The Lower Depths Page 7
KOSTILYOFF [to LUKA]. You listen! Get out! You leave this place—hear?
VASSILISA. Yes—get out, old man! Your tongue’s too long! And— who knows—you may be an escaped convict . . .
KOSTILYOFF. If I ever see sign of you again after to-day—well—I’ve warned you!
LUKA. You’ll call your uncle, eh? Go on—call him! Tell him you’ve caught an escaped convict—and maybe uncle’ll get a reward— perhaps all of three kopecks . . .
BUBNOFF [in the window]. What are you bargaining about? Three kopecks—for what?
LUKA. They’re threatening to sell me . . .
VASSILISA [to her husband]. Come . . .
BUBNOFF. For three kopecks? Well—look out, old man—they may even do it for one!
KOSTILYOFF [to BUBNOFF]. You have a habit of jumping up like a jack-in-the-box!
VASSILISA. The world is full of shady people and crooks—
LUKA. Hope you’ll enjoy your tea!
VASSILISA [turning]. Shut up! You rotten toadstool!
[Leaves with her husband.]
LUKA. I’m off to-night.
BUBNOFF. That’s right. Don’t outstay your welcome!
LUKA. True enough.
BUBNOFF. I know. Perhaps I’ve escaped the gallows by getting away in time . . .
LUKA. Well?
BUBNOFF. That’s true. It was this way. My wife took up with my boss. He was great at his trade—could dye a dog’s skin so that it looked like a raccoon’s—could change cat’s skin into kangaroo—muskrats, all sorts of things. Well—my wife took up with him—and they were so mad about each other that I got afraid they might poison me or something like that—so I commenced beating up my wife—and the boss beat me . . . we fought savagely! Once he tore off half my whiskers— and broke one of my ribs . . . well, then I, too, got enraged____I cracked my wife over the head with an iron yard-measure—well—and altogether it was like an honest-to-God war! And then I saw that nothing really could come of it . . . they were planning to get the best of me! So I started planning—how to kill my wife—I thought of it a whole lot . . . but I thought better of it just in time . . . and got away . . .
LUKA. That was best! Let them go on changing dogs into raccoons!
BUBNOFF. Only—the shop was in my wife’s name . . . and so I did myself out of it, you see? Although, to tell the truth, I would have drunk it away . . . I’m a hard drinker, you know . . .
LUKA. A hard drinker—oh . . .
BUBNOFF. The worst you ever met! Once I start drinking, I drink everything in sight, I’ll spend every bit of money I have—everything except my bones and my skin . . . what’s more, I’m lazy . . . it’s terrible how I hate work!
[Enter SATINE and THE ACTOR, quarreling.]
SATINE. Nonsense! You’ll go nowhere—it’s all a damned lie! Old man, what did you stuff him with all those fairytales for?
THE ACTOR. You lie! Grandfather! Tell him that he lies!—I am going away. I worked to-day—I swept the streets . . . and I didn’t have a drop of vodka. What do you think of that? Here they are—two fifteen kopeck pieces—and I’m sober!
SATINE. Why—that’s absurd! Give it to me—I’ll either drink it up—or lose it at cards . . .
THE ACTOR. Get out—this is for my journey . . .
LUKA [to SATINE]. And you—why are you trying to lead him astray?
SATINE. Tell me, soothsayer, beloved by the Gods, what’s my future going to be? I’ve gone to pieces, brother—but everything isn’t lost yet, grandfather . . . there are sharks in this world who got more brains than I!
LUKA. You’re cheerful, Constantine—and very agreeable!
BUBNOFF. Actor, come over here! [THE ACTOR crosses to window, sits down on the sill before BUBNOFF, and speaks in a low voice with him]
SATINE. You know, brother, I used to be a clever youngster. It’s nice to think of it. I was a devil of a fellow . . . danced splendidly, played on the stage, loved to amuse people . . . it was awfully gay . . .
LUKA. How did you get to be what you are?
SATINE. You’re inquisitive, old man! You want to know everything? What for?
LUKA. I want to understand the ways of men—I look at you, and I don’t understand. You’re a bold lad, Constantine, and you’re no fool . . . yet, all of a sudden . . .
SATINE. It’s prison, grandfather—I spent four years and seven months in prison—afterwards—where could I go?
LUKA. Aha! What were you there for?
SATINE. On account of a scoundrel—whom I killed in a fit of rage . . . and despair . . . and in prison I learned to play cards . . .
LUKA. You killed—because of a woman?
SATINE. Because of my own sister. . . . But look here—leave me alone! I don’t care for these cross-examinations—and all this happened a long time ago. It’s already nine years since my sister’s death. . . . Brother, she was a wonderful girl . . .
LUKA. You take life easily! And only a while ago that locksmith was here—and how he did yell!
SATINE. Kleshtch?
LUKA. Yes—”There’s no work,” he shouted; “there isn’t anything . . .”
SATINE. He’ll get used to it. What could I do?
LUKA [softly]. Look—here he comes!
[KLESHTCH walks in slowly, his head bowed low.]
SATINE. Hey, widower! Why are you so down in the mouth? What are you thinking?
KLESHTCH. I’m thinking—what’ll I do? I’ve no food—nothing— the funeral ate up all . . .
SATINE. I’ll give you a bit of advice . . . do nothing! Just be a burden to the world at large!
KLESHTCH. Go on—talk—I’d be ashamed of myself . . .
SATINE. Why—people aren’t ashamed to let you live worse than a dog. Just think . . . you stop work—so do I—so do hundreds, thousands of others—everybody—understand?—Everybody’ll quit working . . . nobody’ll do a damned thing—and then what’ll happen?
KLESHTCH. They’ll all starve to death . . .
LUKA [to SATINE]. If those are your notions, you ought to join the order of Begunes—you know—there’s some such organization . . .
SATINE. I know—grandfather—and they’re no fools . . .
[NATASHA is heard screaming behind KOSTILYOFF’s window: “What for? Stop! What have I done?”]
LUKA [worried]. Natasha! That was she crying—oh, God . . .
[From KOSTILYOFF’s room is heard noise, shuffling, breaking of crockery, and KOSTILYOFF’s shrill cry: “Ah! Heretic! Bitch!”]
VASSILISA. Wait, wait—I’ll teach her—there, there!
NATASHA. They’re beating me—killing me . . .
SATINE [shouts through the window]. Hey—you there . . .
LUKA [trembling]. Where’s Vassily—? Call Vaska—oh, God—listen, brothers . . .
THE ACTOR [running out]. I’ll find him at once!
BUBNOFF. They beat her a lot these days . . .
SATINE. Come on, old man—we’ll be witnesses . . .
LUKA [following SATINE]. Oh—witnesses—what for? Vassily—he should be called at once!
NATASHA. Sister—sister dear! Va-a-a . . .
BUBNOFF. They’ve gagged her—I’ll go and see . . .
[The noise in KOSTILYOFF’s room dies down gradually as if they had gone into the hallway. The old man’s cry: “Stop!” is heard. A door is slammed noisily, and the latter sound cuts off all the other noises sharply. Quiet on the stage. Twilight]
KLESHTCH [seated on the sledge, indifferently, rubbing his hands; mutters at first indistinguishably, then:] What then? One must live. [Louder] Must have shelter—well? There’s no shelter, no roof—nothing . . . there’s only man—man alone—no hope . . . no help . . .
[Exit slowly, his head bent. A few moments of ominous silence, then somewhere in the hallway a mass of sounds, which grows in volume and comes nearer. Individual voices are heard.]
VASSILISA. I’m her sister—let go . . .
KOSTILYOFF. What right have you . . . ?
VASSIL
ISA. Jail-bird!
SATINE. Call Vaska—quickly! Zob—hit him!
[A police whistle. THE TARTAR runs in, his right hand in a sling.]
THE TARTAR. There’s a new law for you—kill only in daytime!
[Enter ZOB, followed by MIEDVIEDIEFF.]
ZOB. I handed him a good one!
MIEDVIEDIEFF. You—how dare you fight?
THE TARTAR. What about yourself? What’s your duty?
MIEDVIEDIEFF [running after]. Stop—give back my whistle!
KOSTILYOFF [runs in]. Abram! Stop him! Hold him! He’s a murderer—he . . .
[Enter KVASHNYA and NASTYA supporting NATASHA who is disheveled. SATINE backs away, pushing away VASSILISA who is trying to attack her sister, while, near her, ALYOSHKA jumps up and down like a madman, whistles into her ear, shrieking, roaring. Also other ragged men and women.]
SATINE [to VASSILISA]. Well—you damned bitch!
VASSILISA. Let go, you jail-bird! I’ll tear you to pieces—if I have to pay for it with my own life!
KVASHNYA [leading NATASHA aside]. You—Karpovna-that’s enough—stand back—aren’t you ashamed? Or are you crazy?
MIEDVIEDIEFF [seizes SATINE]. Aha—caught at last!
SATINE. Zob—beat them up! Vaska—Vaska . . .
[They all, in a chaotic mass, struggle near the brick wall. They lead NATASHA to the right, and set her on a pile of wood. PEPEL rushes in from the hallway and, silently, with powerful movements, pushes the crowd aside.]
PEPEL. Natalia, where are you . . . you . . .
KOSTILYOFF [disappearing behind a corner]. Abram! Seize Vaska! Comrades—help us get him! The thief! The robber!
PEPEL. You—you old bastard! [Aiming a terrific blow at KOSTILYOFF. KOSTILYOFF falls so that only the upper part of his body is seen. PEPEL rushes to NATASHA]
VASSILISA. Beat Vaska! Brothers! Beat the thief!
MIEDVIEDIEFF [yells to SATINE]. Keep out of this—it’s a family affair . . . they’re relatives . . . and who are you . . .
PEPEL [to NATASHA]. What did she do to you? She used a knife?
KVASHNYA. God—what beasts! They’ve scalded the child’s feet with boiling water!
NASTYA. They overturned the samovar . . .
THE TARTAR. Maybe an accident—you must make sure—you can’t exactly tell . . .
NATASHA [half fainting]. Vassily—take me away—
VASSILISA. Good people! Come! Look! He’s dead! Murdered!
[All crowd into the hallway near KOSTILYOFF. BUBNOFF leaves the crowd and crosses to PEPEL.]
BUBNOFF [in a low voice, to PEPEL]. Vaska—the old man is done for!
PEPEL [looks at him, as though he does not understand]. Go—for help—she must be taken to the hospital . . . I’ll settle with them . . .
BUBNOFF. I say—the old man—somebody’s killed him . . .
[The noise on the stage dies out like a fire under water. Distinct, whispered exclamations: “Not really?” “Well—let’s go away, brothers!” “The devil!” “Hold on now!” “Let’s get away before the police comes!” The crowd disappears. BUBNOFF, THE TARTAR, NASTYA, and KVASHNYA, rush up to KOSTILYOFF’s body.]
VASSILISA [rises and cries out triumphantly]. Killed—my husband’s killed! Vaska killed him! I saw him! Brothers, I saw him! Well— Vasya—the police!
PEPEL [moves away from NATASHA]. Let me alone. [Looks at KOSTILYOFF; to VASSILISA] Well—are you glad? [Touches the corpse with his foot] The old bastard is dead! Your wish has been granted! Why not do the same to you? [Throws himself at her]
[SATINE and ZOB quickly overpower him, and VASSILISA disappears in the passage.]
SATINE. Come to your senses!
ZOB. Hold on! Not so fast!
VASSILISA [appearing]. Well, Vaska, dear friend? You can’t escape your fate. . . . police—Abram—whistle!
MIEDVIEDIEFF. Those devils tore my whistle off!
ALYOSHKA. Here it is! [Whistles, MIEDVIEDIEFF runs after him]
SATINE [leading PEPEL to NATASHA]. Don’t be afraid, Vaska! Killed in a row! That’s nonsense—only manslaughter—you won’t have to serve a long term . . .
VASSILISA. Hold Vaska—he killed him—I saw it!
SATINE. I, too, gave the old man a couple of blows—he was easily fixed . . . you call me as witness, Vaska!
PEPEL. I don’t need to defend myself . . . I want to drag Vassilisa into this mess—and I’ll do it—she was the one who wanted it . . . she was the one who urged me to kill him—she goaded me on . . .
NATASHA [sudden and loud]. Oh—I understand—so that’s it, Vassily? Good people! They’re both guilty—my sister and he—they’re both guilty! They had it all planned! So, Vassily, that’s why you spoke to me a while ago—so that she should overhear everything—? Good people! She’s his mistress—you know it—everybody knows it—they’re both guilty! She—she urged him to kill her husband—he was in their way—and so was I! And now they’ve maimed me . . .
PEPEL.Natalia! What’s the matter with you? What are you saying?
SATINE. Oh-hell!
VASSILISA.You lie. She lies. He—Vaska killed him . . .
NATASHA. They’re both guilty! God damn you both!
SATINE. What a mix-up! Hold on, Vassily—or they’ll ruin you between them!
ZOB. I can’t understand it—oh—what a mess!
PEPEL. Natalia! It can’t be true! Surely you don’t believe that I— with her—
SATINE. So help me God, Natasha! Just think . . .
VASSILISA [in the passage]. They’ve killed my husband—Your Excellency! Vaska Pepel, the thief, killed him, Captain! I saw it—everybody saw it . . .
NATASHA [tossing about in agony; her mind wandering]. Good people—my sister and Vaska killed him! The police—listen—this sister of mine—here—she urged, coaxed her lover—there he stands—the scoundrel! They both killed him! Put them in jail! Bring them before the judge! Take me along, too! To prison! Christ Almighty—take me to prison, too!
CURTAIN
Act IV
Same as Act I. But PEPEL’s room is no longer there, and the partition has been removed. Furthermore, there is no anvil at the place where KLESHTCH used to sit and work. In the corner, where PEPEL’s room used to be, THE TARTAR lies stretched out, rather restless, and groaning from time to time. KLESHTCH sits at one end of the table, repairing a concertina and now and then testing the stops. At the other end of the table sits SATINE, THE BARON, and NASTYA. In front of them stand a bottle of vodka, three bottles of beer, and a large loaf of black bread. THE ACTOR lies on top of the stove, shifting about and coughing. It is night. The stage is lit by a lamp in the middle of the table. Outside the wind howls.
KLESHTCH. Yes . . . he disappeared during the confusion and noise . . .
THE BARON. He vanished under the very eyes of the police—just like a puff of smoke . . .
SATINE. That’s how sinners flee from the company of the righteous!
NASTYA. He was a dear old soul! But you—you aren’t men—you’re just—oh—like rust on iron!
THE BARON [drinks]. Here’s to you, my lady!
SATINE. He was an inquisitive old fellow—yes! Nastenka here fell in love with him . . .
NASTYA. Yes! I did! Madly! It’s true! He saw everything—understood everything . . .
SATINE [laughing]. Yes, generally speaking, I would say that he was—oh—like mush to those who can’t chew . . .
THE BARON [laughing]. Right! Like plaster on a boil!
KLESHTCH. He was merciful—you people don’t know what pity means . . .
SATINE. What good can I do you by pitying you?
KLESHTCH. You needn’t have pity—but you needn’t harm or offend your fellow-beings, either!
THE TARTAR [sits up on his bunk, nursing his wounded hand carefully]. He was a fine old man. The law of life was the law of his heart. . . . And he who obeys this law, is good, while he who disregards it, perishes . . .
THE BARON. What law, Prince?
THE TARTAR. T
here are a number—different ones—you know . . .
THE BARON. Proceed!
THE TARTAR. Do not do harm unto others—such is the law!
SATINE. Oh—you mean the Penal Code, criminal and correctional, eh?
THE BARON. And also the Code of Penalties inflicted by Justices of the Peace!
THE TARTAR. No. I mean the Koran. It is the supreme law—and your own soul ought to be the Koran—yes!
KLESHTCH [testing his concertina]. It wheezes like all hell! But the Prince speaks the truth—one must live abiding by the law—by the teachings of the Gospels . . .
SATINE. Well—go ahead and do it!
THE BARON. Just try it!
THE TARTAR. The Prophet Mohammed gave to us the law. He said: “Here is the law! Do as it is written therein!” Later on a time will arrive when the Koran will have outlived its purpose—and time will bring forth its own laws —every generation will create its own . . .
SATINE. To be sure! Time passed on—and gave us—the Criminal Code . . . It’s a strong law, brother—it won’t wear off so very soon!
NASTYA [banging her glass on the table]. Why—why do I stay here—with you? I’ll go away somewhere—to the ends of the world!
THE BARON. Without any shoes, my lady?
NASTYA. I’ll go—naked, if must be—creeping on all fours!
THE BARON. That’ll be rather picturesque, my lady—on all fours!
NASTYA. Yes—and I’ll crawl if I have to—anything at all—as long as I don’t have to see your faces any longer—oh, I’m so sick of it all— the life—the people—everything!
SATINE. When you go, please take the actor along—he’s preparing to go to the very same place—he has learned that within a half mile’s distance of the end of the world there’s a hospital for diseased organons . . .
THE ACTOR [raising his head over the top of the stove]. A hospital for organisms—you fool!
SATINE. For organons—poisoned with vodka!
THE ACTOR. Yes! He will go! He will indeed! You’ll see!
THE BARON. Who is he, sir?
THE ACTOR. I!
THE BARON. Thanks, servant of the goddess—what’s her name—? The goddess of drama—tragedy—whatever is her name—?
THE ACTOR. The muse, idiot! Not the goddess—the muse!