple matter like this. Why, 
 it's all your work, all your doing, isn't it? You 
 gave me the machine. You planned the explosion. 
 Your orders have been carried out. And yet the 
 ikon is untouched ; it 's whole. That 's all I have 
 to say. It 's the plain, simple statement of fact. 
 Yet you come here with your arguments and try to 
 get away from those facts by mere reasoning. 
 LiPA (looking around in a paroxysm of excitement) 
 How simple it is ! And how terrible ! O Lord, O 
 Lord! And to think that it was I who did it, I, 
 with my own hands ! O my God! (She falls on her 
 knees, turning her eyes toward heaven)
 
 ACT iv] SAVVA U.'i 
 
 SAVVA {looking at her saxmgeltj, then at Koiulraty) 
 
 Well ! 
 KONDRATY {drawing hack in fright) 
 
 Why are you staying here? Why haven't you left 
 
 already? 
 SAVVA ( shouting ) 
 
 What a fool you are ! 
 
 KONDRATY (puUng) 
 
 Lower, lower, I say. Don't talk like that, or I '11 
 shout. 
 
 SAVVA {turning quickly toward Speransky') 
 
 What are you staring at with your mouth wide 
 open? You are a philosopher. You, you are a 
 philosopher. Can you understand the stupidity of 
 these people? They think it 's a miracle. {Laughs) 
 They think it 's a miracle. 
 
 SPERANSKY {stepping hack) 
 
 Excuse me, Mr. Tropinin, but from their point of 
 
 view — I don't know. 
 
 « 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 You don't know? 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Who does know? {Cries out, in despair) The dead 
 alone, Mr. Savva, the dead alone. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Ah ! You are cornered — Antichrist ! 
 LiPA {in terror) 
 Antichrist? 
 
 [^Hearing the cry, the two pilgrims who were with 
 Kondraty approach. They are gradually joined hy 
 others, among whom is tJie Man in Peasant Overcoat. 
 
 FIRST PILGRIM 
 
 What is it, father? Has he revealed himself?
 
 144 SAVVA [act IV 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Look at him, look at him ! 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Vassya, you dear, fine boy — Vassya, what is the 
 matter with them? Hear what they are saying. 
 Hear the nonsense they are talking. You good, 
 nice boy ! 
 FRIAR {drawing hack) 
 
 Mr. Savva, don't, don't. Go away from here. Leave 
 this place. 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Vassya, Vassya, you, you — 
 FRIAR (crying) 
 
 But I don't know. I don't know anything. I am 
 
 afraid. 
 riPA {ecstatically) 
 
 Antichrist ! Antichrist ! 
 
 SECOND PILGRIM 
 
 Hear ! Hear ! 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Ah ! You are cornered. Here is your money — 
 take it! It has burned holes in my pockets, your 
 accursed money. Here, take it, take it, you brood 
 of Antichrist! {Throws the money at him) 
 SAVVA {raising his fist as if to deal a blow) I '11 teach 
 you — 
 
 FIRST PILGRIM 
 
 Boys, don't be afraid. Here boys, here! 
 SAVVA {pressing his head between his hands) 
 Oh, it hurts, it hurts ! Darkness is closing in. 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 It's beginning to get you, is it? That's right, 
 that 's right.
 
 ACT iv] SAVVA 1 15 
 
 LI PA 
 
 Antichrist ! 
 
 TONY {shouting) 
 Sawa, Sav^'a ! 
 
 SAVVA (sinking for a moment into profound, terrible 
 meditation; then lie straightens himself suddenly 
 and seems to grow in stature; he cries out mth a 
 wild joy as if speaking above the heads of all to 
 reach somebody far off) I am right! Therefore I 
 am right! It was all necessary! All! All! {He 
 stands as if petrified in an upward-striving posture) 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Boys, it 's he who did it. That 's the fellow. 
 
 MAN IN OVERCOAT {pusMng Mm Self forward, offi- 
 ciously) What's the matter, boys? Aha! He is 
 caught! Which one? This one? Come on with 
 you! {Takes hold of Sawa by the sleeve) 
 
 SAVVA {shaking him off with such violence that the 
 man falls down) Get away from me! 
 
 VOICES 
 
 Don't let him go! 
 
 KONDRATY 
 
 Hold him! 
 FRIAR {crying) 
 
 Run, Mr. Sawa, run. 
 
 ^During the following scene Lipa prays. Speransky 
 looks on with keen curiosity, while Tony stares over 
 his shoulder. All the voices become blended into one 
 raging, frightened, savage roar. 
 
 CROWD 
 
 Get at him from that side ! Yes, go yourself ! You 
 have a stick ! Oh, hang it, there is n't a single stone 
 around ! Hold him, hold him, he '11 escape !
 
 146 SAVVA [act IV 
 
 MAN IN OVERCOAT (getting to his feet again and assum- 
 ing the leadership) Surround him, boys, surround 
 him ! Block the way to the river ! Don't let him run 
 away ! Well, now, get a move on you ! 
 
 CROWD 
 
 Go yourself — I 've tried once ! Push that way ! 
 
 Get hold of him ! Grab him ! Aha ! 
 KONDRATY (shouting at the top of his voice) 
 
 Beat him ! Beat the Antichrist ! Beat him ! 
 SAVVA {the danger brings him back to his senses. He 
 
 looks around, takes in the path to the river with a 
 
 quick glance, and gray as dust with rage, he makes 
 
 for it with a single abrupt movement) Get out of 
 
 the way, you monsters ! 
 
 CROWD 
 
 He is getting away ! He is getting away ! Hold 
 him ! Boys, he is getting away ! He is getting 
 away ! 
 
 \^As Savva advances, the crowd falls back in a semi- 
 circle, tumbling against one another. Kondraty be- 
 gins to make the sign of the cross at Savva and con- 
 tinues to do so throughout the remaining scene. 
 SAVVA {advancing) 
 
 Get out of the way ! Get out of the way ! So you 're 
 scared now, you dogs? You 've pulled in your tails? 
 Get out of the way ! Go on ! 
 
 CROWD 
 
 He is getting away. 
 
 [King Herod issues from the crowd, and plants him- 
 self in front of Savva so as to obstruct his way. 
 There is a terrible look on his face, Savva comes 
 up close to him and stops.
 
 ACT iv] SAVVA 147 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Well? 
 
 \^A brief pause. The conversation is carried on in 
 
 a sort of undertone, almost calmly. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Is that you? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Is that you ? Let me go. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 A man? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Yes, let me go. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Did you want the Saviour? Christ.? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 They fooled you. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 People may fool, Christ never. What 's your name? 
 
 SAVVA 
 
 Savva. Get out of my way, I tell you. 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Surrender Thy servant Savva. Hold ! 
 [He strikes a heavy, swinging hloxv with his left fist 
 whence Sawa did not expect an attack. Savva sinks 
 on one knee. The crowd rushes at him and tramples 
 him down. 
 
 CROWD 
 
 Beat him! Aha! So! He is turning back! Beat 
 him ! 
 
 FRIAR 
 
 What does this mean? Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! {He clutches 
 his head with both hands, cries, and runs away)
 
 148 SAVVA [act iv 
 
 SAVVA {fightmg desperateli/, he appears for a moment 
 looking fierce and terrible) Let go — Ho-o-o ! 
 {He sinks back again) 
 
 CROWD 
 
 That 's the way. One, two — Ah ! Strike ! Got 
 him? Not yet! Got him? What are you waiting 
 for? Strike! Done! 
 
 A VOICE 
 
 He 's still moving. 
 
 CROWD 
 
 Strike ! 
 
 MAN IN OVERCOAT 
 
 Peter, got a knife? Finish him with your knife. Cut 
 his throat. 
 
 PETER 
 
 No, I 'd rather do it with my heel. One ! Two ! 
 KONDRATY (cursing him) 
 
 Lord Jesus Christ ! Lord Jesus Christ ! 
 
 [Loud cries are heard from the backgroimd: 
 
 " The J/ are carrying Him! They are carrying 
 
 Him! " The mob begins to disperse and thins out 
 
 quickly. 
 
 CROWD 
 
 They are carrying Him I Yes, it 's enough. It 's 
 done. No, let me at him — once more. There ! I 
 gave him one good one in his face. They are carry- 
 ing Him ! They are carrying Him ! 
 
 KING HEROD 
 
 Enough, enough. A grand feast for you, you 
 accursed beasts ! 
 
 CROWD 
 
 I tell you, they are carrying Him ! Lie there, you ! 
 Oh my, am I going to be late? Enough now. Are
 
 ACT iv] SAVVA 149 
 
 you sorry for him, eh? Is it your head? One more! 
 Come on ! 
 
 \T}iey run away so that Sawa^s mangled body he- 
 comes visible. 
 
 MAN IN OVKRCOAT 
 
 It ought to be taken away from here. It is n't right 
 to leave it here on the road. It 's dirty. Boys ! 
 Say, boys ! 
 
 [He goes off following the rest, hut is met by the 
 procession pouring in upon the stage. There is a 
 great din and humming of talk. Speransky and 
 Tony approach the body cautiously, bend over it on 
 their knees, one on each side, and stare at it eagerly. 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 Dead ! His eyes are gone. 
 
 TONY 
 
 Shut up! {He bursts into a groaning laugh, press- 
 ing his hands hard to his mouth) 
 
 SPERANSKY 
 
 But his face is calm. Look, Mr. Anthony. It 's 
 because now he knows the truth. 
 
 TONY 
 
 Shut up! (Bursts out laughing) What a funny 
 face he has ! 
 
 l^He laughs behind his hand. Then his laugh bursts 
 through his fingers, so to speak, grows in intensity, 
 becomes irresistible, and passes into a whine. The 
 crowd begins to fill the stage, concealing the body, 
 Speransky, and Tony. The bells are rung in the 
 monastery as at Easter, and at the same time the 
 singing of thousands of voices is heard. 
 
 CROWD 
 
 " Christ is risen from the dead. He has conquered
 
 150 SAVVA [act IV 
 
 death with death and given life to those lain in their 
 graves. Christ — " 
 
 LiPA (flinging herself into the crowd) 
 " Christ is risen ! " 
 
 [The crowd continues to pour in, filling the entire 
 stage. Gaping mouths and round, wide-open eyes 
 are seen everywhere. Shrill shrieks are uttered by 
 the crazed epileptics. A momentary outcry is heard: 
 " Somebody crushed ! " Tony's laughter dies away 
 somewhere. The triumphant hymn rises, spreads, 
 passes into a titanic roar that drowns every other 
 sound. The bells continue to ring. 
 
 CROWD {shouting at their utmost power) 
 
 " Christ is risen from the dead. He has conquered 
 death with death and given life to those lain in their 
 graves. Christ is risen — " 
 
 CUETAIN
 
 THE LIFE OF MAN 
 
 (Zhizn Chelovieka) 
 A PLAY IN FIVE SCENES WITH A PROLOGUE 
 
 1906
 
 TO THE BRIGHT MEMORY OP MY FRIEND, MY WIFE 
 I DEDICATE THIS COMPOSITION 
 
 THE LAST 
 
 ON WHICH WE WORKED TOGETHER
 
 PERSONS 
 
 Man's 
 
 Someone in Geay called He 
 Man 
 
 His Wife 
 /•Father 
 Relatives 
 Neighboes 
 Friends 
 Enemies 
 Guests 
 .Servants 
 Musicians 
 Physicians 
 A Bartender 
 Drunkards 
 Old Women 
 
 Prologue — Someone in Gray called He, speaking of 
 the Life of Man 
 
 Scene I — The Birth of Man and the Mother's Travail 
 
 Scene II — Love and Poverty 
 
 Scene III — Wealth. Man's Ball 
 
 Scene IV — Man's Misfortune 
 
 Scene V — The Death of Man
 
 THE LIFE OF MAN 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 SOMEONE IN GRAY CALLED HE, SPEAKING 
 OF THE LIFE OF MAN 
 
 A large, rectangular space resembling a room with- 
 out doors or windows and quite empty. Everything 
 is gray, monocolored, drab — the walls gray, and the 
 ceiling, and the floor. A feeble, even light enters from 
 some invisible source. It too is gray, monotonous, 
 spectral, producing neither lights nor shadows. 
 
 Someone in Gray moves noiselessly away from the 
 wall, close against which He has been standing. He 
 wears a broad, gray, formless smock, vaguely outlining 
 the contours of His body; and a hat of the same gray 
 throws the upper part of His face into heavy shadow. 
 His eyes are invisible. All that is seen are His cheek- 
 bones. His nose, and His chin, which is massive, heavy, 
 and blunt, as if hewn out of rock. His lips are pressed 
 tight together. Raising His head slightly. He begins 
 to speak in a firm, cold, unemotional, unimpassioned 
 voice, like a reader hired by the hour reading the Book 
 of Fate with brutal indifference. 
 
 SOMEONE IN GRAY 
 
 Look and listen, you who have come here to laugh 
 and be amused. There will pass before you the whole
 
 156 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene i 
 
 life of Man, from his dark beginning to his dark end- 
 ing. Previously non-existant, mysteriously hidden in 
 the infiniteness of time, neither feeling nor thinking, 
 and known to no one, he will mysteriously break 
 through the prison of non-being and with a cry an- 
 nounce the beginning of his brief life. In the night of 
 non-existence a light will go up, kindled by an unseen 
 hand. It is the life of Man. Behold the flame — it is 
 the life of Man. 
 
 Being born, he will take the form and the name of 
 Man, and in all things will become like other men al- 
 ready living. And their hard lot will be his lot, and 
 his hard lot will be the lot of all human beings. In- 
 exorably impelled by time, he will, with inavertible 
 necessity, pass through all the stages of human life, 
 from the bottom to the top, from the top to the bottom. 
 Limited in vision, he will never see the next step which 
 his unsteady foot, poised in the air, is in the very act 
 of taking. Limited in knowledge, he will never know 
 what the coming day will bring, or the coming hour, 
 or the coming minute. In his unseeing blindness, 
 troubled by premonitions, agitated by hope and fear, 
 he will submissively complete the iron-traced circle 
 foreordained. 
 
 Behold him a happy youth. See how brightly the 
 candle burns. From boundless stretches of space the 
 icy wind blows, circling, careering, and tossing the 
 flame. In vain. Bright and clear the candle bums. 
 Yet the wax is dwindling, consumed by the fire. Yet 
 the wax is dwindling. 
 
 Behold him a happy husband and father. But see 
 how strangely dim and faint the candle burns, as if 
 the yellowing flame were wrinkling, as if it were shiver-
 
 SCENE i] THE LIFE OF MAN 157 
 
 ing with cold and were creeping into concealment. The 
 wax is melting, consumed by the fire. The wax is 
 melting. 
 
 Behold him an old man, ill and feeble. The stages 
 of life are already ended. In their stead nothing but 
 a black void. Yet he drags on with palsied limbs. 
 The flame, now turned blue, bends to the ground and 
 crawls along, trembling and falling, trembling and 
 falling. Then it goes out quietly. 
 
 Thus Man will die. Coming from the night, he will 
 return to the night and go out, leaving no trace behind. 
 He will pass into the infinity of time, neither thinking 
 nor feeling, and known to no one. And I, whom all 
 call He, shall remain the faithful companion of Man 
 throughout his life, on all his pathways. Unseen by 
 him, I shall be constantly at hand when he wakes and 
 when he sleeps, when he prays and when he curses. 
 In his hours of joy, when his spirit, free and bold, 
 rises aloft ; in his hours of grief and despair, when his 
 soul clouds over with mortal pain and sorrow, and 
 the blood congeals in his heart; in the hours of victory 
 and defeat; in the hours of great strife with the im- 
 mutable, I shall be with him — I shall be with him. 
 And you who have come here to be amused, you who 
 are consecrated to death, look and listen. There will 
 pass before you, like a distant phantom echo, the 
 fleet-moving life of Man with its sorrows and its joys. 
 [Someone in Gray turns silent. The light goes out, 
 and He and the gray, empty room are enveloped in 
 darkiiess.
 
 THE FIRST SCENE 
 
 THE BIRTH OF MAN AND THE 
 MOTHER'S TRAVAIL 
 
 Profound darkness; not a stir. Like a swarm of 
 mice in hiding, the gray silhouettes of Old Women vn, 
 strange headgear are dvmly discerned; also vaguely 
 the outline of a large, lofty room. The Old Women 
 carry on a conversation in low, mocking voices. 
 
 OLD women's conversation 
 
 — I wonder whether it '11 be a boy or a girl. 
 
 — What difference does it make to you? 
 
 — I like boys. 
 
 — I like girls. They always sit at home waiting till 
 you call on them. 
 
 — Do you like to go visiting? 
 [The Old Women titter. 
 
 — He knows. 
 
 — He knows. (Silence) 
 
 — Our friend would like to have a girl. She says 
 boys are so restless and venturesome and are always 
 seeking danger. Even when they are little, they like 
 to climb tall trees and bathe in deep water. They 
 often fall, and they drown. And when they get to 
 be men, they make wars and kill one another. 
 
 — She thinks girls don't drown. I have seen many 
 girls drowned. They look like all drowned people, 
 wet and green.
 
 SCENE i] THE LIFE OF MAN 159 
 
 — She thinks girls don't get killed by stones thrown 
 at them. 
 
 — Poor woman, she has such a hard time giving birth 
 to her child. We have been sitting here sixteen 
 hours, and she is still crying. At first she cried out 
 loud. Her screams pierced our ears. Then she 
 cried more quietly, and now she is only moaning. 
 
 — The doctor says she '11 die. 
 
 — No, the doctor says the child will die and she will 
 live. 
 
 — Why do they bear children? It is so painful. 
 
 — And why do they die? It is still more painful. 
 \^The Old Women laugh suppressedly. 
 
 — Yes, they bear children and die, 
 
 — And bear children again. 
 
 [They laugh. A subdued cry of the suffering woman 
 is heard. 
 
 — Beginning again. 
 
 — She 's recovered her voice. That 's good. 
 
 — That 's good. 
 
 — Poor husband. He 's lost his head completely. 
 You ought to see him. He 's a sight. At first he was 
 glad his wife was pregnant and said he wanted a boy. 
 He thinks his son will be a cabinet minister or a 
 general. Now he does n't want anything, neither a 
 boy nor a girl. He just goes about grieving and 
 crying. 
 
 — Every time she is seized with pain he begins to 
 labor, too, and gets red in the face. 
 
 — He was sent to the chemist's shop for medicine, 
 and he hung about there for two hours without being 
 able to remember what he was sent for. He returned 
 without it.
 
 160 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene i 
 
 [The Old Women titter. The cries grow louder and 
 die away. Silence. 
 
 • — What's the matter with her? Maybe she has 
 died already. 
 
 — No. If she had, we 'd hear crying, and the doc- 
 tor would come running and begin to talk nonsense. 
 They 'd bring her husband out in a faint, and we 'd 
 have to work over him. No, she 's not dead. 
 
 — Then what are we sitting here ior? 
 
 — Ask Him. What do we know.^* 
 
 — He won't tell. 
 
 • — He won't tell. He never tells anything. 
 
 — He orders us about as he pleases, gets us out of 
 bed, and makes us watch; and then it turns out 
 that our coming was n't even needed. 
 
 — We came of our own accord, didn't we? We 
 must tell the truth. There, she 's screaming again. 
 
 — Have n't you had as much of it as you want? 
 
 — Are you satisfied? 
 
 — I keep my mouth shut and wait. 
 
 — You 're an angel. 
 
 [They laugh. The cries grow louder. 
 
 — Listen to her. What fearful pain she must be 
 suffering. Have you an idea of what the pain is like? 
 It 's as if your insides were being torn to pieces. 
 
 — We all have borne children. 
 
 — It's just as if she were not herself. I don't 
 recognize our friend's voice. It 's naturally so soft 
 and gentle. 
 
 — Her screaming is more like the roar of a wild 
 beast. 
 
 — You feel the night in it.
 
 SCENE i] THE LIFE OF MAN 161 
 
 — You feel the boundless black forest and hopeless- 
 ness and terror. 
 
 — You feel solitude and grief. There are other 
 people with her. Why can't you hear other voices 
 beside that savage, dismal wail? 
 
 — They are talking, but you can't hear them. Have 
 you ever noticed how solitary man's cries are? Any 
 number of men will talk, and you won't hear them. 
 But let one human being cry, and it seems as if 
 the others were all silent, listening. 
 
 — I once heard a man scream who had been run over 
 by a carriage and had his leg crushed. The street 
 was full of people. Yet he seemed to be the only 
 one there. 
 
 — But this is more terrible. 
 
 — Say rather it is louder. 
 
 — I should say it is more prolonged. 
 
 — No, it 's more terrible. You feel death in it. 
 
 — You had a feeling of death then, too. In fact, 
 the man did die. 
 
 — Don't dispute. It 's all the same to you. 
 l^Silence. Cries. 
 
 — How strange man's crying is ! When you your- 
 self are ill and cry, you don't notice how strange it 
 is. I can't imagine the mouth that produces such 
 sounds. Can it be a woman's mouth? I can't 
 imagine it. 
 
 — It 's as if it got twisted and crooked. 
 
 — As if the sound issued from some depth. Now 
 it 's like the cry of someone drowning. Listen, she 's 
 choking. 
 
 — A heavy person is sitting on her chest. 
 -- =- Someone is choking her.
 
 162 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene i 
 
 [The crying ceases. 
 
 — At last she has quieted down. You get tired of 
 crying. It 's monotonous and not beautiful. 
 
 — You 're looking for beauty here too, are you? 
 [The Old Women titter. 
 
 — Hush ! Is He here.-^ 
 
 — I don't know. 
 
 — He seems to be. 
 
 — He does n't like laughing. 
 
 — They say He laughs Himself. 
 
 — Whoever heard Him laugh.? You are simply re- 
 peating hearsay. So many lies are told about Him. 
 
 — He hears us. Let us be serious. 
 [They laugh quietly. 
 
 — After all, I 'd like to know whether it '11 be a boy 
 
 or a girl. 
 
 — I admit, it 's interesting to know whom you '11 
 
 have to deal with. 
 
 — I wish it died before it was bom. 
 
 — What a kind creature you are. 
 
 — No better than you. 
 
 — I hope it turns out to be a general. 
 [They laugh. 
 
 — You are too merry. I don't like it. 
 
 — And you are too sad. I don't like that. 
 
 — Don't wrangle. Don't wrangle. We are all both 
 sad and merry. Let each be what she pleases. 
 (^Silence) 
 
 — When they are born, they are so funny. Babies 
 are very funny. 
 
 — And self-satisfied. 
 
 — And very exacting. I don't like them. They be- 
 gin to cry at once and make demands, as if they
 
 SCENE i] THE LIFE OF MAN 163 
 
 expected everything to be ready for them. Even 
 before looking, they know there is a breast and milk, 
 and demand them. Then they demand to be put to 
 sleep and rocked and dandled and patted on their 
 red backs. I like them better when they die. Then 
 thev 're less exacting. They stretch out of them- 
 selves and don't ask to be rocked. 
 
 — No, they are very funny. I like to wash them 
 when they are born. 
 
 — I like to wash them when they are dead. 
 
 — Don't dispute. Don't dispute. Each will have her 
 way. One will wash the child when it is born, an- 
 other when it dies. 
 
 — But why do they think they have a right to make 
 demands the moment they are born? I don't like it. 
 They don't tldnk they have. It 's their stomachs 
 that make the demands. 
 
 — They 're forever demanding. 
 
 — But their demands are never granted. 
 
 [^The Old Women laugh. The cries begin again. 
 
 — She is screaming again. 
 
 — Animals give birth to their offspring more easily. 
 
 — And they die more easily, and live more easily. I 
 have a cat. You ought to see how fat and happy 
 she is. 
 
 ■ — I have a dog, and I tell him every day : " You are 
 going to die." His only reply is to show his teeth 
 and to wag his tail gayly. 
 
 — But they are animals. 
 
 — And these are human beings. 
 [Thet/ laugh. 
 
 — Now she '11 either die or be delivered. I feel that 
 the whole remnant of her strength is in that wail.
 
 164 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene i 
 
 — Eyes wide open. 
 
 — Cold perspiration on her forehead. 
 [They listen. 
 
 — She is giving birth to the child. 
 
 — No, she is dying, 
 [The cries cease. 
 
 — I tell you — 
 
 SOMEONE IN GEAY {spcuks in fl Tcsonant, powerful voice) 
 Silence ! Man is born. 
 
 [Almost simultaneously with His announcement the 
 crying of an infant is heard and the candle in His 
 hand lights. A tall candle. It hums hesitatingly 
 and feebly. Gradually the flame grows stronger. 
 The corner in which Someone in Gray stands motion/- 
 less is always darker than the other corners, and the 
 yellow flame illumines His blunt chin. His tightly 
 closed lips, and His massive, bony face. The upper 
 part of His face is concealed by His cap. He is 
 somewhat taller than an ordinary man. 
 He puts the long, thick candle in an antique candle- 
 stick. His hand comes vnto relief against the green 
 bronze. It is gray, firm, with long, thin fingers. 
 Gradually the room grows brighter. The figures of 
 five hunch-backed Old Women emerge from the 
 gloom, and the room becomes visible. It is rectangu- 
 lar, with high, smooth, monotonously colored walls. 
 Two curtainless windows in the background and two 
 on the right. The night glooms through them. 
 Straight, high-backed chairs against the walls, 
 
 THE OLD WOMEN (talking rapidly) 
 
 — Hear them running about. They 're coming here. 
 
 — How bright it is ! Let 's go. 
 
 — Look, the candle is tall and bright.
 
 SCENE i] THE LIFE OF MAN 165 
 
 — Let 's go, let 's go. Quick ! 
 
 — But we '11 come back. We '11 come back. 
 \^Thei/ laugh quietly, mockingly, and disappear into 
 the dusk with odd, zigzagging movements. As they 
 leave, the light groxvs brighter, but still it remains 
 dim, lifeless, and cold. The corner in which Someone 
 in Gray stands motionless with the burning candle is 
 darker than the others. 
 
 Enter the Doctor in a white uniform, and Man's 
 Father, whose face wears an expression of extreme 
 exhaustion and joy. There are lines under his eyes; 
 his cheeks are sunken and his hair is dishevelled; he 
 is very negligently dressed. The Doctor looks very 
 learned. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Up to the very last moment I did n't know whether 
 your wife would pull through or not. I used all the 
 means at the disposal of medical skill and science. 
 But science can do very little unless nature helps 
 too. I was reall}' excited. My pulse is still going 
 hard. Though I have assisted at so many births, 
 yet I can't rid myself of a sense of uneasiness. But 
 you are not listening to me, sir. 
 man's father 
 
 I 'm listening, but I can't hear. Her screams are 
 still ringing in my ears, and it 's hard for me to pull 
 myself together. Poor woman, how she suffered! 
 I was a fool, I was stupid and wanted to have chil- 
 dren. But hereafter I will renounce. It is criminal. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 You will call me again when your next child comes. 
 
 FATHER 
 
 No, never. I 'm ashamed to admit it, but just now
 
 166 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene i 
 
 I hate the child for which she suffered so. I did n't 
 even see him. What sort of a boy is he? 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 He 's a well-fed, strong little youngster, and if I 'm 
 not mistaken he resembles you. 
 
 FATHER 
 
 Me? Fine! Now I'm beginning to love him. I 
 always wanted a boy to look like me. Did you see 
 — his nose is like mine, isn't it.f* 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Yes, his nose and eyes. 
 
 FATHER 
 
 His eyes too ? Ah, that 's good. I '11 raise your fee. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 You '11 have to pay me for using the instruments 
 also. 
 FATHER {turning to the corner where He stands mo- 
 tionless) God, I thank Thee for having granted 
 my wish and given me a son who resembles me. I 
 thank Thee for preserving my wife from death and 
 bringing my child into the world alive. I pray Thee 
 that he may grow up big, healthy, and strong; that 
 he may be wise and honest, and that he may never 
 cause us grief, but be a constant joy to his mother 
 and me. If Thou wilt do this, I will always believe 
 in Thee and go to church. 
 
 [Enter Relatives, six in number. An elderly woman, 
 uncommonly stout, with a double chin and small, 
 proud eyes and an air of extreme haughtiness and 
 self-importance. An elderly man, her husband, very 
 tall and uncommonly thin, so that his coat hangs 
 loosely on his body; a short goatee, long, smooth 
 hair, as if wet, reaching to his shoulders; eye-
 
 SCENE i] THE LIFE OF MAN 167 
 
 glasses; has a frightened yet pedantic expression; 
 a low black silk hat in his hand. A young girl, their 
 daughter, with naively upturned nose, blinking eyes, 
 and open mouth. A weazened woman, with con- 
 tracted features and a sour expression, in her hand 
 a handkerchief, with which she frequently wipes her 
 mouth. Two young men, looking absolutely alike, 
 with extremely high collars that stretch their necks; 
 glossy hair; a hesitating, embarrassed expression. 
 The characteristics of each of the Relatives is ex- 
 aggerated in the extreme. 
 
 ELDERLY LADY 
 
 Let me congratulate you on the birth of your son, 
 dear brother. (Kisses him) 
 
 ELDERLY MAN 
 
 My dear brother, I heartily congratulate you on 
 the birth of your son, to which you have been looking 
 forward so long. (Kisses him) 
 
 THE REST 
 
 We congratulate you, dear uncle, on the birth of 
 your son. 
 
 [^They kiss him. Exit the Doctor. 
 man's father (greatly moved) 
 
 Thank you ! Thank you ! You are all very good, 
 very nice, dear people, and I love you very much. 
 I had my doubts before, and thought that you, dear 
 sister, were a little too much rapt up in yourself 
 and your own worth and importance ; and that you, 
 dear brother, were somewhat too pedantic. The rest 
 of you I thought were too cold to me, and came 
 here only for the sake of the dinners. Now I see I 
 was mistaken. I 'm very happy. I get a son who 
 resembles me, and then all at once I see myself
 
 168 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene i 
 
 surrounded by so many good people who love me. 
 {They kiss) 
 
 GIRL 
 
 Uncle dear, what are you going to call your son? I 
 hope you '11 give him a lovely, poetic name. So 
 much depends on a man's name. 
 
 ELDERLY LADY 
 
 I should advise a simple, solid name. Men with nice 
 names are usually frivolous and rarely successful. 
 
 ELDERLY MAN 
 
 It seems to me, brother, you should name your son 
 after some older relative. Keeping the same names 
 in the family tends to preserve and strengthen the 
 line. 
 
 FATHER 
 
 Yes, my wife and I have already discussed the sub- 
 ject, but have not been able to reach a decision. 
 You see, there are so many new things to think of 
 when a child comes, so many new problems to solve 
 which never arose before. 
 
 ELDERLY LADY 
 
 It fills up your life. 
 
 ELDERLY MAN 
 
 It gives life a beautiful purpose. By properly edu- 
 cating a child, preventing it from making the 
 mistakes which we had to pay for so dearly, and 
 strengthening its mind with our own rich experiences, 
 we produce a better man and advance slowly but 
 surely toward the final goal of existence, which is 
 perfection. 
 
 FATHER 
 
 You are quite right, brother. When I was little I 
 loved to torture animals. That developed cruelty
 
 SCENE i] THE LIFE OF MAN 169 
 
 in me. I won't allow my son to torture animals. 
 Even after I had grown up I often made mistakes 
 in my friendships and love. I chose friends who 
 were unworthy and women who were faithless. I '11 
 explain to my son — 
 DOCTOR (enters and says aloud) 
 
 Your wife is feeling very bad. She wants to see you. 
 
 FATHEE 
 
 Oh, my God! (He and the Doctor leave) 
 [The Relatives seat themselves in a semicircle. Sol- 
 emn silenof for a time. Someone in Gray stands 
 motionless in the corner. His stony face turned 
 toward them. 
 relatives' conversation 
 
 — Do you think, dear, she may dicf* 
 
 — No, I don't think so. She is a very impatient 
 woman and makes too much of her pains. All women 
 bear children and none of them die. I have borne six 
 children. 
 
 — But the way she screamed, mamma.'' 
 
 — Yes, her face was purple from screaming. I 
 noticed it. 
 
 — Not from screaming, but from laboring. You 
 don't understand about these things. My face got 
 purple too, but I did n't scream. 
 
 — Not long ago an acquaintance of mine, the civil 
 engineer's wife, gave birth to a child, and she scarcely 
 made a sound. 
 
 — I know. There 's no need for my brother to be so 
 upset. One must be firm and take things calmly. 
 And I 'm afraid, too, he '11 introduce a lot of his 
 fantastic notions in the bringing up of his children 
 and indulge their every whim.
 
 170 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene i 
 
 — He 's a very weak character. He has little enough 
 money, and yet he lends it to people who don't 
 deserve to be trusted. 
 
 — Do you know how much the child's layette cost.'' 
 
 — Don't talk to me of it! It gets on my nerves, my 
 brother's extravagance does. I often quarrel with 
 him because he 's so improvident. 
 
 — They say a stork brings babies. What sort of a 
 stork is it.f* 
 
 [^The young men hurst out laughing. 
 
 ■ — Don't talk nonsense. I gave birth to five children 
 
 right in your presence, and I 'm no stork, thank the 
 
 Lord. 
 
 [The young men burst our laughing agavn. The 
 
 Elderly Woman eyes them long and sternly. 
 
 — It 's only a superstition. Children are born in an 
 absolutely natural way, firmly established by science. 
 They 've moved to new quarters now. 
 
 — Who? 
 
 — The engineer and his wife. Their old place was 
 chilly and damp. They complained to the landlord 
 several times, but he paid no attention. 
 
 — I think it 's better to live in a small place that 's 
 warm than in a large place that 's damp. You are 
 liable to catch your death of cold and rheumatism 
 if you live in a damp house. 
 
 — I have a friend, too, who lives in a very damp 
 house. And I too. Very damp. 
 
 — There are so many damp places nowadays. 
 
 — Tell me, please — I 've been wanting to ask you a 
 long time — how do you remove a grease stain from 
 light-colored material.'' 
 
 — Woollen .''
 
 SCENE i] THE LIFE OF MAN 171 
 
 — No, silk. 
 
 [^The child's criming is heard behind the scene. 
 
 — Take a piece of ice and rub it on the spot hard. 
 Then take a hot iron and })rcss the spot. 
 
 — No .'' Fancy, how simple ! I heard benzine was 
 better. 
 
 — No, benzine is good for dark material. For light 
 goods ice is better. 
 
 — I wonder whether smoking is allowed here. Some- 
 how it never occurred to me before whether one may 
 or may not smoke where there is a new-born 
 baby. 
 
 — It never occurred to me either. How strange ! I 
 know it is n't proper to smoke at funerals, but 
 here — 
 
 — Nonsense ! Of course you may smoke. 
 
 — Smoking is a bad habit just the same. You are 
 still a very young man and ought to take good 
 care of your health. There are many occasions in 
 life when good health is highly essential. 
 
 — But smoking stimulates. 
 
 — Believe me, it 's a very unhealthy stimulant. 
 When I was young and reckless, I was also guilty of 
 using, or rather abusing, tobacco — 
 
 — Mamma, listen to him crying. My, how he 's cry- 
 ing! Does he want milk, mamma.'' 
 
 [The yovmg men hurst out laughing. The Elderly 
 Woman looks at them sternly. 
 
 CUETAIN
 
 THE SECOND SCENE 
 
 LOVE AND POVERTY 
 
 The entire place is filled with a warm, bright light. 
 A large, very poor room, high walls, the color of old 
 rose, covered here and there with beautiful, fantastic, 
 roughly drawn designs. To the right are two lofty 
 windows, eight panes in each, with the darkness of night 
 glooming through them. Two poor beds, two chairs, 
 and a bare table, on which stands a half -broken pitcher 
 of water and a pretty bunch of flowers. 
 
 In the darkest corner stands Someone in Gray, the 
 candle in His hand now reduced by a third, but the 
 flame still very bright, high, and white. It throws a 
 powerful light on His face and chin. 
 
 Enter the Neighbors, dressed in light, gay dresses, 
 their hands full of flowers, grasses, and fresh branches 
 of oak and birch. They run about the room, scatter- 
 ing them. Their faces are merry, simple, and good- 
 natured. 
 
 neighbors' conveksation 
 
 — How poor they are ! Look, they have n't even a 
 single spare chair. 
 
 — And no curtains in the windows. 
 
 — And no pictures on the walls. 
 
 - — How poor they are ! All they eat is hard bread.
 
 SCENE ii] THE LIFE OF MAN 173 
 
 — And all they drink is water, cold water from the 
 spring. 
 
 — They don't own any clothes at all except what 
 they have on. She always goes about in her rosy 
 dress with her neck bare, which makes her look like a 
 young girl. 
 
 — And he wears his blouse and loose necktie, which 
 makes him look like an artist, and makes the dogs 
 bark at him. 
 
 — And makes all the respectable people disapprove 
 of him. 
 
 — Dogs hate the poor. I saw three dogs attack him 
 yesterday. He beat them off with a stick and 
 shouted : " Don't you dare to touch my trousers ; 
 they're my last pair!" And he laughed, and the 
 dogs flung themselves at him and showed their teeth 
 and barked viciously. 
 
 — I saw two respectable people, a lady and a gentle- 
 man, meet him on the street to-day. They were 
 terribly frightened and crossed to the other side. 
 " He '11 ask for money," said the gentleman. " He '11 
 kill us," piped the lady. From the other side of 
 the street they looked back at him and held on to 
 their pockets. He shook his head and laughed. 
 
 — He 's such a j oily good fellow. 
 
 — They 're always laughing. 
 
 — And singing. 
 
 — It 's he who sings. She dances. 
 
 — In her rosy dress, with her little bare neck. 
 
 — It does one good to look at them. They are so 
 young and wholesome. 
 
 — I am sorry for them. They 're starving. Do you 
 understand? They're actually going without food.
 
 174 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene ii 
 
 — Yes, it 's true. They had more clothes and furni- 
 ture, but they sold every bit, and now they 've 
 nothing more to sell. 
 
 — I know. She had such pretty earrings, and she 
 sold them to buy bread. 
 
 — He had a beautiful black frock-coat, the one in 
 which he was married, and he sold that too. 
 
 — The only thing they have left is their engagement 
 rings. How poor they are! 
 
 — That 's nothing. I was once young myself, and I 
 know what it is. 
 
 — What did you say, grandpa.'' 
 
 — I said it 's nothing, nothing at all. 
 
 — Look, the mere thought of them makes grandpa 
 want to sing. 
 
 — And dance. 
 [Thei/ laugh. 
 
 — He is so kind. He made my boy a bow and arrow. 
 
 — She cried with me when my daughter was ill. 
 
 — He helped me mend the rickety fence. He 's 
 strong. 
 
 — It 's nice to have such good neighbors. Their 
 youth warms our cold old age. Their j olliness drives 
 away our cares. 
 
 — But their room is like a prison, it 's so empty. 
 
 — No, it 's like a temple. It 's so bright. 
 
 — Look, they have flowers on the table, the flowers 
 she picked on her walk in the country in her rosy 
 dress with her little bare neck. Here are lilies-of- 
 the-valley. The dew has n't dried on them yet. 
 
 — There is the burning campion. 
 
 — And violets. 
 
 — Don't touch, don't touch the flowers, girls. Her
 
 SCENE ii] THE LIFE OF MAN 175 
 
 kisses are upon them. Don't throw them on the 
 floor, girls. Her breath is upon them. Don't blow 
 them away with your breath. Don't touch, don't 
 touch the flowers, girls. 
 
 — He '11 come and he '11 see the flowers. 
 
 — He '11 take the kisses. 
 
 — He '11 drink her breath. 
 
 — How poor they are ! How happy they are ! 
 
 — Come, let 's leave. 
 
 — Have n't we brought our dear neighbors any- 
 thing.'' 
 
 — What a shame! 
 
 — I brought a bottle of milk and a piece of white, 
 sweet-smelling bread. (Puts them on the table) 
 
 — I brought flowers. (Scatters them) 
 
 — We brought branches of oak and birch with green 
 leaves. Let 's put them up around the walls. The 
 room will look like cheerful green woods. 
 
 [Thei^ decorate the room with the branches, con- 
 cealing the dark windows and covering the pinkish 
 nakedness of the walls with leaves. 
 
 — I brought a good cigar. It is a cheap one, but it 's 
 strong and fragrant and will give pleasant dreams. 
 
 — And I brought a ribbon, a red ribbon. It makes a 
 very pretty fancy bow for the hair. It 's a present 
 my sweetheart gave me ; but I have so many ribbons 
 and she has n't even one. 
 
 — What did 2/ow bring, grandpa.'' Did you bring 
 anything.'' 
 
 — Nothing, nothing, except my cough. They don't 
 want that, do they, neighbor.'' 
 
 — No more than they want my crutches. Hey, girls, 
 who wants my crutches.''
 
 176 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene ii 
 
 — Do you remember, neighbor? 
 
 — Do you remember, neighbor? 
 
 — Come, let 's go to sleep, neighbor. It 's late al- 
 ready. {They sigh and leave, one coughing, the 
 other knocking the floor with his crutches) 
 
 — Come, come ! 
 
 — May God give them happiness. They are such 
 good neighbors. 
 
 — God grant that they may always be healthy and 
 merry and always love each other. And may the 
 hideous black cat never pass between them. 
 
 — And may the good man find work. It 's bad when 
 a man is out of work. (They leave) 
 
 [Enter immediately the Wife of Man, very pretty, 
 graceful, and delicate, wearing flowers in her luxuri- 
 ant hair which is hanging loose. The expression on 
 her face is very sad. She seats herself on a chair, 
 folds her hands in her lap, and speaks in a sad tone, 
 turned toward the audience. 
 man's wife 
 
 I 've just returned from the city, where I went look- 
 ing for I don't know what. We are so poor, we have 
 nothing, and it 's very hard for us to live. We need 
 money, and I don't know how in the world to get it. 
 People won't give it to you for the asking, and I 
 have n't the strength to take it away from them. I 
 was looking for work, but I can't get work either. 
 There are lots of people and little work, they say. 
 I looked on the ground as I walked to see if some 
 rich person had n't lost his purse, but either nobody 
 had lost one or somebody luckier than I had already 
 picked it up. I feel so sad. My husband will soon 
 come from his search for work, tired and hungry.
 
 SCENE ii] THE LIFE OF MAN 177 
 
 What am I to give him except my kisses? But jou 
 can't satisfy your hunger on kisses. I feel so sad 
 I could cry. 
 
 I can go without eating for a long time and not feel 
 it, but he can't. He has a large body which de- 
 mands food, and when he 's gone a long time without 
 it, he gets pale, sick, and excited. He scolds me 
 and then begs me not to be angry at him. I never 
 am angry at him, because I love him dearly. It only 
 makes me feel so sad. 
 
 My husband is a very talented architect. I even 
 think he 's a genius. He was left an orphan when 
 a mere boy, and after his parents' death his relatives 
 supported him for some time ; but as he was always 
 of an independent nature, sharp in his talk and 
 prone to make unpleasant remarks, and as he showed 
 them no gratitude, they dropped him. He continued 
 to study, nevertheless, supporting himself by giving 
 lessons, and so made his way through college. He 
 often went hungry, my poor husband. Now he is 
 an architect and draws plans of beautiful buildings, 
 but no one wants to buy them, and many stupid per- 
 sons make fun of them even. To make one's way in 
 the world one must have either patrons or luck. He 
 has neither. So he goes about looking for a chance, 
 and maybe with his eyes on the ground looking for 
 money like me. He is still very young and simple. 
 Of course, some day fortune will come to us, too. 
 But when will it be.'' In the meantime it 's very hard 
 to live. When we were married we had a little prop- 
 erty, but we soon spent it. We went to the theatre 
 and ate candy. He still has hopes, but I sometimes 
 lose all hope and cry to myself. My heart breaks
 
 178 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene ii 
 
 when I think he '11 be here soon and I have nothing 
 to give him again except my poor kisses. 
 
 God, be a kind, merciful Father to us. You have 
 so much of everything, bread and work and money. 
 Your earth is so rich. She grows corn and fruit in 
 her fields, covers the meadows with flowers, and 
 yields gold and beautiful precious stones from her 
 bowels. And your sun has so much warmth, and 
 your pensive stars have so much quiet joy. Give us, 
 
 1 pray you, a little from your abundance, just a 
 little, as much as you give your birds. A little 
 bread, so that my dear good husband may not be 
 hungry ; a little warmth, so that he may not be cold ; 
 and a little work, so that he may carry his beautiful 
 head erect. And please do not be angry with my 
 husband because he swears so and laughs, and even 
 sings and makes me dance. He is so young and not 
 a bit staid or serious. 
 
 Now, after I have prayed, I feel relieved and hopeful 
 again. Why, indeed, should God not grant one's 
 request when one asks Him for it so earnestly.'* I '11 
 go and hunt a little to see if somebody has n't 
 dropped a purse or a diamond. (Exit) 
 
 SOMEONE IN GRAY 
 
 She knows not that her wish has already been ful- 
 filled. She knows not that this morning two men in 
 a rich house were bending eagerly over a sketch by 
 Man and were delighted with it. They searched for 
 Man the whole day; wealth was looking for him as 
 he was looking for wealth. And to-morrow morning, 
 after the neighbors have gone to work, an automobile 
 will stop in front of this house, and two men bending 
 low will enter the poor room and bring wealth and
 
 SCENE II ] THE LIFE OF MAN 179 
 
 fame. But neither lie nor she knows it. Thus 
 fortune will come to Man, and thus also it will go. 
 l^Enter Man and his Wife. He has a beautiful proud 
 head, bright eyes, a high forehead, dark eyebrows 
 partvng at the root of the nose like two bold wings, 
 and wavy black hair carelessly tossed back. A low, 
 white, turndown collar reveals a well-formed neck 
 and part of his chest. He is light and quick in his 
 movements, like a young animal. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Nothing again. I '11 lie down and remain in bed the 
 whole day. Anyone wanting me will have to come 
 here. I can't go to him. I '11 stay in bed the whole 
 of to-morrow too. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Are you tired.'* 
 
 MAN 
 
 Yes, I 'm tired and hungry. I could eat a whole ox, 
 like the Homeric hero, but I shall have to content 
 myself with a piece of hard bread. Don't you know 
 that a man can't live all the time on bread alone.'' 
 I want to tear, bite, chew ! 
 
 WIFE 
 
 I 'm sorry for you, dear. 
 
 MAN 
 
 I 'm sorry for myself, but that does n't satisfy my 
 hunger. I stood a whole hour in front of a res- 
 taurant to-day, looking at the chickens, pastry, and 
 sausages, as people look at works of art. And then 
 the signs. They describe ham so well that you 
 could eat sign and all. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 I like ham too.
 
 ISO THE LIFE OF MAN [scene ii 
 
 MAN 
 
 Who does n't like ham? How about lobster? Do 
 you like lobster? 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Yes. 
 
 MAN 
 
 You should have seen the lobster I saw. It was a 
 painted one, but it was even more beautiful than a 
 live one. Red like a cardinal, majestic, stern. You 
 could kneel down and do homage to it. I think I 
 could eat two such cardinals and a priest of a carp 
 besides. 
 WIFE (sadly) 
 
 You did n't see my flowers, did you? 
 
 MAN 
 
 Flowers? You can't eat flowers, can you? 
 
 W^IFE 
 
 You don't love me. 
 MAN (kisses her) 
 
 Excuse me, but really I 'm so hungry. Look, my 
 
 hands are trembling and I have n't even the strength 
 
 to throw a stone at a dog. 
 WIFE (kisses his hand) 
 
 My poor husband ! 
 
 MAN 
 
 Where do those leaves on the floor come from? 
 They smell so good. Is that your work too? 
 
 WIFE 
 
 No, the neighbors must have done it. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Fine people our neighbors are. It 's strange, there 
 are so many good people in the world, and yet a 
 man can die of hunger. Why is it?
 
 SCENE ii] THE LIFE OF MAN 181 
 
 WIFE 
 
 You 've turned so sad. Your face is growing pale. 
 What is the matter? Do you see anything? 
 
 MAN 
 
 Yes, as I was joking, the terrible image of poverty 
 glided in front of me and stopped there, in the 
 corner. Do you see it? Arms stretched out in com- 
 plaint, a child abandoned in the woods, a praying 
 voice, and the stillness of a human desert. Help ! 
 No one hears. Help, I 'm dying ! No one hears. 
 Look, wife, look! See the dark, gloomy shadows 
 there, quivering and rising like black smoke from a 
 long, terrible chimney leading into hell. Look! 
 And I 'm in the midst of them ! 
 
 WIFE 
 
 I 'm afraid. I can't look in that dark comer. Did 
 you see all that in the street? 
 
 MAN 
 
 Yes, I saw it in the street, and soon it '11 be that 
 way with us. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 No, God will not permit it. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Then why does He permit it to happen to others? 
 
 WIFE 
 
 We 're better than others. We are good people. 
 We never offend Him. 
 
 MAN 
 
 You think so? I do a lot of swearing. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 You 're not bad. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Yes, I am bad. When I walk along the street and
 
 182 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene ii 
 
 see all the things that don't belong to us, I feel as 
 if I had tusks like a boar. Oh, how much money 
 I have n't got ! Listen, my dear wife. I was walk- 
 ing in the park to-day, that lovely park, where the 
 paths are straight as arrows and the beech-trees like 
 kings wearing crowns — 
 
 WIFE" 
 
 And I was walking in the city streets. Shops every- 
 where, such beautiful shops ! 
 
 MAN 
 
 I saw men, beautifully dressed, carrying canes, and 
 I thought : " I have n't anything like that." 
 
 WIFE 
 
 I saw elegantly dressed women, wearing dainty shoes 
 that make your feet beautiful, and pretty hats from 
 under which your eyes shine impenetrably, and silk 
 skirts that make such a mysterious rustle; and I 
 thought : " I have n't a good hat or a silk skirt." 
 
 MAN 
 
 A ruffian jostled me. I showed him my tusks, and 
 he fled in disgrace to hide himself in the crowd. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 A well-dressed lady jostled me, but I didn't even 
 look at her, I felt so embarrassed. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Men rode by on proud, fiery horses. And I have 
 nothing like that. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 She had diamonds in her ears. You felt like kissing 
 them. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Red and green automobiles glided past noiselessly 
 like phantoms with burning eyes, and people sat in
 
 SCENE ii] THE LIFE OF MAN 183 
 
 them and laughed and looked lazily from one side 
 to the other. And I have nothing like it. ^ 
 
 WIFE 
 
 And I have no diamonds, no emeralds, no pure white 
 pearls. 
 
 MAN 
 
 I saw a fine restaurant on the Island. It was 
 brightly illuminated, like heaven, and they were eat- 
 ing there. Black-coated monsters carried around 
 butter and bread and wine and beer, and people ate 
 and drank. My little wife, I 'm hungry ! I want 
 something to eat! 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Dearie, you 're running around all the time, and 
 that makes you still hungrier. You 'd better sit 
 down. I '11 kneel beside you, and you can take a 
 piece of paper and draw a beautiful, beautiful 
 building. 
 
 MAN 
 
 My inspiration is also hungry. It draws nothing 
 but edible landscapes. My palaces are like portly 
 cakes with fat stuffing, and my churches like sau- 
 sages. But I see tears in your eyes. What is it, 
 my dear wife.'' 
 
 WIFE 
 
 I feel so miserable not to be able to help you. 
 
 MAN 
 
 You make me ashamed of myself. I am a strong 
 man with a good mind; I am able, talented, and 
 healthy, and yet I can't do a thing. My dear wife, 
 my little fairy is crying, and I am not able to help 
 her. A woman's tears are her husband's disgrace. 
 I am ashamed.
 
 184 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene ii 
 
 WIFE 
 
 But it is n't your fault that people don't appreciate 
 you. 
 
 MAN 
 
 My ears are burning just as they used to when I was 
 a boy and had had them boxed. Why, you are 
 hungry too, and I, egoist that I am, have n't noticed 
 it. It 's mean of me. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 My dear, I don't feel hungry. 
 
 MAN 
 
 It 's unfair, it 's contemptible. That ruffian who 
 jostled me was right. He saw I was a fat pig and 
 that 's all, a boar with sharp tusks but a stupid 
 head. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 If you are going to keep on reproaching yourself, 
 I '11 cry again. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Don't, don't. No tears ! Tears in your eyes frighten 
 me. I am afraid of those shining crystal drops, as 
 if some other, some terrible person were shedding 
 them, not you. I won't let you cry. We have 
 nothing, we are poor. But I '11 tell you of what we 
 are going to have. I will charm you with a bright 
 fairy tale, my queen. I will array you in dazzling 
 dreams as in roses! 
 
 WIFE 
 
 You must n't be afraid. You are strong, you are a 
 genius, you will conquer. Your momentary despair 
 will pass away, and divine inspiration will again 
 quicken your proud head.
 
 SCENE ii] THE LIFE OF MAX 185 
 
 MAN {assumes a challenging attitiule and throws an 
 oak leaf into the corner where the Unknoxmi stands, 
 saying) Ho, you, whatever your name, Fate, Devil, 
 or Life, I fling my glove down before you, I challenge 
 you to combat ! The poor in spirit bow before your 
 enigmatic power. Your stony face inspires them 
 with fear; in your silence they hear the approaching 
 tread of misery and terrible ruin. But I am strong 
 and bold, and I challenge you to combat ! Come on ! 
 Let the swords glitter, the shields clang! Deal and 
 receive blows so that the earth trembles ! Ho, come 
 forth to battle ! 
 
 WIFE {nestling up at his left, somewhat behind, speak- 
 ing solemnly) Bolder, my husband, still bolder! 
 
 MAN 
 
 To your evil-boding inaction I oppose my living, 
 daring strength ; to your gloom my clear, resonant 
 laugh ! Ho, repel the blows ! You have a stone 
 brow, devoid of reason. I will throw the glowing 
 balls of my sparkling' thought at it. You have a 
 stone heart, devoid of pity. Take care, I will pour 
 into it the poison of my rebellious outcries. The 
 dark cloud of your grim wrath overshadows the sun. 
 We will light the darkness with our swords. Ho, 
 repel the blows ! 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Bolder, still bolder, my proud knight ! Your squire 
 is behind you. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Victorious, I will sing songs which the whole world 
 will reecho; fallen under your blows, my only 
 thought shall be to rise again and rush into battle. 
 There are weak spots in my armor, but when my
 
 186 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene ii 
 
 red blood is flowing, I will gather my last strength 
 and cry: "You have not conquered, evil Enemy of 
 Man ! " 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Bolder, my knight ! I will wash your wounds with 
 my tears. I will stop the flow of your red blood 
 with my kisses. 
 
 MAN 
 
 And dying on the field of battle as the brave die, with 
 one cry I will destroy your blind joy: "I have 
 conquered ! '* I have conquered, O cruel Enemy. 
 Unto my last breath I did not recognize your power! 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Bolder, my knight, bolder ! I will die beside you. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Ho, come forth to battle ! Let the swords glitter, 
 the shields clang! Deal and receive blows to make 
 the earth tremble! Ho, come forth! 
 [For some time Man and his Wife remain in the 
 same posture; then they turn around, facing each 
 other, and kiss. 
 
 MAN 
 
 That 's the way we '11 deal with life, my dear, won't 
 we ? Let it frown like a blind owl in the sun — we '11 
 compel it to smile. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 And to dance to our songs — so we will, we two. 
 
 MAN 
 
 We two. You 're a good wife, you 're my true 
 friend, you 're a brave little woman, and as long as 
 you are with me I fear nothing. Poverty, what does 
 it amount to? To-day we're poor, to-morrow rich.
 
 SCENE ii] THE LIFE OF MAN 187 
 
 WIFE 
 
 And what is hunger? To-day we are hungry, to- 
 morrow satisfied. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Do you think so? It 's quite possible. But I '11 eat 
 a lot. I shall need so much to satisfy my hunger. 
 Tell me, do you think this will prove enough? In 
 the morning, tea or coffee or chocolate. You can 
 have your choice. It 's free. Then a breakfast of 
 three courses, then lunch, then dinner, then — 
 
 WIFE 
 
 More fruit. I like fruit. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Very well. I '11 buy fruit by the barrel, direct from 
 the wholesale market. It 's cheaper and fresher. 
 Besides, we '11 have our own garden. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 But we have no land. 
 
 MAN 
 
 I '11 buy land. I 've always wanted to have my own 
 piece of land. By the way, I '11 build a house for us 
 and design it too. Let the rascals see what sort 
 of an architect I am. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 I should like to live in Italy, close by the sea; in a 
 white marble villa in a grove of lemons and cypresses, 
 with marble steps leading straight down to the blue 
 water. 
 
 MAN 
 
 I understand. That 's all right. But I intend, be- 
 sides, to build a castle in the mountains of Norway. 
 Below, the fjord; and above, on the steep mountain.
 
 188 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene n 
 
 the castle. We have no paper. But look, I '11 show 
 it to you on the wall here. Here is the fjord, you see.? 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Yes, beautiful. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Here, sparkling blue water gently beating against 
 the green grass ; here, beautiful cinnamon-colored 
 stone; and there, in the recess, where this spot is, a 
 bit of blue sky and serene white clouds. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Look, there is a white boat floating on the water — 
 it looks like two swans swimming side by side. 
 
 MAN 
 
 And up there rises the mountain. Bright and green 
 below, it turns gloomier and sterner as it ascends — 
 rugged crags, dark shadows, fallen boulders, and 
 patches of clouds. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Like a ruined castle. 
 
 MAN 
 
 And there, on that spot — the middle one — I '11 
 build my royal castle. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 It 's cold up there, and windy. 
 
 MAN 
 
 I '11 have thick stone walls and large windows with 
 all the panes made out of a single piece of glass. 
 At night, when the winter snowstorms begin to rage 
 and the fjord below to roar, we '11 draw the curtains 
 and make a fire in the huge fireplace. It is such a 
 tremendous fireplace that it will hold a whole log. 
 It will burn up a whole forest of pines.
 
 SCENE ii] THE LIFE OF MAN 189 
 
 WIFE 
 
 How nice and warm.' ^ 
 
 MAN 
 
 And how quiet too, if you will please notice. Car- 
 pets covering the whole floor and lots of books will 
 make it cosy and quietly lively. And we '11 be there, 
 the two of us. The wind howling outside and we two 
 sitting before the fireplace on a white bear-skin rug. 
 " Would n't you like to have a look at what 's doing 
 outside.?" you'll say. "All right!" And we'll 
 go to the largest window and draw aside the curtain. 
 Good heavens ! What a sight ! 
 
 WIFE 
 
 See the snow whirling. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Galloping like white horses, like myriads of fright- 
 ened little spirits, pale with fear and seeking safety 
 in the night. And what a howling and roaring! 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Oh, it 's cold. I 'm shivering. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Go back to the fireplace, quick! Hey there, fetch 
 me grandfather's goblet — not that one, the golden 
 one from which the vikings drank. Fill it up with 
 sparkling wine — not that way — fill it to the brim 
 with the burning draught. Venison is roasting on 
 the spit. Bring it here. I '11 eat some. Quick, or 
 I '11 eat you. I 'm hungry as the devil. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 There, they have brought it. Now, go on. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Go on.'* I '11 eat some, of course. What else do you 
 expect.'* What are you doing to my head, little wife.''
 
 190 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene ii 
 
 WIFE 
 
 I am the goddess of fame. I have woven a crown of 
 the oak leaves that our neighbors scattered here, and 
 I 'm crowning you. It 's Fame that has come to 
 you, the beautiful goddess Fame. (Puts the wreath 
 on his head) 
 
 MAN 
 
 Yes, fame; loud, noisy fame. Look at the wall. 
 Do you see this? It 's I, walking. And who is this 
 next to me? Do you see.? 
 
 WIFE 
 
 I. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Look, they are bowing to us; they are whispering 
 about us; they are pointing their fingers at us. 
 There is a venerable old gentleman saying with tears 
 in his eyes : " Happy the land that has such chil- 
 dren ! " See how pale this youth here has turned. 
 Fame looked at him and gave him a smile. That 's 
 after I built the People's House, which is the pride 
 of the whole country. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 You are my famous husband. The oak wreath suits 
 you so well. A laurel wreath would become you still 
 better. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Look, look, there come the representatives of the 
 city where I was born. They bow to me and say: 
 " Our city is proud of the honor — " 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Oh! 
 
 MAN 
 
 What is it?
 
 SCENE ii] THE LIFE OF MAN 191 
 
 WIFE 
 
 I found a bottle of milk. ^ 
 
 MAN 
 
 Impossible ! 
 
 WIFE 
 
 And bread, soft, sweet-smelling bread. And a cigar. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Impossible ! You are mistaken. It 's the dampness 
 from that damned wall, that 's what it is. It is n't 
 milk. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 But it is. 
 
 MAN 
 
 A cigar.'' Cigars don't grow on windows. They are 
 sold for fortunes in tobacco stores. It 's a black 
 stick, a piece of a branch, I 'm sure. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Look and see. I suppose our neighbors brought it. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Our neighbors.'' I tell you they 're people — they 're 
 not human — they 're divine. But even if the devil 
 himself brought it — quick, give it here, my sweet 
 little wife. 
 
 \^Man's Wife seats herself on his Jcnees, and so they 
 eat. She breaks off pieces of bread and puts them 
 in his mouth. He feeds her the milk from the bottle. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Seems to be cream. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 No, it 's milk. Chew better. You '11 choke. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Give me the crust. It 's so brown.
 
 192 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene ii 
 
 WIFE 
 
 I told you, you 'd choke. 
 
 MAN 
 
 No, it went down. I swallowed It. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 The milk Is running down my chin and neck. Oh, 
 it 's tickling me. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Lean over. I '11 lick it off. We must n't let a drop 
 go to waste. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 You 're a cunning one. 
 
 MAN 
 
 There ! Quick work. All good things soon come to 
 an end. This bottle seems to have a double bottom. 
 It looks so large. The glass manufacturers are 
 terrible cheats. 
 
 [^He lights the cigar with the air of a man relaxing 
 into beatific repose. His Wife ties the red ribbon 
 in her hair, looking at herself in the dark pane of the 
 window. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Don't you see? 
 
 MAN 
 
 I see everything. I see your ribbon, and I see you 
 want me to kiss you on your dear little bare neck. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 No, sir, I won't permit that. You 've grown too 
 forward of late anyway. You take such liberties. 
 Please go on smoking your cigar and leave my 
 neck — 
 
 MAN 
 
 What, Isn't your neck mine? I'll be jiggered!
 
 SCENE ii] THE LIFE OF MAN 193 
 
 Why, it 's an attack on the sacred rights of prop- 
 erty ! {She runs away; he catches her and kisses 
 her) So, the property rights have been restored. 
 Now, my dear, we '11 dance. Imagine that this is a 
 magnificent, a luxurious, a wonderful, a super- 
 natural, an exquisitely beautiful palace. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Very well; I 'm imagining it. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Imagine you 're the queen of the ball. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 All right. It is imagined. 
 
 MAN 
 
 And that counts, marquises, and dukes come up and 
 ask you to dance. But you refuse. You choose 
 that one — What's his name.? — the one in uni- 
 form — the prince. What's the matter.'' 
 
 WIFE 
 
 I don't like princes. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Indeed.'' Then whom do you like.'' 
 
 W^IFE 
 
 Talented artists. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Very well. Here 's one for you. Why, girl, what 
 are you doing? Are you flirting with the air.? 
 
 WIFE 
 
 I am imagining. 
 
 MAN 
 
 All right. Imagine a wonderful orchestra. Here is 
 the Turkish drum — boom, boom, boom! (He 
 strikes his fist on the table as on a drum)
 
 194 THE LIFE OF MAX [scene ii 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Why, dear, it 's only in the circus that they attract 
 crowds by beating drums, but in a palace — 
 
 MAN 
 
 Oh, hang it! Stop imagining that, then. Now 
 imagine something else. The violins are playing a 
 melodious plaint ; the flutes are singing gently ; the 
 double bass drones like a beetle. 
 
 [Man sits down, still wearing his oak wreath, and 
 strikes up a dance tune, clapping his hands in ac- 
 companiment. The melody is the same as in the 
 next scene at Man's ball. The Wife dances. She is 
 well-formed and graceful. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Oh, you darling! 
 
 WIFE 
 
 I am the queen of the ball. 
 
 [The song and dance grow ever jollier. Man rises 
 slowly and begins to dance lightly on the spot where 
 he is standing; then he seizes his Wife and dances 
 with her. The oak wreath slips to one side. 
 Someone in Gray looks on indifferently, the candle 
 burning brightly in his petrified hand. 
 
 CUETAIN
 
 THE THIRD SCENE 
 
 A BALL AT MAN'S HOUSE 
 
 The hall is in the drawing-room of Man^s large 
 mansion. It is a very lofty, spacious, perfectly rectan- 
 gular room. The floor is bright arid smooth. There 
 is a certain irregularity about the room due to the 
 disproportionate size of the parts. Thus, the doors 
 are very small in proportion to the windows. This 
 produces a strange, irritating impression, as of some- 
 thing disharmonious, something lacking, and also of 
 something superfluous and adventitious. The whole is 
 pervaded by a chilly white, the monotony of which is 
 broken only by a row of windows in the rear wall. They 
 are very high, reaching almost to the ceiling, and 
 dense with the blackness of night. Not one gleam, 
 not a bright spot shows in the blank spaces between 
 the window frames. Man's wealth shows in the abun- 
 dance of gildings. There are gilded chairs, and very 
 wide gold frames enclose the pictures. These consti- 
 tute the only furniture as well as the only ornamenta- 
 tion. The lighting is from three chandeliers shaped 
 like rings, with a few electric lights placed at a great 
 distance apart. At the ceiling the light is bright, but 
 considerably less so below, so that the walls seem 
 grayish. 
 
 The ball is vn full swing. The music is furnished by
 
 196 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene hi 
 
 an orchestra of three pieces. The musicians resemble 
 closely their respective instruments; the violinist, a 
 violin — lean neck, small head, a shock of hair brushed 
 to one side, back somewhat bent, a handkerchief cor- 
 rectly adjusted on his shoulder under the violin; the 
 flute-player, a flute — very tall, with a thin, elongated 
 face, and stiff, thin legs; the bass-violinist, a double-, 
 jjass — stumpy, round-shotddered, lower part of his 
 body very stout, wide trousers. The uncommon effort 
 with which the musicians play is painfully evident. 
 They beat time, swing their heads, and shake their 
 bodies. The tune is the same throughout the ball, a 
 short polka in two musical phrases, producing a jolly, 
 hopping, extremely insipid effect. The three instrur 
 ments do not quite keep time with one another, pro- 
 ducing a sort of queer detachment, a vacant space, 
 as it were, between them and the sounds which they 
 produce. 
 
 Young men and girls are dancing dreamily. All are 
 handsome, distinguished-looking, with good figures. 
 In contrast to the piercing notes of the music, their 
 dancing is smooth, noiseless, light. At the first musical 
 phrase, they circle around; at the second, they grace- 
 fully part and join again. There is a slight mannerism 
 in their dancing. 
 
 Along the walls, on the gilded chairs, sit the Guests, 
 stiff and constrained. They scarcely venture to move 
 their heads. Their conversation is also constrained. 
 They do not whisper to one another; they do not 
 laugh, and they scarcely look at one another. They 
 speak abruptly, as if chopping out the words of a text. 
 Their hands hanging superciliously over their laps 
 make their arms look as if they had been broken at the
 
 SCENE m] THE LIFE OF MAN 197 
 
 wrists. The monotony of their faces is strongly em- 
 phasised. Every face bears the same expression of 
 self-satisfaction, haughtiness, and inane respect for the 
 wealth of Man. 
 
 The dancing girls are all in white, the men in black. 
 Some of the Guests wear black, white, and brightly 
 yellow flowers. 
 
 In the near corner, which is darker than the rest. 
 Someone in Gray called He stands motionless. The can- 
 dle in his hand is reduced two-thirds and burns with a 
 strong, yellow light, casting a yellow sheen on His 
 stony face and chin. 
 
 THE guests' conversation 
 
 — It is a very great honor to be a guest at Man's 
 ball. 
 
 — You may add, it is an honor of which very few 
 have been deemed worthy. The whole city tried to 
 get themselves invited, but only a very few succeeded. 
 My husband, my children, and I are quite proud 
 of the honor Man has showed us. 
 
 — I am really sorry for those who were not able to 
 get here. They won't sleep the whole night from 
 sheer envy, and to-morrow they '11 say nasty things 
 about the ball and call it a bore. 
 
 — They never saw such magnificence. 
 
 — Or such wonderful wealth and luxury. 
 
 — Or, I dare say, such charming, free and easy 
 gayety. 
 
 — If this is n't gay, I should like to know what is. 
 
 — Oh, what's the use of talking? You can't con- 
 vince people consumed by jealousy. They '11 tell us 
 we did n't sit on gilded chairs, absolutely not.
 
 198 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene in 
 
 — They '11 say that the chairs were of the common- 
 est sort, bought at second hand. 
 
 — That the illumination was not by electricity, but 
 just by tallow candles. 
 
 — Say candle stumps. 
 
 — Or dirty lamps. 
 
 — They '11 have the impudence to maintain that the 
 mouldings in Man's house are not gilded. 
 
 — And that the broad picture frames are not made 
 of gold. It seems to me I can hear the very ring of it. 
 
 — You can see its glitter. That 's quite sufficient, I 
 should think. 
 
 — I have rarely had the pleasure of hearing such 
 music. 
 
 — It is divine harmony. It transports the soul to 
 higher spheres. 
 
 — I should think th^ music good enough, considering 
 the money paid for it. It is the best trio in the city. 
 They play on the most important and solemn occa- 
 sions. 
 
 — If you listen awhile, it compels your absolute 
 attention. After a ball at Man's, my children keep 
 singing the tune a long time. 
 
 — I sometimes think I hear it in the street. I look 
 around — no musicians, no music. 
 
 — What I like especially in these musicians is the 
 great effort they make when they play. They know 
 the price they 're paid and don't want to get the 
 money for nothing. That 's very decent of them. 
 
 — It seems as if they became a part of their instru- 
 ments, their efforts are so great. 
 
 — Or as if the instruments became part of them, 
 
 — How rich !
 
 SCENE III] THE LIFE OF MAN 199 
 
 — How magnificent ! 
 
 — How brilliant ! \ 
 
 — How rich ! 
 
 [For some time the two expressions, " How rich! 
 How magnificent ! " are repeated from different 
 parts of the room, uttered abruptly, like a hark. 
 
 — Beside this ballroom there are fourteen other mag- 
 nificent rooms in Man's house. I have seen them all. 
 The dining-room has such a huge fireplace that you 
 can put a whole log into it. There are magnificent 
 guest-rooms and a beautiful boudoir. A large bed- 
 room, and over the pillows on the beds — just 
 fancy ! — canopies ! 
 
 — Why, how wonderful ! Canopies ! 
 
 — Did you hear.'' Canopies! 
 
 — Permit me to continue. For their son, the little 
 boy, they have a beautiful bright room of golden 
 yellow wood. It looks as if the sun were shining 
 into it all the time. 
 
 — He is such a fine boy. He has curly hair that 
 looks like the rays of the sun. 
 
 — That 's true. When you look at him you wonder 
 whether the sun has risen. 
 
 — And when you look at his eyes you think: 
 " Autumn is gone, and the blue sky is here again." 
 
 — Man loves his son madly. He bought him a pony 
 for horseback riding, a nice snow-white pony. My 
 children — 
 
 — Pray, let me continue. Have I told you yet about 
 the swimming-pool.'' 
 
 — No. No. 
 
 — A swimming-pool, a perfect marvel, 
 
 — What, a swimming-pool !
 
 200 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene iii 
 
 — Yes. And further on is Man's study, full of 
 books, books, books. They say he 's a very learned 
 man. 
 
 — You can see it by the books. 
 
 — I have seen his garden. 
 
 — I have n't. 
 
 — It was entrancing, I must say. Imagine an 
 emerald-green lawn kept beautifully mowed and 
 trimmed at the edges. In the middle a path of fine 
 red sand. 
 
 — Flowers — even palms. 
 
 — Yes, even palms. And all the trees trimmed as 
 carefully and precisely as the lawn, some cut in the 
 shape of pyramids, others in the shape of green 
 columns. There 's a lovely fountain and little plas- 
 ter elves and deer scattered all around in the grass. 
 
 — How rich ! 
 
 — How magnificent ! 
 
 — How brilliant ! 
 
 — How rich ! 
 
 — Man did me the honor of showing me his stables 
 and bams. I had to tell him how much I admired 
 his horses and carriages. I was particularly im- 
 pressed by his motor car. 
 
 — Think of it, he has seven servants ; seven — a 
 chef, a woman-cook, two maids, gardeners — 
 
 — You forget the coachman and the chauffeur. 
 
 — Yes, of course, the coachman and the chauffeur. 
 
 — And they themselves do nothing at all. They are 
 too fine. 
 
 — You must admit, it is a great honor to have been 
 invited to Man's ball. 
 
 — Don't you find the music somewhat monotonous.''
 
 SCENE III] THE LIFE OF MAN 201 
 
 • — No, I don't, and I 'm surprised jou do. Don't 
 you see what kind of musicians they are? \ 
 
 — I should like to hear such music all my life. 
 That 's what I say. There 's something in that 
 music that stirs me. 
 
 — Me too. 
 
 — Me too. 
 
 — It is a delicious sensation to abandon oneself to 
 dreams of happiness under the influence of this 
 music ! 
 
 — To transport oneself in fancy to the astral 
 
 eres 
 
 sph 
 
 — How fine ! 
 
 — How rich ! 
 
 — How magnificent ! 
 [These phrases are repeated. 
 
 — I notice a stir at that door, Man and his Wife 
 will soon pass through the hall. 
 
 — The musicians are working away for dear life. 
 
 — There they are ! 
 
 — They 're coming ! Look, they 're coming ! 
 [Man, his Wife, his Friends, and his Enemies ap- 
 pear in the door on the right, cross the room diago- 
 nally to the door on the left. The dancers go on 
 dancing, hut part to make way for them. The 
 musicians play desperately loud and out of tune. 
 Man has aged greatly. His long hair and long heard 
 are heginning to turn gray. But his face is manly 
 and handsome, and he walks with calm dignity and 
 an air of coldness. He looks straight ahead of him, 
 as if not noticing those around him.. His Wife has 
 also aged, hut she is still beautiful and walks leaning 
 on his arm. She too seems not to notice the people
 
 202 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene iii 
 
 around her, but looks straight ahead, with a rather 
 strange, almost fixed expression. Both are richly 
 dressed. 
 
 His Friends follow directly behind Man. They re- 
 semble one another very much — noble -faces, high 
 and candid foreheads, honest eyes. They walk 
 proudly, throwing out their chests, stepping firmly 
 and confidently, and looking, now to this side, now to 
 that, with condescension and slight disdain. They 
 wear white roses in their buttonholes. 
 Following them at a slight distance come Man's Ene- 
 mies, also very much resembling one another — mean, 
 cunning faces; low, heavy foreheads; long, ape- 
 like arms. They walk uneasily, pushing, bending, 
 and hiding behind one anmther, and casting sharp, 
 mean, envious, sidelong glances from beneath lowered 
 lids. Yellow roses appear in their buttonholes. 
 Thus they pass through the room, slowly and in 
 perfect silence. The sounds of the steps, the music, 
 and the exclamations of the Guests produce a 
 sharply discordant noise. 
 guests' conversation 
 
 — There they are. There they are. What an 
 honor ! 
 
 — How handsome he is ! 
 
 — What a manly face ! 
 
 — Look ! Look ! 
 
 — He is n't looking at us ! 
 
 — He does n't see us ! 
 
 — We are his guests ! 
 
 — What an honor ! What an honor ! 
 
 — And his wife ! Look ! Look ! 
 
 — How beautiful she is !
 
 scEKE 111] THE LIFE OF MAN 203 
 
 — How proud ! 
 
 — I tell you, just look at her diamonds! ^ 
 
 — Her pearls ! Her pearls ! 
 
 — And her rubies ! 
 
 — How rich ! What an honor ! 
 
 — Honor! Honor! Honor! 
 
 [^The same phrases are repeated again. 
 
 — Here are Man's Friends ! 
 
 — Look, look, there are Man's Friends. 
 
 — Noble faces ! 
 
 — Proud gait ! 
 
 — They shine with the reflected splendor of his fame. 
 
 — How they love him ! 
 
 — How faithful they are to him ! 
 
 — What an honor to be one of Man's Friends ! 
 
 — They regard everything here as their own ! 
 
 — They 're at home here ! 
 
 — What an honor ! 
 
 — Honor! Honor! Honor! 
 \^Same phrases are repeated. 
 
 — And there are Man's Enemies ! 
 
 — Look, look, IMan's Enemies ! 
 
 — They walk like whipped curs ! 
 
 — Man has subdued them ! 
 
 — He 's put a muzzle on them ! 
 
 — They 're wagging their tails ! 
 
 — They 're sneaking behind one another. 
 
 — They 're pushing one another. 
 
 — Ha-ha ! Ha-ha ! 
 [Everybody laughs. 
 
 — What mean faces ! 
 
 — What greedy looks I 
 
 — Cowardly !
 
 204 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene iii 
 
 — Malevolent ! 
 
 — They 're afraid" to look at us ! 
 
 — They feel we 're at home ! 
 
 — Let 's frighten them. 
 
 — Man '11 be thankful to us for it. 
 
 — Ho-ho ! 
 
 \^They shout at Man's Enemies, Tnlngling their 
 shouts with laughter. The Enemies huddle closer 
 together and cast sharp, timid, sideward glances. 
 
 — They 're going ! They 're going ! 
 
 — What an honor! 
 
 — They 're going! 
 
 — Ho-ho ! Ha-ha ! 
 
 — They 're gone ! They 're gone ! They 're gone I 
 [The procession disappears through the door on the 
 left. A pause of silence. The music plays less loudly, 
 and the dancers begin gradually to fill the hall. 
 
 — Where did they go? 
 
 — I believe they went to the dining-room, where 
 supper is being served. 
 
 — I suppose they '11 soon invite us in. Do you see 
 anybody looking for us? 
 
 — Yes, it 's time for supper. If you eat too late, 
 you can't sleep well. 
 
 • — I always serve supper early. 
 
 — A late supper lies heavy on your stomach. 
 
 — And the music is still playing. 
 
 — And they 're still dancing. 
 
 — I wonder they don't get tired. 
 
 — How rich ! 
 
 — How magnificent ! 
 
 — Do you know for how many guests they have 
 prepared the supper?
 
 SCENE III] THE LIFE OF MAN 205 
 
 — I did n't get a chance to count all the covers. The 
 caterer came in, and I had to get out. ^ 
 
 — Could they possibly have forgotten us? 
 
 — Man is so proud, and we are so unimportant. 
 
 — Don't say that. My husband says we do him an 
 honor by accepting his invitation. We are rich, too. 
 
 — When you consider the reputation of his wife — 
 
 — Do you see anyone looking for us ? Maybe he 's 
 looking for us in the other rooms. 
 
 • — How rich ! 
 
 — If you are not careful with other people's money, 
 it 's easy to get rich, I think. 
 
 — Oh, now, it 's only his enemies who say that. 
 
 — Well, after all, there are some very respectable 
 people among them. I must admit that my hus- 
 band — 
 
 — It is late, though. 
 
 — It 's clear there must be a mistake somewhere. I 
 can't believe we 've simply been forgotten. 
 
 — Evidently you know people and life very little if 
 you think so. 
 
 — I am surprised. We are rich enough ourselves. 
 ■ — It seems to me someone called us. 
 
 — You 're mistaken, no one called us. I don't under- 
 stand it. To be quite frank — why did we come to a 
 house like this, with such a reputation? One should 
 be very careful of the friends one chooses. 
 
 A LIVERIED LACKEY {appears at the door) 
 
 Man and his Wife beg the honored guests to step 
 into the dining-room. 
 
 GUESTS {rising quickly) 
 
 — What a livery ! 
 
 — He asked us to come in !
 
 206 THE LIFE OF i\IAN [scene iii 
 
 — I said there must be a mistake somewhere. 
 
 • — Man is so good. I 'm sure he has n't had a 
 chance to sit down at table himself. 
 
 — Did n't I say someone was looking for us ? 
 
 — What a livery ! 
 
 — They say the supper is grand. 
 
 — Everything at Man's is done in a grand style. 
 
 — What music ! What an honor to be at Man's ball ! 
 
 — Let those envy us who — 
 
 — How grand ! 
 
 — How magnificent ! 
 
 — What an honor ! 
 
 [They go out one after the other, repeating the 
 . .last phrases. One couple after the other stop danc- 
 ing and follow the Guests in silence. For some time 
 a single couple remain circling on the floor, but they 
 too jovn the others at last. The musicians, however, 
 continue to play, making the same desperate effort. 
 The lackey turns out the electric lights, leaving only 
 one light in the farthest chandelier. The figures of 
 the musicians are vaguely seen in the dim light, sway- 
 ing to and fro with their instruments. The outline 
 of Someone in Gray is sharply visible. TK^ flame 
 of the candle flickers, illuminating His stony face 
 and chin with a garish, yellow light. 
 He turns around without raising his head, walks 
 slowly and calmly through the whole length of the 
 room, and disappears through the door through 
 •which Man passed out. 
 
 CURTAIN
 
 THE FOURTH SCENE 
 
 MAN'S MISFORTUNE 
 
 A large, gloomy, quadrangular room, with darJc 
 walls, dark floor, and dark ceiling. There are two 
 high, curtainless windows with eight panes in the rear 
 wall, and between them a small, low door. Two similar 
 windows appear in the right wall. Night glooms 
 through the windows, and when the door opens, the 
 same deep blackness of night stares into the room. 
 In general, however bright Man's rooms may be, the 
 vast darkness of the windows engulfs the light. 
 
 On tlie left wall there is nothing but a small, low' 
 door leading to the rest of the house. At the window 
 on the right stands a broad sofa covered with dark oil- 
 cloth. Man's desk is very simple and poor. On it 
 are -pi a dimly burning, shaded lamp, a sheet of yellow 
 paper xvith a sketch drawn on it, and a lot of toys — 
 a little peaked cap, a wooden horse without a tail, and 
 a red, long-nosed clown with bells. Between the win- 
 dows there is an old dilapidated bookcase entirely 
 empty. The visible lines of dust left by the books 
 show that they must have been removed recently. The 
 room has only one chair. 
 
 In the darkest corner stands Someone in Gray called 
 He. The candle in his hand is now no longer than it 
 is thick. The wax is running over « little. The stump
 
 208 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene iv 
 
 burns with a reddish, flickering light, and casts a red 
 sheen on His stony face and chin. 
 
 The only remaining servant of Man, an Old Woman, 
 is sitting on the chair. She speaks in an even voice, 
 addressing an imaginary companion. 
 
 OLD WOMAN 
 
 There ! Man has slipped back into poverty. He 
 had a lot of valuable things, horses and carriages, 
 and even an automobile. Now he has nothing. Of 
 all his servants I am the only one left. There are 
 still some good things in here and in two other 
 rooms. There 's the sofa and the bookcase. But in 
 the other twelve rooms there 's not a thing. They 
 are dark and empty. Rats run around in them day 
 and night and fight and squeak. People are afraid, 
 but I 'm not. It 's all the same to me. 
 An iron sign has been hanging on the gate for ever 
 so long, saying the house is for sale. But no one 
 wants to buy it. The sign 's rusty already, and the 
 rain has worn the letters away. But no one comes 
 to buy the house. No one wants an old house. Yet 
 maybe someone will buy it. Then we '11 be going to 
 look for another place to live in. It '11 be a strange 
 place. My mistress will begin to cry, and, I dare 
 say, the old gentleman will too. But I won't. It 's 
 all the same to me. 
 
 You wonder what 's become of all his riches. I don't 
 know. Maybe it seems strange, but I 've been living 
 with other people all my life, and many is the time 
 I 've seen money disappear, quietly running oflF 
 through some leak or other. That 's the way it has 
 happened to these folks too. They had a lot, then
 
 SCENE iv] THE LIFE OF MAN 209 
 
 it got to be a little, and then nothing at all. People 
 came and bought things. Then they stopped com- 
 ing. I once asked my mistress how it came about. 
 She answered : " People have stopped liking what 
 they used to like; they have stopped loving what 
 they used to love." " How is that possible.'' " says 
 I. " How can people stop liking what they once 
 liked.'' " She did n't answer and fell to crying. But 
 I did n't. It 's all the same to me. It 's all the 
 same to me. 
 
 People say they are surprised at me. It 's terrible, 
 they say, to live in this house ; terrible to sit here at 
 night with only the wind whining in the chimney 
 and the rats squeaking and scuffling. Maybe it is 
 terrible, I don't know; but I don't think about it. 
 Why should I? There they sit, the tAvo of them, 
 in their room, looking at each other and listening 
 to the whining of the wind ; and I sit in the kitchen 
 alone and listen to the whining of the wind. Does n't 
 the same wind whine in our ears.'' Young folks used 
 to come to see their son, and they would all laugh 
 and sing and go through the empty rooms to chase 
 the rats. But nobody comes to me, and I sit alone, 
 all alone. There 's no one to talk to, so I talk to 
 myself, and it 's all the same to me. 
 I 'm sure they had a hard enough time of it — no 
 need of more ill luck. But three days ago another 
 misfortune happened to them. The young gentle- 
 man went out walking, his hat cocked, his hair 
 dressed in latest fashion. And a bad man went and 
 threw a stone at him from behind a comer and broke 
 his head like a nut. They brought him home, put 
 him to bed, and now he 's dying in there. Maybe
 
 210 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene iv 
 
 he '11 recover and live — who knows ? The old lad}- 
 and the old gentleman cried, and then they put all 
 the books on a wagon and sold them. With the 
 money they hired a nurse, bought medicines, and 
 even grapes. So the books, too, were of some good. 
 But he does n't eat the grapes. He does n't even 
 look at them. They just lie there on the dish, 
 just lie there. 
 DOCTOR (enters through the outer door; his face looks 
 red and his manner is uneasy) Can you tell me if 
 I am in the right place? I 'm a doctor. I have 
 many visits to pay, and I often make mistakes. I 'm 
 called here and there and everywhere, and all the 
 houses look alike and the people in them are all 
 sad. Have I struck the right place? 
 
 OLD WOMAN 
 
 I don't know. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 I '11 consult my note-book. Is there a child here 
 choking with a sore throat? 
 
 OLD WOMAN 
 
 No. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Is there a man here who suddenly went insane from 
 poverty and attacked his wife and two children with 
 a hatchet? Four patients in all, I suppose. 
 
 OLD WOMAN 
 
 No. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Is there a girl here whose heart stopped beating? 
 Don't lie, old woman, I think she is here. 
 
 OLD WOMAN 
 
 No.
 
 SCENE iv] THE LIFE OF MAN 211 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Well, I believe you. You seem to speak the truth. 
 Is there a young man here whose head was broken 
 by a stone and who is dying? 
 
 OLD WOMAN 
 
 Yes. Go through that door on the left, but don't 
 go any farther. The rats will eat you up ! 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Very well. They keep ringing, ringing all the time, 
 day and night. Here it is, late at night. All the 
 lights in the street are out, and I am still on the run. 
 Often I make a mistake and enter the wrong house. 
 Yes, old woman, I do. {Exit through the door 
 leading inside) 
 
 OLD WOMAN 
 
 One doctor has already treated him, but did n't cure 
 him. Now there 's another, and I guess he won't 
 cure him either. Well ! Then their son will die, 
 and we '11 remain alone in the house. I '11 sit in 
 the kitchen and talk to myself, and they '11 sit in 
 there keeping quiet and thinking. Another room 
 vacated, another room for the rats to scuffle in. 
 Let them squeak and scuffle. It 's all the same to 
 me. It 's all the same to me. You ask me why that 
 bad fellow threw the stone at our young gentleman. 
 I don't know — how could I know why people want 
 to kill each other? One threw a stone from behind 
 a corner and ran away ; the other one fell in a heap 
 and is now dying — that 's all I know. They say 
 that our young gentleman was a fine chap, very 
 brave, and very kind to poor people, I don't know 
 anything about it — it is all the same to me. 
 Whether they are good or bad, young or old, quick
 
 212 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene iv 
 
 or dead, it is all the same to me. It is all the same 
 to me. 
 
 As long as they pay, I '11 stay with them ; and when 
 they stop paying, I '11 go to other people to do their 
 housework, and finally I shall stop altogether — 
 when I get old, and my eyesight gets poor, so that 
 I can't tell salt from sugar. Then they '11 turn me 
 out and say : " Go where you please. We '11 hire 
 another one." What of it? I '11 go. It 's all the 
 same to me. Here, there, or nowhere, it 's all the 
 same to me. It 's all the same to me. 
 [Enter Doctor, Man and his Wife. Both have aged 
 greatly and are completely gray. Man's long bris- 
 tling hair and beard give his face a leonine appear- 
 ance. He walks slightly stooping, but holds his 
 head erect and looks sternly and resolutely from 
 beneath his gray eyebrows. When he looks at any- 
 thing closely, he puts on large, silver-framed eye- 
 glasses. 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Your son has fallen into a deep sleep. Don't wake 
 him. It may bring on a turn for the better. You 
 go to sleep too. When one has a chance to sleep 
 one should grab it and not stay up talking. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Thank you, doctor, it 's been such a relief. Will 
 you call to-morrow again .f* 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Yes, to-morrow and the day after to-morrow. Old 
 woman, you go to bed too. It 's late, it 's time for 
 all to go to bed. Is that the door to leave by? I 
 often make mistakes.
 
 SCENE IV ] THE LIFE OF MAN 213 
 
 \^He goes out. The Old Woman goes also. Man 
 and his Wife are left alone. \ 
 
 MAN 
 
 Look, wife, I began to draw this while our son was 
 still well. I stopped at this line and thought I 'd 
 rest and resume the work later. See what a simple, 
 placid line it is, yet horrible to look at. It may be 
 the last line I shall have drawn in our boy's lifetime. 
 What malicious ignorance there is graven in its 
 simplicity and placidity. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Don't get excited, my dear. Don't think those evil 
 thoughts. I believe the doctor told the truth and 
 our son will recover. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Aren't you excited too.^* Look at yourself in the 
 mirror. You 're as white as your hair, my old 
 friend. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Of course, I am a little excited, but I 'm convinced 
 there 's no danger. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Now, as always, you encourage me and fool me so 
 sincerely, so guilelessly. My poor squire, true 
 guardian of my dulled sword, your knight is a poor, 
 broken-down man. He cannot hold a weapon in his 
 feeble hand. What do I see.? Our son's toys. Who 
 put them there.'' 
 
 WIFE 
 
 My dear, you put them there yourself long ago. 
 Have you forgotten? You said you found it easier 
 to work with the child's innocent toys beside you,
 
 214 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene iv 
 
 MAN 
 
 Yes, I had forgotten. But now it 's terrible to look 
 at them, as terrible as it is for a convict to look at in- 
 struments of torture. If the child dies, his toys 
 will remain as a curse to the living. Wife, wife, 
 the sight of them is terrible to me ! 
 
 WIFE 
 
 It was when we were still poor that we bought them. 
 How touching it is to look at them, those poor, 
 dear toys ! 
 
 MAN 
 
 I can't help it, I must take them in my hands. 
 Here 's the horse with the tail torn off. Hop, hop, 
 horsie ! Where arc you galloping off to ? I 'm 
 going far, far away, papa, to where the fields are 
 and the green woods. Take me along, horsie. Hop, 
 hop, hop ! Sit down, dear papa. And there 's the 
 soldier's cap, the cheap cap I tried on myself in 
 fun when I bought it. Who are you.'' I 'm a knight, 
 papa. I 'm the bravest, the strongest knight. 
 Where are you going, my little knight? I 'm going 
 to kill the dragon, dear papa. I 'm going to free 
 the captives, papa. Go, go, my little knight. {The 
 Wife cries) And there 's our everlasting clown, with 
 his kind, stupid face. But how ragged he is, as if he 
 had come out of a hundred frays. Tinkle, friend, 
 the way you used to tinkle. What, you can't.'' Only 
 one bell left, you say ? Well, I '11 throw you on 
 the floor. {Throws down the toy) 
 
 WIFE 
 
 What are you doing? Remember how often our 
 boy kissed his funny face,
 
 SCENE iv] THE LIFE OF MAN 215 
 
 MAN 
 
 Yes, that was wrong of me. Forgive me, friend, for- 
 give me. {He bends down with difficulty and picks 
 up the clown) Still laughing? Don't. I '11 put 
 you away, out of sight. Don't be angry, I can't 
 bear your smile now. Go and laugh in a place where 
 I can't see you. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 It breaks my heart to hear you speak like that. 
 Believe me, our son will get well. It would n't be 
 just if the young were to die before the old, would it? 
 
 MAN 
 
 Just? Where have you ever seen justice, wife? 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Please, dear husband, I beg you, kneel down beside 
 me, and let us both pray to God. 
 
 MAN 
 
 It 's hard for an old man to bend his old knees. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Bend them. You should — you must. 
 
 MAN 
 
 He will not hear me, He whose ear I 've never 
 troubled with either praise or entreaty. You pray. 
 You are the mother. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 You pray — you are the father. If a father is not 
 to pray for his son, who is? To whom are you 
 leaving him? Can one person tell the same things 
 in the same way as the two of us together? 
 
 MAN 
 
 Very well. Maybe eternal justice will answer the 
 prayers of an old man who bends his old knees. 
 \Both go down on their knees, their faces turned to
 
 216 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene iv 
 
 the corner where the Unknown stands motionless; their 
 arms are folded over their breasts while they pray. 
 
 THE mother's prayer 
 
 God, I beg you, let my son live. I can understand 
 only one thing, I can say only one thing, only one 
 thing — God, let my son live. I have no other words, 
 all is dark around me, everything is falling. I under- 
 stand nothing, and there 's such a terror in my heart, 
 
 Lord, that I can say only this one thing — God, 
 let my son live ! Let him live ! Forgive me for pray- 
 ing so poorly. But I cannot pray in any other way. 
 You understand, O Lord, I can't. Look at me! 
 Just look at me! Do you see.? Do you see how 
 my head shakes, do you see how my hands shake.'' 
 But what are my hands, O Lord ! Have pity on 
 him. He is so young — he has a birthmark on his 
 right hand. Let him live, even if only a little while, 
 a little while. He is so young, such a mere foolish 
 child — he 's still fond of sweets. I bought him 
 grapes. Pity — have pity ! 
 
 [She weeps in a subdued way, covering her face with 
 her hands. Man speaks without looking at her. 
 
 THE father's prayer 
 
 Here I am praying, you see. I 've bent my old 
 knees. I 've prostrated myself in the dust before 
 you. I 'm kissing the ground, do you see.^" Maybe 
 
 1 have sometimes offended you. If so, forgive me, 
 forgive me. It is true, I was haughty, arrogant. 
 I demanded and did not beg. Often I condemned — 
 forgive me. And if you wish, if this be your will, 
 punish me, but spare my son. Spare him, I beg 
 you. Not for mercj^ not for pity do I pray you. 
 I pray for justice. You are old, and I am old too,
 
 SCENE iv] THE LIFE OF MAN 217 
 
 You will understand more easily than I. Bad peo- 
 ple wanted to kill him, people who insult^ you by 
 their deeds and defile your earth — bad, heartless 
 people, who throw stones from behind comers. From 
 behind comers, the scoundrels ! Do not then, I 
 pray you, permit the fulfilment of this evil deed. 
 Stay the blood, give back the life — give back the 
 life to my noble son ! You took everything away 
 from me, but did I ever ask you like a beggar : " Give 
 me back my wealth, give me back my friends, give 
 me back my talent"? No, never. I did not even 
 ask you for my talent, and you know what his talent 
 means to a man. It is more than life. I thought 
 perhaps that 's the way it ought to be, and I bore 
 everything, bore everything with pride. But now 
 I ask you on my knees, in the dust, kissing the earth: 
 "Give back my son's life." I kiss your earth! 
 \_He rises. Someone called He listens indifferently 
 to the father'' s and mother's prayers. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 I *m afraid your prayer was not humble enough. 
 There was a certain tone of pride in it. 
 
 MAN 
 
 No, no, my wife, I spoke well to Him, the way a man 
 should speak. He cannot love cringing flatterers 
 better than brave, proud men who speak the truth. 
 No, wife, you cannot understand. Now I believe 
 also and feel reassured — in fact, I am happy. I 
 feel that I too still signify something to my boy, 
 and it makes me glad. Go and see if he *s asleep. 
 He needs a lot of good, hard sleep. 
 [The Wife goes out. Man, "with a friendly look to 
 the corner where Someone in Gray stands, picks up
 
 218 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene 
 
 i^' 
 
 the toy clown, plays with it, and gives its red nose 
 a quick Jciss. At that instant his Wife enters and 
 Man speaks shamefacedly. 
 
 MAN 
 
 I was begging his pardon. I insulted this fool. 
 Well, how is our dear boy.'* 
 
 WIFE 
 
 He is so pale. 
 
 MAN 
 
 That 's nothing. It '11 pass away. He lost a lot 
 of blood. 
 
 "WIFE 
 
 It makes me so sad to look at his poor shorn head. 
 He had such beautiful golden curls. 
 
 MAN 
 
 They had to be cut so that the wound could be 
 washed. Never mind, wife, his hair will grow again 
 and be still finer. Did you keep what was cut off.'* 
 Be sure to keep it. His precious blood is on it. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Yes, I put it away in the chest, the last one left of 
 all our wealth. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Don't worry about wealth. Just wait until our 
 son begins to work. He '11 restore all we 've lost. 
 I feel well again, wife, and I firmly believe in our 
 future. Do you remember our poor little rosy 
 room? The good neighbors scattered oak leaves in 
 it, and you made a wreath of them and put it on my 
 head and said I was a genius. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 I say so still. Other people have ceased to appre- 
 ciate you, but not I.
 
 SCENE IV ] THE LIFE OF MAN 219 
 
 MAN 
 
 No, my dear little wife, you 're wron^. What 
 genius creates outlives the old dirty bundle of rags 
 known as the body, whereas I am still living, and my 
 productions — 
 
 WIFE 
 
 No, they 're not dead and they never will die. Do 
 you remember that corner house you built ten years 
 ago? Every evening at sunset you go to look at it. 
 Is there a more beautiful building in the whole city, 
 is there any with more depth to it.'' 
 
 MAN 
 
 Yes, I purposely built it so that the last rays of 
 the setting sun should fall upon it and set its win- 
 dows aglow. When the whole city is in darkness, my 
 house is still taking leave of the sun. It was well 
 done, and perhaps it will survive me a little while at 
 least. What do you think.? 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Of course, my friend. 
 
 MAN 
 
 The only thing that hurts, wife, is that the people 
 have forgotten me so soon. They might have re- 
 membered me a little longer, just a little longer. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 They have forgotten what they knew, and ceased to 
 love what they loved. 
 
 MAN 
 
 They might have remembered me a little longer, a 
 little longer. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 I saw a young artist near that house. He studied
 
 220 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene iv 
 
 it carefully and made a sketch of it in his sketch- 
 book. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Ah, why didn't you tell me that before? It's 
 highly significant, highly significant. It means that 
 my ideas are accepted and handed down by others, 
 and even if I am forgotten, my ideas will live. It 
 is tremendously significant. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Yes, my dear, you are not forgotten. Do you re- 
 member the young man who bowed so reverently to 
 you on the street.'' 
 
 MAN 
 
 Yes, that 's so, wife. He was a fine, very fine youth. 
 He had such a nice young face. It 's good you 
 reminded me of his bow. It has sent a ray of bright- 
 ness into my heart. But I feel sleepy. I must be 
 tired. I am old too, my dear little gray wife. Have 
 you noticed it-f* 
 
 WIFE 
 
 You 're just as handsome as ever. 
 
 MAN 
 
 And my eyes are bright? 
 
 WIFfi 
 
 Yes, your eyes are bright. 
 
 MAN 
 
 And my hair is black as pitch.'' 
 
 WIFE 
 
 It 's so white, so like snow that it 's even more 
 beautiful. 
 
 MAN 
 
 And no wrinkles?
 
 SCENE iv] THE LIFE OF MAN 221 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Yes, there are little wrinkles on your face, but — 
 
 MAN 
 
 Of course, I know I 'm a beauty. To-morrow I '11 
 buy myself a uniform and enter the light cavalry. 
 Yes? (^His Wife laughs) 
 
 WIFE 
 
 There, you 're joking too, as in olden times. But lie 
 down here and sleep a little. I '11 go to look after 
 our boy. Don't worry, I won't leave him. I '11 call 
 you when he wakes. You don't care to kiss an old 
 wrinkled hand, do you? 
 MAN (kissing her hand) 
 
 Go, you 're the most beautiful woman I 've ever 
 known. 
 
 WIFE 
 
 And the wrinkles? 
 
 MAN 
 
 What wrinkles? I only see a dear, kind, good, 
 sensible face. Nothing else. Don't take offence at 
 my stern tone. Go to the boy, watch him, stay with 
 him like a quiet shadow of gentleness and love. And 
 if he is disturbed in his sleep, sing him a song as 
 you used to do. And put the grapes nearer, so 
 that he can reach them. 
 
 [The Wife goes out, Man lies down on the sofa, his 
 head toward the spot where Someone in Gray stands 
 immobile, so that His hand almost touches Man's 
 gray, dishevelled hair. Man falls asleep qmckly. 
 
 SOMEONE IN GRAY 
 
 Man has fallen into a sound, sweet sleep, deceived by 
 hope. His breath is soft as a child's, his heart beats 
 calmly and evenly, bringing him relief. He knows
 
 222 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene iv 
 
 not that in a few moments his son will die. In mys- 
 terious dream-fancies a picture of impossible happi- 
 ness arises before him. 
 
 It seems to him that he and his son are drifting in 
 a white boat along a beautiful, quiet stream. It 
 seems to him that it is a glorious day, and he sees 
 the deep sky and the transparent crystal water. He 
 hears the rustling of the reeds as they part before 
 the boat. It seems to him that he is happy and glad. 
 All his feelings betray him. 
 
 Suddenly he is disturbed. The terrible truth has 
 entered through the thick veil of sleep and stung his 
 thoughts. 
 
 "Why is your golden hair cut so short, my boy? 
 Why.?" 
 
 " I had a headache, papa, that 's why." 
 And deceived once more, he feels happy again, sees 
 the deep sky, and hears the rustling of the parting 
 reeds. 
 
 He knows not that his son is already dying. He 
 hears not how, in a last senseless hope, with a child's 
 faith in the power of adults, his son is calling him 
 without words, with his heart : " Papa, papa, I am 
 dying! Hold me!" Man sleeps soundly and 
 sweetly, and in the deceptive, mysterious fancies there 
 arises before him the picture of impossible happiness. 
 Awake, Man ! Your son is dead. 
 \^Man lifts his head, frightened, and rises. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Ha ! What is it ? I thought I heard someone call me. 
 [At that moment many women behind the scenes 
 hurst into a waU — the loud, long-drawn wail over 
 the dead. The Wife enters, frightfully pale.
 
 SCENE iv] THE LIFE OF MAX 223 
 
 MAN 
 
 Dead? 
 
 WIFE 
 
 Yes, he is dead. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Did he call me? 
 
 WIFE 
 
 No, he never awoke. He did n't call anyone. He 
 is dead — my son, my dear, darling boy ! 
 [She falls on her knees before Man and sobs, clasp- 
 ing his knees. Man puts his hand on her hand and, 
 turnvng to the corner where Someone in Gray stands 
 indifferently, speaks in a sobbing, but terrible voice. 
 
 MAN 
 
 You insulted a woman, scoundrel ! You killed a 
 boy! {His Wife sobs. Man softly strokes her hair 
 with his trembling hand) Don't cry, my dear, don't 
 cry. He will scoff at our tears, just as He scoffed 
 at our prayers. And you — I don't know who 
 you are — God, Devil, Fate, or Life — I curse you ! 
 [Man speaks the following in a loud, powerful voice, 
 one arm about his wife as if to protect her, the other 
 arm fiercely extended toward the Unknown. 
 man's curse 
 
 I curse everything that you have given. I curse the 
 day on which I was born. I curse the day on which 
 I shall die. I curse the whole of my life, its joys 
 and its sorrows. I curse myself. I curse my eyes, 
 my ears, my tongue. I curse my heart and my head, 
 and I fling everything back at your cruel face, a 
 senseless Fate ! Be accursed, be forever accursed ! 
 With my curses I conquer you. What else can you 
 do to me? Hurl me to the ground, I will laugh and
 
 224 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene iv 
 
 shout in your face: " Be accursed! " Seal my mouth 
 with the clamps of death, with my last thought I 
 will shout into your stupid ears: " Be accursed, be 
 accursed ! " Take my body, tear at it like a dog, 
 drag it into the darkness — I am not in it. I have 
 disappeared, but disappearing I shall repeat : " Be 
 accursed, be accursed ! " Through the woman whom 
 you have insulted, through the boy whom you have 
 killed, I convey to you the curses of Man ! 
 [He turns in silence, mth fiercely/ uplifted hand. 
 Someone in Gray listens passively to the curses. 
 The flame of the candle flickers as if blown by the 
 wind. Thus they stand for some time in tense silence 
 confronting each other, Man and Someone in Gray. 
 The wailing behind the scenes grows louder and more 
 prolonged, passing into a doleful chant. 
 
 CUETAIN
 
 THE FIFTH SCENE 
 
 THE DEATH OF MAN 
 
 An uncertain, unsteady, blinking light, so dim that 
 at first nothing is distinguishable. When the eye grows 
 accustomed to it, the following scene becomes visible. 
 
 A long, wide room with a very low celling and 
 windowless. The entrance is down a flight of steps 
 from somewhere above. The walls are bare and dirty 
 and resemble the coarse, stained hide of some huge 
 animal. Along the entire back wall up to the stairs 
 runs a bar with a top of smooth glass. This is covered 
 with bottles ftdl of differently colored liquors that are 
 arranged in regular rows. Behind a low table sits the 
 Bartender, immobile, with his hands folded across his 
 paunch. His white face is blotched with red. His 
 head is bald, and he has a large, reddish beard. He 
 wears an expression of utter calm and indifference, 
 which he maintains throughout, never changi/ng his 
 seat or his attitude. 
 
 Drunkards, both men and women, sit at small tables 
 on wooden stools. Their number seems to be aug- 
 mented by their shadows dancing on the walls and 
 ceiling. 
 
 It is one endless monotony of repulsive ugliness and 
 desolation. The men's faces resemble masks with the 
 various features disproportionately magnified or re- 
 duced: big noses, or no noses at all; eyes staring
 
 226 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene v 
 
 savagely, almost starting from their sockets, or eyes 
 narroxved to scarcely visible slits and points; huge 
 Adam's apples and tiny chins. Their hair is tangled, 
 frowzy, dirty, covering half the face on some of them. 
 Despite their differences, a horrible sameness is stamped 
 upon their faces: a greenish, ghastly tinge of decay 
 and an expression that appears grotesque in some, 
 gloomy and stupidly timid in others. 
 
 They are dressed in dull rags, with here a bony arm 
 bared, there a sharp knee, and there again a frightfully 
 sunken chest. Some are almost entirely naked. The 
 women differ little from the men, except that they are 
 even uglier and more uncouth. All have trembling 
 heads and hands and walk with an uncertain step, as 
 if on a slippery, or hilly, or sliding surface. Their 
 voices, too, are all alike, rough and hoarse. They 
 speak as uncertainly as they walk, as if their lips were 
 frozen and refused to obey. 
 
 In the centre, at a separate table, sits Man, his 
 gray, unkempt head leaning on his arms. In this posi- 
 tion he remains throughout the scene, except during 
 the one moment when he speaks. He is dressed very 
 poorly. 
 
 In the corner stands Someone in Gray, with the 
 candle burned nearly to the end. The slender blu^ 
 flame flickers, now bending, now striving upward with 
 its sharp little tongue. Its blue throws a ghastly 
 glare on His face and chin, 
 
 THE drunkards' CONVERSATION 
 
 • — Oh my ! Oh my ! 
 
 — Look, everything is swaying so strangely. 
 
 There 's nothing to rest your eyes on.
 
 SCENE v] THE LIFE OF MAN 227 
 
 — Everything is shaking as in a fever — the people, 
 the chair, the ceiling. 
 
 — Everything is floating and rocking as on waves. 
 
 — Do you hear a noise.'* I hear a kind of noise, as 
 • if an iron wheel were rumbling, or stones falling from 
 
 a mountain, large stones coming down like rain. 
 
 — It 's the ringing in your ears. 
 
 — It 's the tingling of your blood. I feel my blood. 
 It flows heavy through my veins, thick, thick, black, 
 smelling of rum. And when it gets to my heart, it 
 all falls down, and it 's terrible. 
 
 — It seems to me I see flashes of lightning. 
 
 — I see huge, red woodpiles and people burning on 
 them. It 's disgusting to smell the roasting flesh. 
 
 — Dark shadows circle around the piles. They are 
 drunk, the shadows are. Hey, invite me ! I '11 dance 
 with you. 
 
 — Oh my ! Oh my ! 
 
 — I am happy, too. Who will laugh with me? No- 
 body. So I '11 laugh by myself. {He laughs) 
 
 — A charming woman is kissing my lips. She smells 
 of musk and her teeth are like a crocodile's. She 
 wants to bite me. Get away, you dirty hussy! 
 
 — I am not a dirty hussy. I am an old pregnant 
 snake. I 've been watching a whole hour to see 
 little snakes come out of my body below and crawl 
 around. Say, don't step on my little snakes. 
 
 — Where are you going.? 
 
 — Who 's walking there? Sit down. You make the 
 whole house shake when you walk. 
 
 — I can't. I feel awful sitting down. 
 
 — I too. When I am sitting I feel a horror running 
 through my whole body.
 
 228 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene v 
 
 — So do I. Let me go. 
 
 \Three or four Drunkards reel aimlessly about, 
 getting tangled up in the chairs, 
 
 — Look what it 's doing. It 's been jumping for two 
 hours, trying to get on my knee. It just misses by 
 an inch. I drive it away and it comes back again. 
 
 — Black cockroaches are creeping under my skull 
 and buzzing. 
 
 — My brain is falling apart. I feel the gray matter 
 separating. My brain is like rotten cheese. It 
 stinks. 
 
 — There 's some sort of a corpse here. I smell it. 
 
 — Oh my ! Oh my ! 
 
 — I '11 sneak up to her to-night and cut her throat. 
 
 — The blood will flow. It 's flowing already. See 
 how red it is. 
 
 — I am constantly being followed by three men. 
 They are calling me into a dark corner of the vacant 
 lot, and they want to kill me. They are already at 
 the door. 
 
 — Who is walking on the walls and ceiling.'' 
 
 — Good Lord ! They have come to take me. 
 
 — Who? 
 
 — They. 
 
 — My tongue is getting paralyzed. I '11 cry. 
 {Cries) 
 
 — My whole body is coming out. I '11 soon be turned 
 inside out, and then I '11 be all red. 
 
 — Listen, listen. Ho ! Somebody ! A monster is 
 going for me. He 's raising his hand. Help ! Ho ! 
 
 — What is \i? Help! A spider! 
 
 — Help ! 
 
 [For some time they shout " Help! " hoarsely.
 
 SCENE v] THE LIFE OF MAN 229 
 
 — We are all drunkards. Let 's call down all the 
 people from above. It 's so disgusting up there. 
 
 — No, don't. When I leave here and go out on the 
 street, it rampages and tears about like a wild beast 
 and soon throws me off my feet. 
 
 — We 've all come here. We drink rum and it gives 
 us joy. 
 
 — It gives us fright. I shiver the whole day from 
 fright. 
 
 ^ — Fright is better than life. Who wants to return 
 to life.? 
 
 — I don't. 
 
 — I don't. I 'd rather croak here. I don't want to 
 live. 
 
 — No one ! 
 
 — Oh my ! Oh my ! 
 
 — Why does Man come here ? He drinks little and 
 just sits still. We don't want him. 
 
 — Let him go to his own house. He has a house of 
 his own. 
 
 — Fifteen rooms. 
 
 — Don't touch him. He has no place to go to any 
 more. 
 
 — He has fifteen rooms. 
 
 — They 're empty. Only rats run around and fight 
 in them. 
 
 — And his wife. 
 
 — He has n't any. Seems she died. 
 
 [During this conquers ation and the following. Old 
 Women in strange headgear enter quietly and re- 
 place unnoticeahly the Drunkards, who quietly de- 
 part. The women mingle in the conversation, hut 
 in su^h a way that no one notices it.
 
 230 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene v 
 
 CONVERSATION OF DRUNKARDS AND OLD WOMEN 
 
 — He '11 soon die, too. He can scarcely drag himself 
 along, he 's so weak. 
 
 — He has fifteen rooms. 
 
 — Listen to the beating of his heart. It 's uneven 
 and faint. It '11 soon stop beating altogether. 
 
 — Hey, Man, give us an invitation to your house. 
 You have fifteen rooms. 
 
 — It '11 soon stop beating altogether, that old, sick, 
 feeble heart of Man! 
 
 — He 's asleep, the drunken fool. It 's dreadful to 
 sleep, and yet he sleeps. He might die in his sleep. 
 
 — Hey, there, wake him up ! 
 
 — Do you remember how it used to beat when it was 
 young and strong? 
 
 [^ low laugh is heard. 
 
 — Who 's laughing? There are some here who have 
 no business to be here. 
 
 — It just seems so to you. We are all alone, only 
 we drunkards. 
 
 — I '11 go out on the street and start a fight. I 've 
 been robbed. I *m stark naked, and my skin is 
 green. 
 
 — Good evening. 
 
 — The wheel is rumbling again. Oh, Lord, they '11 
 crush me ! Help ! 
 
 [No one responds. 
 
 — Good evening. 
 
 — Do you remember his birth? I believe you were 
 there. 
 
 — I must be dying. Good Lord ! Good Lord ! 
 Who will carry me to the grave? Who will bury me? 
 I '11 be lying like a dog on the street. People will
 
 SCENE v] THE LIFE OF I\IAN 231 
 
 step over me, wagons will ride over me. They '11 
 crush me. Oh, my God! Oh, my God! (Cries) 
 
 — Permit me to congratulate you, my dear friend, 
 on the birth of your child. 
 
 — I am positive there is a mistake here. For a circle 
 to fall out of a straight line is an absurdity. I '11 
 demonstrate it on the spot. 
 
 — You 're right. 
 
 — Oh my ! Oh my ! 
 
 ■ — It 's only ignoramuses in mathematics who will 
 permit it. I won't. I won't permit it, do you hear? 
 
 — Do you remember the rosy dress and the little 
 bare neck.'' 
 
 — And the flowers? The lilies-of-the-valley on which 
 the dew never dried, and the violets, and the green 
 grass ? 
 
 — Don't touch, don't touch the flowers, girls. 
 [^Thei/ utter a low and suppressed laugh. 
 
 — Oh my ! Oh my ! 
 
 [The drunkards have all gone. Their places are 
 taken by the Old Women. The light grows steady 
 and very -faint. The figure of the Unknown is 
 sharply outlvned, and so is Man's gray head, on 
 which a faint light falls from above. 
 
 OLD women's conversation 
 
 — Good evening. 
 
 — Good evening. What a splendid night ! 
 
 — Here we are together again. How are you feeling? 
 
 — I cough a little. 
 [They laugh suppressedly. 
 
 ■ — It won't take long now. He '11 die soon. 
 
 — Look at the candle. The flame is blue and thin
 
 232 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene v 
 
 and spreading sideways. There 's no more wax. It 's 
 only the wick that 's burning. 
 • — It does n't want to go out. 
 
 — When did you ever see a flame that did want to 
 go out.f* 
 
 — Don't dispute, don't dispute. Whether it wants 
 to go out, or does n't want to go out, time is flying. 
 
 — Do you remember his motor car.'' He once almost 
 ran me down. 
 
 — And his fifteen rooms? 
 
 — I was there a little while ago. The rats almost 
 ate me up, and I caught a cold in the draught. Some- 
 one had stolen the window frames, and the wind was 
 blowing through the whole house. 
 
 — Did you try the bed in which his wife died.'' Is n't 
 it soft and nice.'' 
 
 — Yes, I went through all the rooms and let my 
 fancy play a little. They have such a pretty nursery. 
 It 's a pity the window frames are knocked out there 
 too, and the wind makes a racket with the litter on 
 the floor. And the child's bed too is so dear. Now 
 the rats have made their nest in it and breed their 
 children there. 
 
 — Such dear, naked little rats. 
 [They titter, 
 
 — And in his study the toys are lying on the table : 
 a horse without a tail, a soldier's cap, and a red- 
 nosed clown. I played a little with them. I put 
 on the soldier's cap. It was very becoming to me. 
 But there 's such a lot of dust on the things. I 
 got all dirty. 
 
 — But did you go into the drawing-room where the 
 ball was given .'' It 's so gay there.
 
 SCENE v] THE LIFE OF MAN 233 
 
 — Yes, I did. P'ancy what I saw. It was dark, the 
 windows were broken, and the wind was playing with 
 the wall-paper — 
 
 — Making a sound as of music. 
 
 — And in the darkness the guests were squatting on 
 their knees at the wall — and you should have seen 
 how they looked ! 
 
 — We know. 
 
 — And they barked : " How rich ! How magnificent ! 
 How brilliant ! How rich ! " 
 
 — You 're joking, of course. 
 
 — Of course I 'm joking. You know I have a funny 
 disposition. 
 
 — How rich ! How magnificent ! 
 
 — How gay ! 
 [Thet/ titter. 
 
 — Let 's remind him of it ! 
 
 — How rich ! How magnificent ! 
 
 — Do you remember how the music played at your 
 ball.? 
 
 — He 's going to die soon. 
 
 — The dancers circled about, circled about, and the 
 music played so gently, so beautifully. They played 
 this way. 
 
 [They make a semicircle about Man and hum the 
 tune played by the musicians at the ball. 
 
 — Let 's get up a ball. It 's so long since I Ve 
 danced. 
 
 — Imagine that this is a palace, a magnificent, an 
 exquisitely beautiful palace. 
 
 — Call the musicians. Why, you can't have a ball 
 without music. 
 
 ■ — Musicians !
 
 234 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene v 
 
 — You remember ? 
 
 {They sing. At that instant tlie three musicians 
 who played at the hall come donm the stairs. The 
 one with the violin adjusts his handkerchief on his 
 shoulder with great precision, and all three begin 
 to play, making an exaggerated effort. But the 
 notes are soft and gentle as vn a dream. 
 
 — There you have the ball. 
 
 — How rich ! How magnificent ! 
 
 — How brilliant ! 
 
 — You remember, don't you? 
 
 {Singing softly to the music, they begin to circle 
 about Man, imitating in a wild, monstrous fashion 
 the movements of the girls in the white dresses who 
 danced at the ball. At the first musical phrase they 
 circle, at tlie second they join and part gracefvlly 
 and quietly, whispering: 
 
 — Do you remember? 
 
 — You're going to die soon — do you remember? 
 
 — Do you remember? 
 
 — Do you remember? 
 
 — You're going to die soon — do you remember? 
 
 — Do you remember? 
 
 [The dance grows brisker, the movements sharper. 
 Strange, whining notes mingle into the singing of 
 the Old Women. An equally strange laugh passes 
 around the circle of dancers, suppressed and quiet at 
 first. As each one glides past Man, she flings an 
 abrupt whisper into his ear: 
 
 — Do you remember? 
 
 — Do you remember? 
 
 — How gentle ! How exquisite ! 
 
 — What balm to the soul! Do you remember?
 
 SCENE v] THE LIFE OF MAN 235 
 
 — You *re going to die soon, you 're going to die 
 soon. \ 
 
 — You 're going to die soon — 
 
 — Do you remember? 
 
 [^They circle more quickly, their movements growing 
 still more abrupt. Suddenly there is silence and they 
 halt. The musicians grow rigid with the instruments 
 in their hands. The dancers remain fixed in the 
 same position in which they were when the silence fell. 
 Man rises, straightens himself, throws hack his gray, 
 heautifid, terribly majestic head, and calls out in a 
 surprisingly loud voice, full of sorrow and wrath. 
 After each short phrase a brief but profound pause 
 follows. 
 
 MAN 
 
 Where is my squire? Where is my sword? Where 
 is my shield? I am disarmed! Come to me quick! 
 Quick ! Be accurs — 
 
 \^He sinks down on tlie chair and dies, his head fall- 
 ing backward. At the same moment the candle 
 flares up brightly and goes out. All objects are 
 buried in a dense twilight which seems to be descend- 
 ing the stairs until it gradually covers everything. 
 The face of dead Man alone remains bright. Low, 
 vague conversation, whisperings and derisive mock- 
 ery are heard from the Old Women. 
 
 SOMEONE IN GRAY 
 
 Silence! Man has died! 
 
 [Profound silence. Then the same cold, indifferent 
 
 voice repeats from a remote depth, like an echo: 
 
 Silence ! Man has died ! 
 
 [Profound silence. The twilight thickens, but the 
 
 mice-like figures of the Old Women are still seen
 
 236 THE LIFE OF MAN [scene v 
 
 standing rigid. Presently they hegvn to circle about 
 the dead body mutely, quietly; then they begin to 
 sing softly, and the musicians begin to play. The 
 gloom thickens, the music and the song grow louder 
 and louder, and the wild dance grows more unre- 
 strained, until finally it ceases to be a dance, the Old 
 Women merely whirling about the dead man arm in 
 arm, stamping their feet, screeching, and laughing 
 a itnld, prolonged laugh. Complete darkness de- 
 scends. Only the face of Man is still lighted up. 
 Then this light too is extinguished. Black i/mpene- 
 trable darkness prevails. 
 
 In the darkness are heard the Tnovements of the 
 mad dancers, their screeching and laughter, and the 
 discordant, desperately loud sounds of the music. 
 Just when they have reached their highest pitch, 
 all the sounds and noises withdraw rapidly some- 
 xvhere and die away. Stillness, 
 
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