The Lower Depths Read online

  [THE BARON comes from the kitchen, across his shoulders a wooden beam from which hang earthen pots covered with rags.]

  THE BARON. Heavier than ever!

  SATINE. It paid you to be born a Baron, eh?

  KVASHNYA [to ACTOR]. See to it that you sweep up! [Crosses to outer door, letting THE BARON pass ahead]

  THE ACTOR [climbing down from the stove]. It’s bad for me to inhale dust. [With pride] My organism is poisoned with alcohol. [Sits down on a bunk, meditating]

  SATINE. Organism—organon. . . .

  ANNA. Andrei Mitriteli. . . .

  KLESHTCH. What now?

  ANNA. Kvashnya left me some dumplings over there—you eat them!

  KLESHTCH [coming over to her]. And you—don’t you want any?

  ANNA. No. Why should I eat? You’re a workman—you need it.

  KLESHTCH. Frightened, are you? Don’t be! You’ll get all right!

  ANNA Go and eat! It’s hard on me. . . . I suppose very soon . . .

  KLESHTCH [walking away]. Never mind—maybe you’ll get well— you can never tell! [Goes into kitchen]

  THE ACTOR [loud, as if he had suddenly awakened]. Yesterday the doctor in the hospital said to me: “Your organism,” he said, “is entirely poisoned with alcohol . . .”

  SATINE [smiling]. Organon . . .

  THE ACTOR [stubbornly]. Not organon—organism!

  SATINE. Sibylline. . . .

  THE ACTOR [shaking his fist at him]. Nonsense! I’m telling you seriously . . . if the organism is poisoned . . . that means it’s bad for me to sweep the floor—to inhale the dust . . .

  SATINE. Macrobistic . . . hah!

  BUBNOFF. What are you muttering?

  SATINE. Words—and here’s another one for you—transcendentalistic . . .

  BUBNOFF. What does it mean?

  SATINE. Don’t know—I forgot . . .

  BUBNOFF. Then why did you say it?

  SATINE. Just so! I’m bored, brother, with human words—all our words. Bored! I’ve heard each one of them a thousand times surely.

  THE ACTOR. In Hamlet they say: “Words, words, words!” If s a good play. I played the grave-digger in it once. . . .

  [KLESHTCH comes from the kitchen.]

  KLESHTCH. Will you start playing with the broom?

  THE ACTOR. None of your business. [Striking his chest] Ophelia! O—remember me in thy prayers!

  [Backstage is heard a dull murmur, cries, and a police whistle. KLESHTCH sits down to work, filing screechily.]

  SATINE. I love unintelligible, obsolete words. When I was a youngster—and worked as a telegraph operator—I read heaps of books. . . .

  BUBNOFF. Were you really a telegrapher?

  SATINE. I was. There are some excellent books—and lots of curious words . . . Once I was an educated man, do you know?

  BUBNOFF. I’ve heard it a hundred times. Well, so you were! That isn’t very important! Me—well—once I was a furrier. I had my own shop—what with dyeing the fur all day long, my arms were yellow up to the elbows, brother. I thought I’d never be able ever to get clean again—that I’d go to my grave, all yellow! But look at my hands now— they’re plain dirty—that’s what!

  SATINE. Well, and what then?

  BUBNOFF. That’s all!

  SATINE. What are you trying to prove?

  BUBNOFF. Oh, well—just matching thoughts—no matter how much dye you get on yourself, it all comes off in the end—yes, yes— SATINE. Oh—my bones ache!

  THE ACTOR [sits, nursing his knees]. Education is all rot. Talent is the thing. I knew an actor—who read his parts by heart, syllable by syllable—but he played heroes in a way that . . . why—the whole theatre would rock with ecstasy!

  SATINE. Bubnoff, give me five kopecks.

  BUBNOFF. I only have two—

  THE ACTOR. I say—talent, that’s what you need to play heroes. And talent is nothing but faith in yourself, in your own powers—

  SATINE. Give me five kopecks and I’ll have faith that you’re a hero, a crocodile, or a police inspector—Kleshtch, give me five kopecks.

  KLESHTCH Go to hell! All of you!

  SATINE. What are you cursing for? I know you haven’t a kopeck in the world!

  ANNA. Andrei Mitritch—I’m suffocating—I can’t breathe—

  KLESHTCH. What shall I do?

  BUBNOFF. Open the door into the hall.

  KLESHTCH. All right. You’re sitting on the bunk, I on the floor. You change places with me, and I’ll let you open the door. I have a cold as it is.

  BUBNOFF [unconcernedly]. I don’t care if you open the door—it’s your wife who’s asking—

  KLESHTCH [morosely]. I don’t care who’s asking—

  SATINE. My head buzzes—ah—why do people have to hit each other over the heads?

  BUBNOFF. They don’t only hit you over the head, but over the rest of the body as well. [Rises] I must go and buy some thread—our bosses are late to-day—seems as if they’ve croaked. [Exits]

  [ANNA coughs; SATINE is lying down motionless, his hands folded behind his head.]

  THE ACTOR [looks about him morosely, then goes to ANNA]. Feeling bad, eh?

  ANNA. I’m choking—

  THE ACTOR. If you wish, I’ll take you into the hallway. Get up, then, come! [He helps her to rise, wraps some sort of a rag about her shoulders, and supports her toward the hall] It isn’t easy. I’m sick myself—poisoned with alcohol . . .

  [KOSTILYOFF appears in the doorway.]

  KOSTILYOFF. Going for a stroll? What a nice couple—the gallant cavalier and the lady fair!

  THE ACTOR. Step aside, you—don’t you see that we’re invalids?

  KOSTILYOFF. Pass on, please! [Hums a religious tune, glances about him suspiciously, and bends his head to the left as if listening to what is happening in PEPEL’s room. KLESHTCH is jangling his keys and scraping away with his file, and looks askance at the other] Filing?

  KLESHTCH. What?

  KOSTILYOFF. I say, are you filing? [Pause] What did I want to ask? [Quick and low] Hasn’t my wife been here?

  KLESHTCH. I didn’t see her.

  KOSTILYOFF [carefully moving toward PEPEL’s room]. You take up a whole lot of room for your two rubles a month. The bed—and your bench—yes—you take up five rubles’ worth of space, so help me God! I’ll have to put another half ruble to your rent—

  KLESHTCH. You’ll put a noose around my neck and choke me . . . you’ll croak soon enough, and still all you think of is half rubles—

  KOSTILYOFF. Why should I choke you? What would be the use? God be with you—live and prosper! But I’ll have to raise you half a ruble—I’ll buy oil for the ikon lamp, and my offering will atone for my sins, and for yours as well. You don’t think much of your sins—not much! Oh, Andrushka, you’re a wicked man! Your wife is dying because of your wickedness—no one loves you, no one respects you — your work is squeaky, jarring on every one.

  KLESHTCH [shouts]. What do you come here for—just to annoy me?

  [SATINE grunts loudly.]

  KOSTILYOFF [with a start]. God, what a noise!

  [THE ACTOR enters.]

  THE ACTOR. I’ve put her down in the hall and wrapped her up.

  KOSTILYOFF. You’re a kindly fellow. That’s good. Some day you’ll be rewarded for it.

  THE ACTOR. When?

  KOSTILYOFF. In the Beyond, little brother—there all our deeds will be reckoned up.

  THE ACTOR. Suppose you reward me right now?

  KOSTILYOFF. How can I do that?

  THE ACTOR. Wipe out half my debt.

  KOSTILYOFF. He-ho! You’re always jesting, darling—always poking fun . . . can kindliness of heart be repaid with gold? Kindliness—it’s above all other qualities. But your debt to me—remains a debt. And so you’ll have to pay me back. You ought to be kind to me, an old man, without seeking for reward!

  THE ACTOR. You’re a swindler, old man! [Goes into kitchen]

  [KLESHTCH rises and goes into the hall.]

  K
OSTILYOFF [to SATINE]. See that squeaker—? He ran away—he doesn’t like me!

  SATINE. Does anybody like you besides the Devil?

  KOSTILYOFF [laughing]. Oh—you’re so quarrelsome! But I like you all—I understand you all, my unfortunate down-trodden, useless brethren . . . [Suddenly, rapidly] Is Vaska home?

  SATINE. See for yourself—

  KOSTILYOFF [goes to the door and knocks]. Vaska!

  [THE ACTOR appears at the kitchen door, chewing something.]

  PEPEL. Who is it?

  KOSTILYOFF. It’s I—I, Vaska!

  PEPEL. What do you want?

  KOSTILYOFF [stepping aside]. Open!

  SATINE [without looking at KOSTILYOFF]. He’ll open—and she’s there—

  [THE ACTOR makes a grimace.]

  KOSTILYOFF [in a low, anxious tone]. Eh? Who’s there? What?

  SATINE. Speaking to me?

  KOSTILYOFF. What did you say?

  SATINE. Oh—nothing—I was just talking to myself—

  KOSTILYOFF. Take care, brother. Don’t carry your joking too far! [Knocks loudly at door] Vassily!

  PEPEL [opening door]. Well? What are you disturbing me for?

  KOSTILYOFF [peering into room]. I—you see—

  PEPEL. Did you bring the money?

  KOSTILYOFF I’ve something to tell you—

  PEPEL. Did you bring the money?

  KOSTILYOFF. What money? Wait—

  PEPEL. Why—the seven rubles for the watch—well?

  KOSTILYOFF. What watch, Vaska? Oh, you—

  PEPEL. Look here. Yesterday, before witnesses, I sold you a watch for ten rubles, you gave me three—now let me have the other seven. What are you blinking for? You hang around here—you disturb people—and don’t seem to know yourself what you’re after.

  KOSTILYOFF. Sh-sh! Don’t be angry, Vaska. The watch—it is—

  SATINE. Stolen!

  KOSTILYOFF [sternly]. I do not accept stolen goods—how can you imagine—

  PEPEL [taking him by the shoulder]. What did you disturb me for? What do you want?

  KOSTILYOFF. I don’t want—anything. I’ll go—if you’re in such a state—

  PEPEL. Be off, and bring the money!

  KOSTILYOFF. What ruffians! I—I—[Exits]

  THE ACTOR. What a farce!

  SATINE. That’s fine—I like it.

  PEPEL. What did he come here for?

  SATINE [laughing]. Don’t you understand? He’s looking for his wife. Why don’t you beat him up once and for all, Vaska?

  PEPEL. Why should I let such trash interfere with my life?

  SATINE. Show some brains! And then you can marry Vassilisa— and become our boss—

  PEPEL. Heavenly bliss! And you’d smash up my household and, because I’m a soft-hearted fool, you’ll drink up everything I possess. [Sits on a bunk] Old devil—woke me up—I was having such a pleasant dream. I dreamed I was fishing—and I caught an enormous trout—such a trout as you only see in dreams! I was playing him—and I was so afraid the line would snap. I had just got out the gaff—and I thought to myself—in a moment—

  SATINE. It wasn’t a trout, it was Vassilisa—

  THE ACTOR. He caught Vassilisa a long time ago.

  PEPEL [angrily]. You can all go to the devil—and Vassilisa with you—

  [KLESHTCH comes from the hall.]

  KLESHTCH. Devilishly cold!

  THE ACTOR. Why didn’t you bring Anna back? She’ll freeze, out there—

  KLESHTCH. Natasha took her into the kitchen—

  THE ACTOR. The old man will kick her out—

  KLESHTCH [sitting down to his work]. Well—Natasha will bring her in here—

  SATINE. Vassily—give me five kopecks!

  THE ACTOR [to SATINE]. Oh, you—always five kopecks—Vassya— give us twenty kopecks—

  PEPEL. I’d better give it to them now before they ask for a ruble. Here you are!

  SATINE. Gibraltar! There are no kindlier people in the world than thieves!

  KLESHTCH [morosely]. They earn their money easily—they don’t work—

  SATINE. Many earn it easily, but not many part with it so easily. Work? Make work pleasant—and maybe I’ll work too. Yes—maybe. When work’s a pleasure, life’s, too. When it’s toil, then life is a drudge. [To THE ACTOR] You, Sardanapalus! Come on!

  THE ACTOR. Let’s go, Nebuchadnezzar! I’ll get as drunk as forty thousand topers!

  [They leave.]

  PEPEL [yawning]. Well, how’s your wife?

  KLESHTCH. It seems as if soon — [Pause]

  PEPEL. Now I look at you—seems to me all that filing and scraping of yours is useless.

  KLESHTCH. Well—what else can I do?

  PEPEL. Nothing.

  KLESHTCH. How can I live?

  PEPEL. People manage, somehow.

  KLESHTCH. Them? Call them people? Muck and dregs—that’s what they are! I’m a workman— I’m ashamed even to look at them. I’ve slaved since I was a child. . . . D’you think I shan’t be able to tear myself away from here? I’ll crawl out of here, even if I have to leave my skin behind—but crawl out I will! Just wait . . . my wife’ll die . . . I’ve lived here six months, and it seems like six years.

  PEPEL. Nobody here’s any worse off than you . . . say what you like . . .

  KLESHTCH. No worse is right. They’ve neither honor nor conscience.

  PEPEL [indifferently]. What good does it do—honor or conscience? Can you get them on their feet instead of on their uppers—through honor and conscience? Honor and conscience are needed only by those who have power and energy . . .

  BUBNOFF [coming back]. Oh—I’m frozen . . .

  PEPEL. Bubnoff! Got a conscience?

  BUBNOFF. What? A conscience?

  PEPEL. Exactly!

  BUBNOFF. What do I need a conscience for? I’m not rich.

  PEPEL. Just what I said: honor and conscience are for the rich— right! And Kleshtch is upbraiding us because we haven’t any!

  BUBNOFF. Why—did he want to borrow some of it?

  PEPEL. No—he has plenty of his own . . .

  BUBNOFF. Oh—are you selling it? You won’t sell much around here. But if you had some old boxes, I’d buy them—on credit . . .

  PEPEL [didactically]. You’re a jackass, Andrushka! On the subject of conscience you ought to hear Satine—or the Baron . . .

  KLESHTCH. I’ve nothing to talk to them about!

  PEPEL. They have more brains than you—even if they’re drunkards . . .

  BUBNOFF. He who can be drunk and wise at the same time is doubly blessed . . .

  PEPEL. Satine says every man expects his neighbor to have a conscience, but—you see—it isn’t to any one’s advantage to have one— that’s a fact.

  [NATASHA enters, followed by LUKA who carries a stick in his hand, a bundle on his back, a kettle and a teapot slung from his belt.]

  LUKA. How are you, honest folks?

  PEPEL [twisting his mustache]. Aha—Natasha!

  BUBNOFF [to LUKA]. I was honest—up to spring before last.

  NATASHA. Here’s a new lodger . . .

  LUKA. Oh, it’s all the same to me. Crooks—I don’t mind them, either. For my part there’s no bad flea—they’re all black—and they all jump . . . Well, dearie, show me where I can stow myself.

  NATASHA [pointing to kitchen door]. Go in there, grand-dad.

  LUKA. Thanks, girlie! One place is like another—as long as an old fellow keeps warm, he keeps happy . . .

  PEPEL. What an amusing old codger you brought in, Natasha!

  NATASHA. A hanged sight more interesting than you! . . . Andrei, your wife’s in the kitchen with us—come and fetch her after a while . . .

  KLESHTCH. All right—I will . . .

  NATASHA. And be a little more kind to her—you know she won’t last much longer.

  KLESHTCH. I know . . .

  NATASHA. Knowing won’t do any good—it’s terrible—dying—don’t you understand?

  PEPEL. Well—l
ook at me—I’m not afraid . . .

  NATASHA. Oh—you’re a wonder, aren’t you?

  BUBNOFF [whistling]. Oh—this thread’s rotten . . .

  PEPEL. Honestly, I’m not afraid! I’m ready to die right now. Knife me to the heart—and I’ll die without making a sound . . . even gladly— from such a pure hand . . .

  NATASHA [going out] Spin that yarn for some one else!

  BUBNOFF. Oh—that thread is rotten—rotten—

  NATASHA [at hallway door]. Don’t forget your wife, Andrei!

  KLESHTCH. All right.

  PEPEL. She’s a wonderful girl!

  BUBNOFF. She’s all right.

  PEPEL. What makes her so curt with me? Anyway—she’ll come to no good here . . .

  BUBNOFF. Through you—sure!

  PEPEL. Why through me? I feel sorry for her . . .

  BUBNOFF. As the wolf for the lamb!

  PEPEL. You lie! I feel very sorry for her . . . very . . . very sorry! She has a tough life here—I can see that . . .

  KLESHTCH. Just wait till Vassilisa catches you talking to her!

  BUBNOFF. Vassilisa? She won’t give up so easily what belongs to her—she’s a cruel woman!

  PEPEL [stretching himself on the bunk]. You two prophets can go to hell!

  KLESHTCH. Just wait—you’ll see!

  LUKA [singing in the kitchen]. “In the dark of the night the way is black. . .”

  KLESHTCH. Another one who yelps!

  PEPEL. It’s dreary! Why do I feel so dreary? You live—and everything seems all right. But suddenly a cold chill goes through you—and then everything gets dreary . . .

  BUBNOFF. Dreary? Hm-hm—

  PEPEL. Yes—yes—

  LUKA [sings], “The way is black . . .”

  PEPEL. Old fellow! Hey there!

  LUKA [looking from kitchen door]. You call me?

  PEPEL. Yes. Don’t sing!

  LUKA [coming in]. You don’t like it?

  PEPEL. When people sing well I like it—

  LUKA. In other words—I don’t sing well?

  PEPEL. Evidently!

  LUKA. Well, well—and I thought I sang well. That’s always the way: a man imagines there’s one thing he can do well, and suddenly he finds out that other people don’t think so . . .

  PEPEL [laughs]. That’s right . . .

  BUBNOFF. First you say you feel dreary—and then you laugh!

  PEPEL. None of your business, raven!

  LUKA. Who do they say feels dreary?