The Lower Depths Read online

  NATASHA. Tell me—does anybody live happily? It’s hard for all of us—I can see that . . .

  KLESHTCH [who until this moment has sat motionless and indifferent, jumps up suddenly]. For all? You lie! Not for all! If it were so—all right! Then it wouldn’t hurt—yes!

  BUBNOFF. What in hell’s bit you? Just listen to him yelping!

  KLESHTCH lies down again and grunts.]

  THE BARON. Well—I’d better go and make my peace with Nastinka—if I don’t, she won’t treat me to vodka . . .

  BUBNOFF. Hm—people love to lie . . . with Nastka—I can see the reason why. She’s used to painting that mutt of hers—and now she wants to paint her soul as well . . . put rouge on her soul, eh? But the others—why do they? Take Luka for instance—he lies a lot . . . and what does he get out of it? He’s an old fellow, too—why does he do it?

  THE BARON [smiling and walking away]. All people have drabcolored souls—and they like to brighten them up a bit . . .

  LUKA [appearing from round the corner]. You, sir, why do you tease the girl? Leave her alone—let her cry if it amuses her . . . she weeps for her own pleasure—what harm is it to you?

  THE BARON. Nonsense, old man! She’s a nuisance. Raoul to-day, Gaston to-morrow—always the same old yarn, though! Still—I’ll go and make up with her. [Leaves]

  LUKA. That’s right—go—and be nice to her. Being nice to people never does them any harm . . .

  NATASHA. You’re so good, little father—why are you so good?

  LUKA. Good, did you say? Well—call it that! [Behind the brick wall is heard soft singing and the sounds of a concertina] Some one has to be kind, girl—some one must pity people! Christ pitied everybody—and he said to us: “Go and do likewise!” I tell you—if you pity a man when he most needs it, good comes of it. Why—I used to be a watchman on the estate of an engineer near Tomsk—all right—the house was right in the middle of a forest—lovely place—winter came—and I remained all by myself. Well—one night I heard a nosie—

  NATASHA. Thieves?

  LUKA. Exactly! Thieves creeping in! I took my gun—I went out. I looked and saw two of them opening a window—and so busy that they didn’t even see me. I yell: “Hey there—get out of here!” And they turn on me with their axes—I warn them to stand back, or I’d shoot—and as I speak, I keep on covering them with my gun, first the one, then the other—they go down on their knees, as if to implore me for mercy. And by that time I was furious—because of those axes, you see—and so I say to them: “I was chasing you, you scoundrels—and you didn’t go. Now you go and break off some stout branches!”—and they did so—and I say: “Now—one of you lie down and let the other one flog him!” So they obey me and flog each other—and then they begin to implore me again. “Grandfather,” they say, “for God’s sake give us some bread! We’re hungry!” There’s thieves for you, my dear! [Laughs] And with an ax, too! Yes—honest peasants, both of them! And I say to them, “You should have asked for bread straight away!” And they say: “We got tired of asking—you beg and beg—and nobody gives you a crumb—it hurts!” So they stayed with me all that winter—one of them, Stepan, would take my gun and go shooting in the forest—and the other, Yakoff, was ill most of the time—he coughed a lot . . . and so the three of us together looked after the house . . . then spring came . . . “Goodbye, grandfather,” they said—and they went away—back home to Russia . . .

  NATASHA. Were they escaped convicts?

  LUKA. That’s just what they were—escaped convicts—from a Siberian prison camp . . . honest peasants! If I hadn’t felt sorry for them—they might have killed me—or maybe worse—and then there would have been trial and prison and afterwards Siberia—what’s the sense of it? Prison teaches no good—and Siberia doesn’t either—but another human being can . . . yes, a human being can teach another one kindness—very simply! [Pause]

  BUBNOFF. Hm—yes—I, for instance, don’t know how to lie . . . why—as far as I’m concerned, I believe in coming out with the whole truth and putting it on thick . . . why fuss about it?

  KLESHTCH [again jumps up as if his clothes were on fire, and screams]. What truth? Where is there truth? [Tearing at his ragged clothes] Here’s truth for you! No work! No strength! That’s the only truth! Shelter—there’s no shelter! You die—that’s the truth! Hell! What do I want with the truth? Let me breathe! Why should I be blamed? What do I want with truth? To live—Christ Almighty!—they won’t let you live—and that’s another truth!

  BUBNOFF. He’s mad!

  LUKA. Dear Lord . . . listen to me, brother—

  KLESHTCH [trembling with excitement]. They say: there’s truth! You, old man, try to console every one . . . I tell you—I hate every one! And there’s your truth—God curse it—understand? I tell you—God curse it!

  [Rushes away round the corner, turning as he goes.]

  LUKA. Ah—how excited he got! Where did he run off to?

  NATASHA. He’s off his head . . .

  BUBNOFF. God—don’t he say a whole lot, though? As if he was playing drama—he gets those fits often . . . he isn’t used to life yet . . .

  PEPEL [comes slowly round the corner]. Peace on all this honest gathering! Well, Luka, you wily old fellow—still telling them stories?

  LUKA. You should have heard how that fellow carried on!

  PEPEL. Kleshtch—wasn’t “it? What’s wrong with him? He was running like one possessed!

  LUKA. You’d do the same if your own heart were breaking!

  PEPEL [sitting down]. I don’t like him . . . he’s got such a nasty, bad temper—and so proud! [Imitating KLESHTCH] “I’m a workman!” And he thinks everyone’s beneath him. Go on working if you feel like it—nothing to be so damned haughty about! If work is the standard—a horse can give us points—pulls like hell and says nothing! Natasha—are your folks at home?

  NATASHA. They went to the cemetery—then to night service . . .

  PEPEL. So that’s why you’re free for once—quite a novelty!

  LUKA [to BUBNOFF, thoughtfully]. There—you say—truth! Truth doesn’t always heal a wounded soul. For instance, I knew of a man who believed in a land of righteousness . . .

  BUBNOFF. In what?

  LUKA. In a land of righteousness. He said: “Somewhere on this earth there must be a righteous land—and wonderful people live there—good people! They respect each other, help each other, and everything is peaceful and good!” And so that man—who was always searching for this land of righteousness—he was poor and lived miserably—and when things got to be so bad with him that it seemed there was nothing else for him to do except lie down and die—even then he never lost heart—but he’d just smile and say: “Never mind! I can stand it! A little while longer—and I’ll have done with this life—and I’ll go in search of the righteous land!”—it was his one happiness—the thought of that land . . .

  PEPEL. Well? Did he go there?

  BUBNOFF. Where? Ho-ho!

  LUKA. And then to this place—in Siberia, by the way—there came a convict—a learned man with books and maps—yes, a learned man who knew all sorts of things—and the other man said to him: “Do me a favor—show me where is the land of righteousness and how I can get there.” At once the learned man opened his books, spread out his maps, and looked and looked and he said—no—he couldn’t find this land anywhere . . . everything was correct—all the lands on earth were marked—but not this land of righteousness . . .

  PEPEL [in a low voice]. Well? Wasn’t there a trace of it?

  [BUBNOFF roars with laughter.]

  NATASHA. Wait . . . well, little father?

  LUKA. The man wouldn’t believe it. . . . “It must exist,” he said, “look carefully. Otherwise,” he says, “your books and maps are of no use if there’s no land of righteousness.” The learned man was offended. “My plans,” he said, “are correct. But there exists no land of righteousness anywhere.” Well, then the other man got angry. He’d lived and lived and suffered and suffered, a
nd had believed all the time in the existence of this land—and now, according to the plans, it didn’t exist at all. He felt robbed! And he said to the learned man: “Ah—you scum of the earth! You’re not a learned man at all—but just a damned cheat!”—and he gave him a good wallop in the eye—then another one . . . [After a moment’s silence] And then he went home and hanged himself!

  [All are silent LUKA, smiling, looks at PEPEL and NATASHA.]

  PEPEL [low-voiced]. To hell with this story—it isn’t very cheerful . . .

  NATASHA. He couldn’t stand the disappointment . . .

  BUBNOFF [sullen]. Ah—it’s nothing but a fairytale . . .

  PEPEL. Well—there is the righteous land for you—doesn’t exist, it seems . . .

  NATASHA. I’m sorry for that man . . .

  BUBNOFF. All a story—ho-ho!—land of righteousness—what an idea! [Exits through window]

  LUKA [pointing to window]. He’s laughing! [Pause] Well, children, God be with you! I’ll leave you soon . . .

  PEPEL. Where are you going to?

  LUKA. To the Ukraine—I heard they discovered a new religion there—I want to see—yes! People are always seeking—they always want something better—God grant them patience!

  PEPEL. You think they’ll find it?

  LUKA. The people? They will find it! He who seeks, will find! He who desires strongly, will find!

  NATASHA. If only they could find something better—invent something better . . .

  LUKA. They’re trying to! But we must help them girl—we must respect them . . .

  NATASHA. How can I help them? I am helpless myself!

  PEPEL [determined]. Again—listen—I’ll speak to you again, Natasha—here—before him—he knows everything . . . run away with me?

  NATASHA. Where? From one prison to another?

  PEPEL. I told you—I’m through with being a thief, so help me God! I’ll quit! If I say so, I’ll do it! I can read and write—I’ll work—He’s been telling me to go to Siberia on my own hook—let’s go there together, what do you say? Do you think I’m not disgusted with my life? Oh—Natasha—I know . . . I see . . . I console myself with the thought that there are lots of people who are honored and respected—and who are bigger thieves than I! But what good is that to me? It isn’t that I repent . . . I’ve no conscience . . . but I do feel one thing: One must live differently. One must live a better life . . . one must be able to respect one’s own self . . .

  LUKA. That’s right, friend! May God help you! It’s true! A man must respect himself!

  PEPEL. I’ve been a thief from childhood on. Everybody always called me “Vaska—the thief—the son of a thief!” Oh—very well then—I am a thief . . . just imagine—now, perhaps, I’m a thief out of spite—perhaps I’m a thief because no one ever called me anything different. . . . Well, Natasha—?

  NATASHA [sadly]. Somehow I don’t believe in words—and I’m restless to-day—my heart is heavy . . . as if I were expecting something . . . it’s a pity, Vassily, that you talked to me to-day . . .

  PEPEL.When should I? It isn’t the first time I speak to you . . .

  NATASHA. And why should I go with you? I don’t love you so very much—sometimes I like you—and other times the mere sight of you makes me sick . . . it seems—no—I don’t really love you . . . when one really loves, one sees no fault. . . . But I do see . . .

  PEPEL. Never mind—you’ll love me after a while! I’ll make you care for me . . . if you’ll just say yes! For over a year I’ve watched you . . . you’re a decent girl . . . you’re kind—you’re reliable—I’m very much in love with you . . .

  [VASSILISA, in her best dress, appears at window and listens.]

  NATASHA. Yes—you love me—but how about my sister . . . ?

  PEPEL [confused]. Well, what of her? There are plenty like her . . . LUKA. You’ll be all right, girl! If there’s no bread, you have to eat weeds . . .

  PEPEL [gloomily]. Please—feel a little sorry for me! My life isn’t all roses—it’s a hell of a life . . . little happiness in it . . . I feel as if a swamp were sucking me under . . . and whatever I try to catch and hold on to, is rotten . . . it breaks . . . Your sister—oh—I thought she was different . . . if she weren’t so greedy after money . . . I’d have done anything for her sake, if she were only all mine . . . but she must have someone else . . . and she has to have moneys and freedom . . . because she doesn’t like the straight and narrow . . . she can’t help me. But you’re like a young fir-tree . . . you bend, but you don’t break . . .

  LUKA. Yes—go with him, girl, go! He’s a good lad—he’s all right! Only tell him every now and then that he’s a good lad so that he won’t forget it—and he’ll believe you. Just you keep on telling him “Vasya, you’re a good man—don’t you forget it!” Just think, dear, where else could you go except with him? Your sister is a savage beast . . . and as for her husband, there’s little to say of him. He’s rotten beyond words . . . and all this life here, where will it get you? But this lad is strong . . .

  NATASHA. Nowhere to go—I know—I thought of it. The only thing is—I’ve no faith in anybody—and there’s no place for me to turn to . . .

  PEPEL. Yes, there is! But I won’t let you go that way—I’d rather cut your throat!

  NATASHA [smiling]. There—I’m not his wife yet—and he talks already of killing me!

  PEPEL [puts his arms around her]. Come, Natasha! Say yes!

  NATASHA [holding him close]. But I’ll tell you one thing, Vassily— I swear it before God . . . the first time you strike me or hurt me any other way, I’ll have no pity on myself . . . I’ll either hang myself . . . or . . .

  PEPEL.May my hand wither if ever I touch you!

  LUKA. Don’t doubt him, dear! He needs you more than you need him!

  VASSILISA [from the window]. So now they’re engaged! Love and advice!

  NATASHA. They’ve come back—oh, God—they saw—oh, Vassily . . .

  PEPEL. Why are you frightened? Nobody’ll dare touch you now! VASSILISA. Don’t be afraid, Natalia! He won’t beat you . . . he don’t know how to love or how to beat . . . I know!

  LUKA [in a low voice]. Rotten old hag—like a snake in the grass . . . VASSILISA. He dares only with the word!

  KOSTILYOFF [enters]. Natashka! What are you doing here, you parasite? Gossiping? Kicking about your family? And the samovar not ready? And the table not cleared?

  NATASHA [going out]. I thought you were going to church . . . ?

  KOSTILYOFF. None of your business what we intended doing! Mind your own affairs—and do what you’re told!

  PEPEL. Shut up, you! She’s no longer your servant! Don’t go, Natalia—don’t do a thing!

  NATASHA. Stop ordering me about—you’re commencing too soon! [Leaves]

  PEPEL [to KOSTILYOFF]. That’s enough. You’ve used her long enough—now she’s mine!

  KOSTILYOFF. Yours? When did you buy her—and for how much?

  [VASSILISA roars with laughter.]

  LUKA. Go away, Vasya!

  PEPEL. Don’t laugh, you fools—or first thing you know I’ll make you cry!

  VASSILISA. Oh, how terrible! Oh—how you trighten me!

  LUKA. Vassily—go away! Don’t you see—she’s goading you on . . . ridiculing you, don’t you understand . . . ?

  PEPEL. Yes . . . You lie, lie! You won’t get what you want!

  VASSILISA. Nor will I get what I don’t want, Vasya!

  PEPEL [shaking his fist at her]. We’ll see . . . [Exits]

  VASSILISA [disappearing through window]. I’ll arrange some wedding for you . . .

  KOSTILYOFF [crossing to LUKA]. Well, old man, how’s everything?

  LUKA. All right!

  KOSTILYOFF. You’re going away, they say—?

  LUKA. Soon.

  KOSTILYOFF. Where to?

  LUKA. I’ll follow my nose . . .

  KOSTILYOFF. Tramping, eh? Don’t like stopping in one place all the time, do you?

  LUKA. Even water
won’t pass beneath a stone that’s sunk too firmly in the ground, they say . . .

  KOSTILYOFF. That’s true for a stone. But man must settle in one place. Men can’t live like cockroaches, crawling about wherever they want. . . . A man must stick to one place—and not wander about aimlessly . . .

  LUKA. But suppose his home is wherever he hangs his hat?

  KOSTILYOFF. Why, then—he’s a vagabond—useless . . . a human being must be of some sort of use—he must work . . .

  LUKA That’s what you think, eh?

  KOSTILYOFF. Yes—sure . . . just look! What’s a vagabond? A strange fellow . . . unlike all others. If he’s a real pilgrim then he’s some good in the world . . . perhaps he discovered a new truth. Well—but not every truth is worth while. Let him keep it to himself and shut up about it! Or else—let him speak in a way which no one can understand . . . don’t let him interfere . . . don’t let him stir up people without cause! It’s none of his business how other people live! Let him follow his own righteous path . . . in the woods—or in a monastery—away from everybody! He mustn’t interfere—nor condemn other people—but pray— pray for all of us—for all the world’s sins—for mine—for yours— for everybody’s. To pray—that’s why he forsakes the world’s turmoil! That’s so! [Pause] But you—what sort of a pilgrim are you—? An honest person must have a passport . . . all honest people have passports . . . yes . . . !

  LUKA. In this world there are people—and also just plain men . . .

  KOSTILYOFF. Don’t coin wise sayings! Don’t give me riddles! I’m as clever as you . . . what’s the difference—people and men?

  LUKA. What riddle is there? I say—there’s sterile and there’s fertile ground . . . whatever you sow in it, grows . . . that’s all . . .

  KOSTILYOFF. What do you mean?

  LUKA. Take yourself for instance . . . if the Lord God himself said to you: “Mikhailo, be a man!”—it would be useless—nothing would come of it—you’re doomed to remain just as you are . . .

  KOSTILYOFF. Oh—but do you realize that my wife’s uncle is a policeman, and that if I . . .

  VASSILISA [coming in]. Mikhail Ivanitch—come and have your tea . . .