Selected early plays Page 9

MERCHUTKINA. I've been there a good many times these five months, and they wouldn't even look at my petition. I'd given up all hopes, but, thanks to my son-in-law, Boris Matveyitch, I thought of coming to you. "You go, mother," he says, "and apply to Mr. Shipuchin, he's an influential man and can do anything." Help me, your excellency!

  SHIPUCHIN. We can't do anything for you, Mrs. Merchutkina. You must understand that your husband, so far as I can gather, was in the employ of the Army Medical Department, while this is a private, commercial concern, a bank. Don't you understand that?

  MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, I can produce a doctor's certificate of my husband's illness. Here it is, just look at it....

  SHIPUCHIN. [Irritated] That's all right; I quite believe you, but it's not our business. [Behind the scene, TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA'S laughter is heard, then a man's. SHIPUCHIN glances at the door] She's disturbing the employees. [To MERCHUTKINA] It's strange and it's even silly. Surely your husband knows where you ought to apply?

  MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, I don't let him know anything. He just cried out: "It isn't your business! Get out of this!" And...

  SHIPUCHIN. Madam, I repeat, your husband was in the employ of the Army Medical Department, and this is a bank, a private, commercial concern.

  MERCHUTKINA. Yes, yes, yes.... I understand, my dear. In that case, your excellency, just order them to pay me 15 roubles! I don't mind taking that to be going on with.

  SHIPUCHIN. [Sighs] Ouf!

  KHIRIN. Andrey Andreyevitch, I'll never finish the report at this rate!

  SHIPUCHIN. One moment. [To MERCHUTKINA] I can't get any sense out of you. But do understand that your taking this business here is as absurd as if you took a divorce petition to a chemist's or into a gold assay office. [Knock at the door. The voice of TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA is heard, "Can I come in, Andrey?" SHIPUCHIN shouts] Just wait one minute, dear! [To MERCHUTKINA] What has it got to do with us if you haven't been paid? As it happens, madam, this is an anniversary to-day, we're busy... and somebody may be coming here at any moment.... Excuse me....

  MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, have pity on me, an orphan! I'm a weak, defenceless woman.... I'm tired to death.... I'm having trouble with my lodgers, and on account of my husband, and I've got the house to look after, and my son-in-law is out of work....

  SHIPUCHIN. Mrs. Merchutkina, I... No, excuse me, I can't talk to you! My head's even in a whirl.... You are disturbing us and making us waste our time. [Sighs, aside] What a business, as my name's Shipuchin! [To KHIRIN] Kusma Nicolaievitch, will you please explain to Mrs. Merchutkina. [Waves his hand and goes out into public department.]

  KHIRIN. [Approaching MERCHUTKINA, angrily] What do you want?

  MERCHUTKINA. I'm a weak, defenceless woman.... I may look all right, but if you were to take me to pieces you wouldn't find a single healthy bit in me! I can hardly stand on my legs, and I've lost my appetite. I drank my coffee to-day and got no pleasure out of it.

  KHIRIN. I ask you, what do you want?

  MERCHUTKINA. Tell them, my dear, to give me 15 roubles, and a month later will do for the rest.

  KHIRIN. But haven't you been told perfectly plainly that this is a bank!

  MERCHUTKINA. Yes, yes.... And if you like I can show you the doctor's certificate.

  KHIRIN. Have you got a head on your shoulders, or what?

  MERCHUTKINA. My dear, I'm asking for what's mine by law. I don't want what isn't mine.

  KHIRIN. I ask you, madam, have you got a head on your shoulders, or what? Well, devil take me, I haven't any time to talk to you! I'm busy.... [Points to the door] That way, please!

  MERCHUTKINA. [Surprised] And where's the money?

  KHIRIN. You haven't a head, but this [Taps the table and then points to his forehead.]

  MERCHUTKINA. [Offended] What? Well, never mind, never mind.... You can do that to your own wife, but I'm the wife of a civil servant.... You can't do that to me!

  KHIRIN. [Losing his temper] Get out of this!

  MERCHUTKINA. No, no, no... none of that!

  KHIRIN. If you don't get out this second, I'll call for the hall-porter! Get out! [Stamping.]

  MERCHUTKINA. Never mind, never mind! I'm not afraid! I've seen the like of you before! Miser!

  KHIRIN. I don't think I've ever seen a more awful woman in my life.... Ouf! It's given me a headache.... [Breathing heavily] I tell you once more... do you hear me? If you don't get out of this, you old devil, I'll grind you into powder! I've got such a character that I'm perfectly capable of laming you for life! I can commit a crime!

  MERCHUTKINA. I've heard barking dogs before. I'm not afraid. I've seen the like of you before.

  KHIRIN. [In despair] I can't stand it! I'm ill! I can't! [Sits down at his desk] They've let the Bank get filled with women, and I can't finish my report! I can't.

  MERCHUTKINA. I don't want anybody else's money, but my own, according to law. You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Sitting in a government office in felt boots....

  [Enter SHIPUCHIN and TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA.]

  TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Following her husband] We spent the evening at the Berezhnitskys. Katya was wearing a sky-blue frock of foulard silk, cut low at the neck.... She looks very well with her hair done over her head, and I did her hair myself.... She was perfectly fascinating....

  SHIPUCHIN. [Who has had enough of it already] Yes, yes... fascinating.... They may be here any moment....

  MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency!

  SHIPUCHIN. [Dully] What else? What do you want?

  MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency! [Points to KHIRIN] This man... this man tapped the table with his finger, and then his head.... You told him to look after my affair, but he insults me and says all sorts of things. I'm a weak, defenceless woman....

  SHIPUCHIN. All right, madam, I'll see to it... and take the necessary steps.... Go away now... later on! [Aside] My gout's coming on!

  KHIRIN. [In a low tone to SHIPUCHIN] Andrey Andreyevitch, send for the hall-porter and have her turned out neck and crop! What else can we do?

  SHIPUCHIN. [Frightened] No, no! She'll kick up a row and we aren't the only people in the building.

  MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency.

  KHIRIN. [In a tearful voice] But I've got to finish my report! I won't have time! I won't!

  MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, when shall I have the money? I want it now.

  SHIPUCHIN. [Aside, in dismay] A re-mark-ab-ly beastly woman! [Politely] Madam, I've already told you, this is a bank, a private, commercial concern.

  MERCHUTKINA. Be a father to me, your excellency.... If the doctor's certificate isn't enough, I can get you another from the police. Tell them to give me the money!

  SHIPUCHIN. [Panting] Ouf!

  TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [To MERCHUTKINA] Mother, haven't you already been told that you're disturbing them? What right have you?

  MERCHUTKINA. Mother, beautiful one, nobody will help me. All I do is to eat and drink, and just now I didn't enjoy my coffee at all.

  SHIPUCHIN. [Exhausted] How much do you want?

  MERCHUTKINA. 24 roubles 36 copecks.

  SHIPUCHIN. All right! [Takes a 25-rouble note out of his pocket-book and gives it to her] Here are 25 roubles. Take it and... go!

  [KHIRIN coughs angrily.]

  MERCHUTKINA. I thank you very humbly, your excellency. [Hides the money.]

  TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Sits by her husband] It's time I went home.... [Looks at watch] But I haven't done yet.... I'll finish in one minute and go away.... What a time we had! Yes, what a time! We went to spend the evening at the Berezhnitskys.... It was all right, quite fun, but nothing in particular.... Katya's devoted Grendilevsky was there, of course.... Well, I talked to Katya, cried, and induced her to talk to Grendilevsky and refuse him. Well, I thought, everything's, settled the best possible way; I've quieted mamma down, saved Katya, and can be quiet myself.... What do you think? Katya and I were going along the avenue, just before supper, and suddenly... [Excitedly] And suddenly we heard a shot.... No, I can't talk about
it calmly! [Waves her handkerchief] No, I can't!

  SHIPUCHIN. [Sighs] Ouf!

  TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Weeps] We ran to the summer-house, and there... there poor Grendilevsky was lying... with a pistol in his hand....

  SHIPUCHIN. No, I can't stand this! I can't stand it! [To MERCHUTKINA] What else do you want?

  MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, can't my husband go back to his job?

  TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Weeping] He'd shot himself right in the heart... here.... And the poor man had fallen down senseless.... And he was awfully frightened, as he lay there... and asked for a doctor. A doctor came soon... and saved the unhappy man....

  MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, can't my husband go back to his job?

  SHIPUCHIN. No, I can't stand this! [Weeps] I can't stand it! [Stretches out both his hands in despair to KHIRIN] Drive her away! Drive her away, I implore you!

  KHIRIN. [Goes up to TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA] Get out of this!

  SHIPUCHIN. Not her, but this one... this awful woman.... [Points] That one!

  KHIRIN. [Not understanding, to TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA] Get out of this! [Stamps] Get out!

  TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. What? What are you doing? Have you taken leave of your senses?

  SHIPUCHIN. It's awful? I'm a miserable man! Drive her out! Out with her!

  KHIRIN. [To TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA] Out of it! I'll cripple you! I'll knock you out of shape! I'll break the law!

  TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Running from him; he chases her] How dare you! You impudent fellow! [Shouts] Andrey! Help! Andrey! [Screams.]

  SHIPUCHIN. [Chasing them] Stop! I implore you! Not such a noise? Have pity on me!

  KHIRIN. [Chasing MERCHUTKINA] Out of this! Catch her! Hit her! Cut her into pieces!

  SHIPUCHIN. [Shouts] Stop! I ask you! I implore you!

  MERCHUTKINA. Little fathers... little fathers! [Screams] Little fathers!...

  TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Shouts] Help! Help!... Oh, oh... I'm sick, I'm sick! [Jumps on to a chair, then falls on to the sofa and groans as if in a faint.]

  KHIRIN. [Chasing MERCHUTKINA] Hit her! Beat her! Cut her to pieces!

  MERCHUTKINA. Oh, oh... little fathers, it's all dark before me! Ah! [Falls senseless into SHIPUCHIN'S arms. There is a knock at the door; a VOICE announces THE DEPUTATION] The deputation... reputation... occupation...

  KHIRIN. [Stamps] Get out of it, devil take me! [Turns up his sleeves] Give her to me: I may break the law!

  [A deputation of five men enters; they all wear frockcoats. One carries the velvet-covered address, another, the loving-cup. Employees look in at the door, from the public department. TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA on the sofa, and MERCHUTKINA in SHIPUCHIN'S arms are both groaning.]

  ONE OF THE DEPUTATION. [Reads aloud] "Deeply respected and dear Andrey Andreyevitch! Throwing a retrospective glance at the past history of our financial administration, and reviewing in our minds its gradual development, we receive an extremely satisfactory impression. It is true that in the first period of its existence, the inconsiderable amount of its capital, and the absence of serious operations of any description, and also the indefinite aims of this bank, made us attach an extreme importance to the question raised by Hamlet, 'To be or not to be,' and at one time there were even voices to be heard demanding our liquidation. But at that moment you become the head of our concern. Your knowledge, energies, and your native tact were the causes of extraordinary success and widespread extension. The reputation of the bank... [Coughs] reputation of the bank..."

  MERCHUTKINA. [Groans] Oh! Oh!

  TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Groans] Water! Water!

  THE MEMBER OF THE DEPUTATION. [Continues] The reputation [Coughs]... the reputation of the bank has been raised by you to such a height that we are now the rivals of the best foreign concerns.

  SHIPUCHIN. Deputation... reputation... occupation.... Two friends that had a walk at night, held converse by the pale moonlight.... Oh tell me not, that youth is vain, that jealousy has turned my brain.

  THE MEMBER OF THE DEPUTATION. [Continues in confusion] "Then, throwing an objective glance at the present condition of things, we, deeply respected and dear Andrey Andreyevitch... [Lowering his voice] In that case, we'll do it later on.... Yes, later on...." [DEPUTATION goes out in confusion.]

  Curtain.

  SWAN SONG by Anton Checkov Translated From The Russian, With An Introduction By Marian Fell CHARACTERS VASILI SVIETLOVIDOFF, a comedian, 68 years old NIKITA IVANITCH, a prompter, an old man The scene is laid on the stage of a country theatre, at night, after the play. To the right a row of rough, unpainted doors leading into the dressing-rooms. To the left and in the background the stage is encumbered with all sorts of rubbish. In the middle of the stage is an overturned stool. SVIETLOVIDOFF. [With a candle in his hand, comes out of a dressing-room and laughs] Well, well, this is funny! Here's a good joke! I fell asleep in my dressing-room when the play was over, and there I was calmly snoring after everybody else had left the theatre. Ah! I'm a foolish old man, a poor old dodderer! I have been drinking again, and so I fell asleep in there, sitting up. That was clever! Good for you, old boy! [Calls] Yegorka! Petrushka! Where the devil are you? Petrushka! The scoundrels must be asleep, and an earthquake wouldn't wake them now! Yegorka! [Picks up the stool, sits down, and puts the candle on the floor] Not a sound! Only echos answer me. I gave Yegorka and Petrushka each a tip to-day, and now they have disappeared without leaving a trace behind them. The rascals have gone off and have probably locked up the theatre. [Turns his head about] I'm drunk! Ugh! The play to-night was for my benefit, and it is disgusting to think how much beer and wine I have poured down my throat in honour of the occasion. Gracious! My body is burning all over, and I feel as if I had twenty tongues in my mouth. It is horrid! Idiotic! This poor old sinner is drunk again, and doesn't even know what he has been celebrating! Ugh! My head is splitting, I am shivering all over, and I feel as dark and cold inside as a cellar! Even if I don't mind ruining my health, I ought at least to remember my age, old idiot that I am! Yes, my old age! It's no use! I can play the fool, and brag, and pretend to be young, but my life is really over now, I kiss my hand to the sixty-eight years that have gone by; I'll never see them again! I have drained the bottle, only a few little drops are left at the bottom, nothing but the dregs. Yes, yes, that's the case, Vasili, old boy. The time has come for you to rehearse the part of a mummy, whether you like it or not. Death is on its way to you. [Stares ahead of him] It is strange, though, that I have been on the stage now for forty-five years, and this is the first time I have seen a theatre at night, after the lights have been put out. The first time. [Walks up to the foot-lights] How dark it is! I can't see a thing. Oh, yes, I can just make out the prompter's box, and his desk; the rest is in pitch darkness, a black, bottomless pit, like a grave, in which death itself might be hiding.... Brr.... How cold it is! The wind blows out of the empty theatre as though out of a stone flue. What a place for ghosts! The shivers are running up and down my back. [Calls] Yegorka! Petrushka! Where are you both? What on earth makes me think of such gruesome things here? I must give up drinking; I'm an old man, I shan't live much longer. At sixty-eight people go to church and prepare for death, but here I am—heavens! A profane old drunkard in this fool's dress—I'm simply not fit to look at. I must go and change it at once.... This is a dreadful place, I should die of fright sitting here all night. [Goes toward his dressing-room; at the same time NIKITA IVANITCH in a long white coat comes out of the dressing-room at the farthest end of the stage. SVIETLOVIDOFF sees IVANITCH—shrieks with terror and steps back] Who are you? What? What do you want? [Stamps his foot] Who are you? IVANITCH. It is I, sir. SVIETLOVIDOFF. Who are you? IVANITCH. [Comes slowly toward him] It is I, sir, the prompter, Nikita Ivanitch. It is I, master, it is I! SVIETLOVIDOFF. [Sinks helplessly onto the stool, breathes heavily and trembles violently] Heavens! Who are you? It is you . . . you Nikitushka? What . . . what are you doing here? IVANITCH. I spend my nights here in the dressing-rooms. Only please be good enough not to tell Alexi Fomitch, sir. I hav
e nowhere else to spend the night; indeed, I haven't. SVIETLOVIDOFF. Ah! It is you, Nikitushka, is it? Just think, the audience called me out sixteen times; they brought me three wreathes and lots of other things, too; they were all wild with enthusiasm, and yet not a soul came when it was all over to wake the poor, drunken old man and take him home. And I am an old man, Nikitushka! I am sixty-eight years old, and I am ill. I haven't the heart left to go on. [Falls on IVANITCH'S neck and weeps] Don't go away, Nikitushka; I am old and helpless, and I feel it is time for me to die. Oh, it is dreadful, dreadful! IVANITCH. [Tenderly and respectfully] Dear master! it is time for you to go home, sir! SVIETLOVIDOFF. I won't go home; I have no home—none! none!—none! IVANITCH. Oh, dear! Have you forgotten where you live? SVIETLOVIDOFF. I won't go there. I won't! I am all alone there. I have nobody, Nikitushka! No wife—no children. I am like the wind blowing across the lonely fields. I shall die, and no one will remember me. It is awful to be alone—no one to cheer me, no one to caress me, no one to help me to bed when I am drunk. Whom do I belong to? Who needs me? Who loves me? Not a soul, Nikitushka. IVANITCH. [Weeping] Your audience loves you, master. SVIETLOVIDOFF. My audience has gone home. They are all asleep, and have forgotten their old clown. No, nobody needs me, nobody loves me; I have no wife, no children. IVANITCH. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Don't be so unhappy about it. SVIETLOVIDOFF. But I am a man, I am still alive. Warm, red blood is tingling in my veins, the blood of noble ancestors. I am an aristocrat, Nikitushka; I served in the army, in the artillery, before I fell as low as this, and what a fine young chap I was! Handsome, daring, eager! Where has it all gone? What has become of those old days? There's the pit that has swallowed them all! I remember it all now. Forty-five years of my life lie buried there, and what a life, Nikitushka! I can see it as clearly as I see your face: the ecstasy of youth, faith, passion, the love of women—women, Nikitushka! IVANITCH. It is time you went to sleep, sir. SVIETLOVIDOFF. When I first went on the stage, in the first glow of passionate youth, I remember a woman loved me for my acting. She was beautiful, graceful as a poplar, young, innocent, pure, and radiant as a summer dawn. Her smile could charm away the darkest night. I remember, I stood before her once, as I am now standing before you. She had never seemed so lovely to me as she did then, and she spoke to me so with her eyes—such a look! I shall never forget it, no, not even in the grave; so tender, so soft, so deep, so bright and young! Enraptured, intoxicated, I fell on my knees before her, I begged for my happiness, and she said: "Give up the stage!" Give up the stage! Do you understand? She could love an actor, but marry him—never! I was acting that day, I remember—I had a foolish, clown's part, and as I acted, I felt my eyes being opened; I saw that the worship of the art I had held so sacred was a delusion and an empty dream; that I was a slave, a fool, the plaything of the idleness of strangers. I understood my audience at last, and since that day I have not believed in their applause, or in their wreathes, or in their enthusiasm. Yes, Nikitushka! The people applaud me, they buy my photograph, but I am a stranger to them. They don't know me, I am as the dirt beneath their feet. They are willing enough to meet me . . . but allow a daughter or a sister to marry me, an outcast, never! I have no faith in them, [sinks onto the stool] no faith in them. IVANITCH. Oh, sir! you look dreadfully pale, you frighten me to death! Come, go home, have mercy on me! SVIETLOVIDOFF. I saw through it all that day, and the knowledge was dearly bought. Nikitushka! After that . . . when that girl . . . well, I began to wander aimlessly about, living from day to day without looking ahead. I took the parts of buffoons and low comedians, letting my mind go to wreck. Ah! but I was a great artist once, till little by little I threw away my talents, played the motley fool, lost my looks, lost the power of expressing myself, and became in the end a Merry Andrew instead of a man. I have been swallowed up in that great black pit. I never felt it before, but to-night, when I woke up, I looked back, and there behind me lay sixty-eight years. I have just found out what it is to be old! It is all over . . . [sobs] . . . all over. IVANITCH. There, there, dear master! Be quiet . . . gracious! [Calls] Petrushka! Yegorka! SVIETLOVIDOFF. But what a genius I was! You cannot imagine what power I had, what eloquence; how graceful I was, how tender; how many strings [beats his breast] quivered in this breast! It chokes me to think of it! Listen now, wait, let me catch my breath, there; now listen to this: "The shade of bloody Ivan now returning Fans through my lips rebellion to a flame, I am the dead Dimitri! In the burning Boris shall perish on the throne I claim. Enough! The heir of Czars shall not be seen Kneeling to yonder haughty Polish Queen!"* *From "Boris Godunoff," by Pushkin. [translator's note] Is that bad, eh? [Quickly] Wait, now, here's something from King Lear. The sky is black, see? Rain is pouring down, thunder roars, lightning—zzz zzz zzz—splits the whole sky, and then, listen: "Blow winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes spout Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks! You sulphurous thought-executing fires Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts Singe my white head! And thou, all shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's moulds, all germons spill at once That make ungrateful man!" [Impatiently] Now, the part of the fool. [Stamps his foot] Come take the fool's part! Be quick, I can't wait! IVANITCH. [Takes the part of the fool] "O, Nuncle, court holy-water in a dry house is better than this rain-water out o' door. Good Nuncle, in; ask thy daughter's blessing: here's a night pities neither wise men nor fools." SVIETLOVIDOFF. "Rumble thy bellyful! spit, fire! spout, rain! Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters; I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children." Ah! there is strength, there is talent for you! I'm a great artist! Now, then, here's something else of the same kind, to bring back my youth to me. For instance, take this, from Hamlet, I'll begin . . . Let me see, how does it go? Oh, yes, this is it. [Takes the part of Hamlet] "O! the recorders, let me see one.—To withdraw with you. Why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toil?" IVANITCH. "O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly." SVIETLOVIDOFF. "I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe?" IVANITCH. "My lord, I cannot." SVIETLOVIDOFF. "I pray you." IVANITCH. "Believe me, I cannot." SVIETLOVIDOFF. "I do beseech you." IVANITCH. "I know no touch of it, my lord." SVIETLOVIDOFF. "'Tis as easy as lying: govern these vantages with your finger and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops." IVANITCH. "But these I cannot command to any utterance of harmony: I have not the skill." SVIETLOVIDOFF. "Why, look you, how unworthy a thing you make of me. You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. S'blood! Do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me!" [laughs and clasps] Bravo! Encore! Bravo! Where the devil is there any old age in that? I'm not old, that is all nonsense, a torrent of strength rushes over me; this is life, freshness, youth! Old age and genius can't exist together. You seem to be struck dumb, Nikitushka. Wait a second, let me come to my senses again. Oh! Good Lord! Now then, listen! Did you ever hear such tenderness, such music? Sh! Softly; "The moon had set. There was not any light, Save of the lonely legion'd watch-stars pale In outer air, and what by fits made bright Hot oleanders in a rosy vale Searched by the lamping fly, whose little spark Went in and out, like passion's bashful hope." [The noise of opening doors is heard] What's that? IVANITCH. There are Petrushka and Yegorka coming back. Yes, you have genius, genius, my master. SVIETLOVIDOFF. [Calls, turning toward the noise] Come here to me, boys! [To IVANITCH] Let us go and get dressed. I'm not old! All that is foolishness, nonsense! [laughs gaily] What are you crying for? You poor old granny, you, what's the matter now? This won't do! There, there, this won't do at all! Come, come, old man, don't stare so! What makes you stare like
that? There, there! [Embraces him in tears] Don't cry! Where there is art and genius there can never be such things as old age or loneliness or sickness . . . and death itself is half . . . [Weeps] No, no, Nikitushka! It is all over for us now! What sort of a genius am I? I'm like a squeezed lemon, a cracked bottle, and you—you are the old rat of the theatre . . . a prompter! Come on! [They go] I'm no genius, I'm only fit to be in the suite of Fortinbras, and even for that I am too old.... Yes.... Do you remember those lines from Othello, Nikitushka? "Farewell the tranquil mind! Farewell content! Farewell the plumed troops and the big wars That make ambition virtue! O farewell! Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!" IVANITCH. Oh! You're a genius, a genius! SVIETLOVIDOFF. And again this: "Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon, Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even: Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon, And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven." They go out together, the curtain falls slowly.