SCENE I: _Night. Fog. The bank of one of the Petrograd canals.
Lanterns are seen in the distance. A cast iron gate is seen
distinctly in the foreground. Beyond it, the canal and the
other side are enveloped in darkness, and enormous houses are
outlined faintly in the background. Lights are seen in some of
the windows here and there—the lights are faint and motionless
like yellow spots._
_HENRY TILE and FEKLUSHA are standing and talking, half leaning
against the gate. Henry is smoking a cigar._
HENRY
You are drunk, Feklusha, you are absolutely drunk. Your eyes are green.
Come.
FEKLUSHA
I won’t.
HENRY
Shall I call a cab? Then you won’t have to drag your feet.
FEKLUSHA
I don’t want to.
HENRY
I’ll give you some more cognac.
FEKLUSHA
I don’t want any. You’re drunk yourself. I don’t want to go to your
apartment—leave me alone. I don’t want to!
HENRY
Don’t yell.
FEKLUSHA
I’m not yelling.
_Pause._
Let me go, Henry. I will go down on my knees before you, if you like. I
will go down on my knees before you, but let me go, or I will shout again.
HENRY
Alexandrov!
FEKLUSHA
I won’t. Why did you take me along?
_Cries._
I was hiding, but you found me—I can’t bear it any more. I don’t want
to go to that tavern any more. I don’t want your cognac, I want to go
home—my wife is waiting for me.
HENRY
You are drunk. Don’t cry, it’s foolish. Listen, have you forgotten what
you wanted to do? Try to recall! Recall! You were planning to betray me
when I run away with the money—in order to get one third. That would make
you rich—rich! Recall!
FEKLUSHA
Well, I wanted to do it, but now I don’t want to do it. I was driven
insane by your maps; I began to feel like a bloodhound. I was running and
running, without knowing where I was running. The day I met you on the
Nevsky was cursed—I felt happy—I had found an old friend!
HENRY
Yes, that day was cursed. You express yourself precisely. Come to my
house, come; it will be very nice there. Have you forgotten? We will
light all the lamps, I will get some cognac.
FEKLUSHA
I won’t go. That’s my last word, Mr. Tile.
HENRY
Call me Henry.
FEKLUSHA
I don’t want to. Either you run away with your million or—to the devil
with it all! To the devil!
HENRY
Very well, I’ll run away. Have another drink, it’s cognac.
FEKLUSHA
Where did you get it?
_Drinks from the bottle._
Very good. And you?
HENRY
I’ll have a drink, too.
_Drinks._
FEKLUSHA
_Laughs._
Fine comrades! The people of your bank should see you now—how funny! By
God!
HENRY
_Laughs softly._
They are sleeping, and they see in their dreams that Henry Tile is busy
with his arithmetic. While Henry Tile is drinking cognac with Feklusha.
_Both laugh, swaying._
FEKLUSHA
Where are we? I don’t know this place. Where are we, Henry?
HENRY
This is the Catherine Canal. And that is the fog—and there is the water.
Do you want to spit into the water?
FEKLUSHA
I do.
_Spits._
And what is that?
HENRY
Those are the lighted windows of the houses on the other side. Someone is
awake.
FEKLUSHA
And I thought only we were awake. Haven’t you any more cognac? I would
drink some more. I feel cold.
HENRY
Come to my apartment, and I’ll give you more. There is a little round
table, and on the table are cognac and punch. Are you fond of punch?
FEKLUSHA
_Still obstinate, but weakening_,
I won’t go. Either you run away right now, or—! Why don’t you run away?
What sort of a thief are you? Upon my word of honor! I’ll throw myself
into the canal, by God, I will!
HENRY
Oh, what a sly little beast you are! You are all very sly beasts, and you
want to be slier than Henry Tile, but you cannot. He will deceive you,
Feklusha! I was jesting. You may run after me night and day, but you will
not overtake me. You will lose your reason altogether, your eyes will
turn yellow, you will be howling at the door, but you will not overtake
me!
FEKLUSHA
My eyes are yellow now. And you are also drunk.
HENRY
You are foolish! I cannot be drunk. I drink this—(_Throws the bottle into
the water_)—and it turns into fire, it burns like a flame. I am full of
fire!
FEKLUSHA
I would have run away twenty times.
HENRY
Oh, yes. You would have run away twenty times. Another fool would have
run away twenty times—and twenty times the police would have caught
another fool! But I am waiting. I am thinking and waiting. Oh, I have
grown tired of making plans and upsetting them, but soon I am going to
have a plan which cannot be upset—and then I shall disappear. One, two,
three—Uf!
_Blows at his fingers._
Where is Henry Tile? Disappeared. Excuse me, he has put on a magic cap.
Feklusha! Could you overtake a phantom?
FEKLUSHA
_Laughing plaintively_:
Now it seems to me that I believe you again. You are a real tempter—a
demon. I had better go home.
HENRY
Believe me, please, believe me! I have a remarkable mind which sees
everything. You say this is the fog, and I am telling you that these are
the wings on which Henry Tile will fly away. I have a remarkable mind;
it thinks while others sleep. What is it thinking about? Everything! Oh,
what dreams I see, what a happy man I am!
_Laughs happily._
Excuse me, I pushed you.
FEKLUSHA
Never mind, Henry, that’s nothing.
HENRY
That’s impolite. Excuse me. Fools ask me, What do you do all day long,
you are always alone? Why, I haven’t enough days and nights for thinking!
Thinking! Thinking! They take me to see gay women, they take me as if I
were sick and needed a cure, and they ask me, Isn’t it fine, Henry Tile?
And I say to them, Very good! What a wonderful orgy!
_Laughs._
FEKLUSHA
_Also laughing_:
Are the women nice?
HENRY
You are foolish. As if I needed women! For a trifling sum I can be
immoral—how foolish! Listen, I am now thirty-four years old, and I may
live another thirty-four years—and what if I should be old, that doesn’t
matter. The Popes of Rome are made Popes only when they are old—that
doesn’t matter. And in America—or wherever I shall be, wherever there
will be the man who will emerge from the stupid skin of Henry Tile—in
America I will invest my million. Oh, I know how to handle money! I have
a plan, I have given much thought to it, I have considered everything,
and I know a dozen combinations which will bring me a hundred millions in
five years. Is that good—a hundred millions?
FEKLUSHA
What a question!
HENRY
No, Feklusha, that isn’t so good—but a thousand millions, but two
thousand millions—that is good! Then I could live! Then I could amuse
myself! On that I could have palaces, buy women, be the benefactor of
idiots, have a Henry Tile of my own who would love accuracy—then I could
amuse myself! I will amuse myself!
FEKLUSHA
No, I don’t want to. Leave me, Henry. My dear fellow! Why did you take me
by the hand? Leave me.
HENRY
You must believe me, my old friend! You must love me. I have a remarkable
mind.
FEKLUSHA
I do love you, I do love you!
HENRY
_Bending down towards him, softly_:
Silence! Do you know that I, Henry Tile, am a criminal? I _am_!
FEKLUSHA
Really? At last, thank God!
HENRY
You can think of money only? No, it isn’t _money_. It is women—it is
little children who are still lisping, “Henry, Henry!” It is the murder
of human beings, it is deception, it is betrayal, mockery, falsehood,
cruelty—and what else is there? What else is there that Henry Tile has
not yet tried?
FEKLUSHA
_Faintly_:
Leave me.
HENRY
We are going to have cognac soon—you like cognac? Or punch? My dear
Alexandrov, I will give you punch, yes, as much as you like.
FEKLUSHA
Again punch? I don’t want any.
_Rudely_:
When did you manage all this? You are lying, you haven’t enough money for
all that. I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense, that’s enough!
HENRY
_Laughing happily_:
I am preparing myself, I must know everything. You remember how they
taught us at school? I am preparing myself. I am painting pictures, I am
a famous painter. I have achieved everything!
FEKLUSHA
Leave me alone.
HENRY
Be silent, or I will throw you into the water! I have achieved
everything. They—these people—they know only the body of crime, but I,
Henry Tile, I have penetrated into its soul. Oh, how I know the soul of
murder!
FEKLUSHA
I’ll call a policeman.
HENRY
Keep quiet, you fool!
FEKLUSHA
_Loudly_:
Po——
_Henry closes his mouth. A light struggle, followed by a pause.
Only the frightened outcry of Feklusha and the heavy breathing
of Henry are heard._
HENRY
But I was only jesting. This is so foolish. I was jesting, don’t you
understand? You will not cry now, will you?
FEKLUSHA
No. I was scared.
HENRY
Of course, of course! You thought I was talking seriously, and you were
frightened. Don’t shiver like that, don’t shiver. You are a poor little
rabbit, while I am a wolf, isn’t that so?
_Laughs, trying to appear kind._
I am a wolf, am I not?
FEKLUSHA
I like you very much, Henry—you are my benefactor. Why should I cry?
_Sobs._
Leave me, I am chilled, I may catch a bad cold.
HENRY
Yes, yes, it is very damp and foggy, you may catch cold, my dear fellow.
Your health is very poor. You mustn’t shiver. Don’t—we will go soon.
Shall we go or will you wait a little? I’ll wait.
FEKLUSHA
I am going in a little while.
HENRY
Oh, what a foolish little beast! He is shivering! But we will warm him up
with hot punch, with very hot punch, and we will have some music. Do you
like music, Feklusha?
FEKLUSHA
I do. Some one is coming. Let my hand go.
HENRY
_Laughing_:
That is the King of the Forest, Feklusha. “The child, all shivering,
is clinging to its father.” Who’s coming? Who wants to scare my little
rabbit?
_Laughs._
That’s nothing: It’s a lady in a large hat. It’s a beautiful woman for a
song, and you will be a Don Juan to-night!
FEKLUSHA
No.
HENRY
Yes, yes. You said so yourself. Well, smile, smile—you are a splendid
fellow!
_A woman with a large hat and bent wet plumes emerges silently
from the fog._
HENRY
Good evening, beautiful lady. May I know why you are walking alone in
such bad weather?
_The woman looks at them silently._
HENRY
_Laughing_:
Don’t be silent, Feklusha, you must be a gallant cavalier. Ask her. You
are a Don Juan this evening.
FEKLUSHA
What shall I ask her? Aren’t you afraid to walk alone, mademoiselle?
HENRY
_Laughing_:
He says, aren’t you afraid to walk alone? Well? Now let us hear the
beautiful lady’s answer. Well?
_The woman is laughing and waving her hand._
WOMAN
Good evening, friends. Are you laughing at me or not? What are you
standing here for, at the canal? Were you waiting for me?
HENRY
She asks: Were we waiting for her? Well, Feklusha, answer. She is a very
nice lady.
FEKLUSHA
What shall I answer? You are so strange, Henry! Let’s take a cab, and
that’s all. What’s the use of answering?
HENRY
_Rejoicing_:
That’s it! There’s a brave fellow!
_Both laugh. The woman, after thinking awhile, also laughs._
WOMAN
Are you drunk? Why do you stand near the canal? I am chilled, I am going
home. What time is it?
FEKLUSHA
Happy people don’t watch the time. Henry, what did I say? Happy people
don’t watch the time!
_Laughs loudly; Henry also laughs, clapping him on the
shoulder._
WOMAN
If you are so happy, take me along with you. I am also happy. My friends
have nicknamed me “Happy Jennie.” I bring luck with me wherever I go.
They all praise me. Come, why are we standing here? The bird on my hat
is afraid of the rain!
FEKLUSHA
_Laughing_:
Happy people don’t watch the time? What? And what were you thinking of,
Jennie?
HENRY
_Approvingly_:
Yes, yes, Feklusha, you have let loose. But we must ask the beautiful
lady about her price.
WOMAN
What’s the sense of that? You are talking nonsense. Let us go, and that’s
all.
HENRY
Feklusha! It was Henry Tile who asked what is your price. He was afraid
the price would be too high.
WOMAN
Oh, not at all.
HENRY
_Laughing_:
Yes, he was afraid! But we are not afraid and we ask you to come along,
Happy Jennie. Now we are all happy.
FEKLUSHA
All! I like her. You take her. Jennie, do you like cognac?
HENRY
Of course, she is coming along with us, of course. And there will be
cognac, and hot punch. Come!
WOMAN
But where are you taking me? I am afraid to go to a strange place.
FEKLUSHA
We are kind people, Jennie—don’t be afraid. Henry, shall I take her arm?
Jennie, your arm! Oh, what a little hand!
HENRY
But you are a real Don Juan! Come. And I will be your protector. Go, my
dear children, I will follow.
_They go. Henry follows them._
WOMAN
Where are we going?
FEKLUSHA
Do you love me, Jennie? I am a kind man.
_The bank is deserted. Fog. Night._
_Curtain_
SCENE II: _The same night. When the curtain goes up after a
brief intermission, the audience sees the same unfinished room
in Henry’s apartment. The room is brightly lighted. On the
table are cognac and fruit._
_HENRY, FEKLUSHA and “HAPPY JENNIE” are seated at the table,
drinking. They have already drunk a great deal. The table is in
disorder. FEKLUSHA, intoxicated, is without a coat, in a soiled
shirt and torn vest. The woman’s waist is partly unfastened,
but she still wears her large hat with the wet plumes._
HENRY
Have another glass, Jennie. Please. And eat this pear.
WOMAN
_Merci_, I feel embarrassed. You are the host but you are not drinking
anything yourself!
HENRY
Oh, no. I am drinking, too. Please—Your health, “Happy Jennie!”
FEKLUSHA
I drink your health, too!
WOMAN
I’ll be drunk. Well, here’s to the health of the one who loves!
_They drink._
WOMAN
I’d like to have some lemon. How much do you pay for your apartment?
HENRY
Twelve hundred.
WOMAN
Including the porter?
HENRY
Oh, yes. Including the porter.
WOMAN
That isn’t expensive. And a nice neighborhood, too. Well—
_To Feklusha_:
What is it? Why do you pull me?
FEKLUSHA
Jennie, take off your hat!
HENRY
Feklusha, you are impolite to the lady, you should be attentive to her,
instead of pulling her. Fie!
FEKLUSHA
Let her take her hat off! Tell her. Jennie, take your hat off!
WOMAN
What do you want of my hat? Let it dry. It’ll dry better on my head.
You’re not going to buy me another one, anyway.
HENRY
And don’t pull her hair!
WOMAN
It didn’t hurt. We are having such a serious conversation here, and he
bothers me. That isn’t expensive, twelve hundred—not expensive at all.
But you should let some of the rooms. What’s the use of keeping them
vacant? They’re empty. Ah, you have filled my glass again, how quick you
are!
HENRY
Your health!
WOMAN
My health is all right. Now, really, the rooms are empty. And good rooms,
too. Anybody would take them—so many people need rooms, and here they
are idle. Put out a green sign in front of the house: “Two rooms to let.”
HENRY
And with windows on the sunny side—that is very important.
WOMAN
With windows facing the sun, why not? Write it out and paste it
downstairs, or the porter will do it. You wouldn’t have to bother. Do you
keep a cook, or do you have your meals at a restaurant?
HENRY
At a restaurant. You know, there is so much trouble when you have a cook.
WOMAN
Oh, yes, sometimes you get a cook who will give you a lot of trouble!
But, oh, you men, how little you know how to live! It’s funny to look at
you!
HENRY
Another drink!
WOMAN
_Merci._ Don’t you think it’s too much? I’d like some lemon.
_To Feklusha_:
Again? How annoying you are—what is it you want?
FEKLUSHA
You came up with me, not with him. Tell her, Henry!
_Henry and the woman laugh._
WOMAN
Of course with you, with you. Well, give me your lips. I’ll kiss
you—don’t be angry.
FEKLUSHA
I don’t want to be. You must love me, do you hear?
HENRY
He is jealous. Feklusha, are you jealous?
WOMAN
Jealous into the bargain, just think of it. Oh, you fussy little goat!
HENRY
He is a very jealous rabbit!
WOMAN
Oh, you foolish Feklusha! Look, even your friend is laughing at you, he
is thinking, how foolish you are, and your beard is like that of a goat.
Oh, you little goat!
_Strokes Feklusha by the beard; he laughs happily._
FEKLUSHA
Let go! Jennie!
WOMAN
No, I won’t. Are you going to be jealous? Are you going to be jealous?
You little rabbit. I was jesting a little. Now I can have another drink.
Have a drink, Feklusha!
HENRY
She loves you.
WOMAN
Of course, I love him, he is so funny. Well, you gaping fool, why do you
spill the drink on the tablecloth? You’re spilling it on the cloth, and
it’ll have to be washed. Be careful.
_To Henry_:
We’ve spilled so much, excuse us!
HENRY
Never mind, that doesn’t matter. Have this pear, please. Why don’t you
have some fruit? Feklusha, have some.
FEKLUSHA
I am eating. He is very kindhearted, Jennie. He is very kindhearted,
isn’t he?
WOMAN
He is the host, but he doesn’t touch anything himself.
HENRY
Oh, no!
FEKLUSHA
I love you very much, Henry. I love him very much, Jennie—he is
kindhearted. I know him well. He calls me “Alexandrov”—and I come rushing
to him. You can’t get away from him—Oh, no!
WOMAN
Oh, I am tired sitting up this way. May I sit on the couch? It’s softer
there.
FEKLUSHA
I’ll sit down, too.
HENRY
Of course, please. Alexandrov, why don’t you help the lady?
WOMAN
_Laughing, intoxicated_:
Or I am going to wash the dishes right away. I am so foolish. Others
do all sorts of things, but when I have had too much to drink, I start
washing plates, cleaning knives and forks! It’s very funny! I wash a
little, but I smash a heap of dishes.
HENRY
If that will give you pleasure——
WOMAN
Oh, no. I am not drunk yet. Ah, that’s good.
_Sits down on the couch._
And you, little rabbit, sit down, and I am going to tell you a little
story. Once upon a time there was a little rabbit—his ears were long—Oh,
so long!
_She tickles Feklusha’s hand, he laughs and withdraws his hand.
Henry looks at them from the distance. He is silent, as though
not there at all._
FEKLUSHA
Do you love me, Jennie?
WOMAN
I love you, I love you, of course I love you! Once upon a time there was
a little rabbit.
FEKLUSHA
Do you feel chilly?
WOMAN
I feel warm now—I was chilly before. Wait, I’ll take my hat off. I’m
tired of it—to the devil with it! Look at the plumes! My dear, I had
been pacing the sidewalks ever since five o’clock—that’s enough to chill
anybody.
FEKLUSHA
_Laughs._
And I have five children!
WOMAN
_Laughing_:
Oh, you rabbit! What do you want so many children for? I had one, and
lost it—and you have five! Girls?
FEKLUSHA
Three girls, and one little boy died—Sasha. How many is that altogether?
WOMAN
Well, of course, girls. Just think of it! I had a little boy, a little
rascal.
FEKLUSHA
Now, let us count!
WOMAN
What’s the use of counting? You are a queer fellow. What an accountant
you are—counting his children on his fingers! Stop it!
FEKLUSHA
You’re wrong, Jennie. It’s always best to count, or you may forget. Wait,
I’ll ask him. Henry, how many children have I, eh?
_Henry maintains silence, his eyes closed._
WOMAN
I guess he is dozing, be quiet! Let him sleep a little.
FEKLUSHA
Aren’t you afraid of him?
WOMAN
Why should I be afraid of him? You are impolite to me, but he is very
polite. I like him very much. Be quiet, let him sleep.
FEKLUSHA
He knows how to count! He has a million!
WOMAN
Really?
FEKLUSHA
_Laughs._
I am doing it purposely. I am sly, too. He thought I was away, but I—he
is wise, but at the same time he’s a fool, a big fool.
WOMAN
He is wiser than you. Are you wise? Let me see.
FEKLUSHA
I fooled him.
_Laughs._
He thought I was away, but I was standing beneath his window every night.
I watched all his tracks. He can’t run away from me—Oh, no!
WOMAN
Don’t shout!
FEKLUSHA
I am not shouting. “Alexandrov!” You’ll find out the kind of man
Alexandrov is! I’ll make you wince! I can cry, and I can dance, if I want
to—that’s the kind of man I am. And if I want to, I can kill myself, and
then, go and look for Alexandrov! “Alexandrov!”
WOMAN
You are just talking downright nonsense.
FEKLUSHA
It isn’t nonsense. You have no right to say that to me. I’ll hit you on
the jaw.
WOMAN
What an angry rabbit you are!
FEKLUSHA
No, I am not a rabbit. I am a man. It was he who made me a rabbit, but I
am a man. I have no ability, but I am a man. I have a heart beating here,
I believe in God, but he doesn’t. What right has he?
_Crying_:
I can’t bear it any more!
WOMAN
Now, now! What is it you can’t bear?
FEKLUSHA
_Weeping_:
I can’t bear it any more!
WOMAN
Stop it, I am sick of it. Or I’ll fall asleep, do you hear?
FEKLUSHA
Kiss me.
WOMAN
First he cries, then he wants me to kiss him. There!
FEKLUSHA
I don’t want you to kiss me. Your nose is crooked. Why did you come here
with a crooked nose? Get out!
WOMAN
Get out yourself! Just think of him! You didn’t invite me here. Get out
yourself! You nasty little rabbit!
FEKLUSHA
Jennie!
HENRY
_Loudly_:
Alexandrov! Do you want some more cognac? Now, now—no fighting. Don’t
raise your hand!
FEKLUSHA
I am not fighting. It is she.
HENRY
You had a little quarrel? That’s nothing. That’ll pass. Have some cognac,
Happy Jennie.
FEKLUSHA
_Laughs._
Her nose is crooked, Henry. The devil brought her to us!
WOMAN
And who brought you?
_Puts on her hat angrily._
HENRY
Oh, aren’t you ashamed, Alexandrov? You are offending our guest! That
isn’t right. What sort of a man are you?
FEKLUSHA
_Laughs._
The devil brought her here.
HENRY
Then you should be grateful to him, and not angry. If the devil had
brought me such a woman, I would have said to him, Thank you! And I would
have clasped his hairy, honest hand!
_Laughs._
Oh, yes, that would be an honest hand! Or do you think that the devil
cannot have an honest hand? What do you think, Jennie?
WOMAN
There are all kinds of devils, just as there are all kinds of people.
HENRY
_Solemnly_:
Do you hear, Alexandrov, you fool? Drink, liven up your dull brain!
Drink, Jennie, drink some more—drink faster! Soon the cock will crow.
My night is passing, and I haven’t had a single one of my dreams. Drink
faster. Swallow the fire! Here I, Henry Tile, am swallowing fire! Look!
One, two, three!
_Drinks a large glass of cognac._
FEKLUSHA
I too! Look, Henry! I too!
_Empties his glass, coughs; the woman, laughing, taps him on
the shoulder._
WOMAN
So will I!
HENRY
He too! All of us! Drink faster, I beg you, my dear guests, I beg you:
drink faster! The night is passing rapidly, but we must be faster than
the night. Let us rush like wild horses. Do you know how to neigh like a
horse, Feklusha?
FEKLUSHA
I do. What time is it? I must go to work to-morrow.
HENRY
What work? You are out of your mind. What work are you talking about?
Have you forgotten, my old friend, have you forgotten that you are
working for me?
FEKLUSHA
I am done for!
_Drinks._
Jennie, drink!
WOMAN
I’m drinking.
_Laughs._
You’re driving us fast.
_They drink, loudly clanking their glasses._
HENRY
Jennie, kiss Feklusha. Feklusha, kiss Jennie.
WOMAN
Drinking and kissing!
HENRY
Quick. I want to see how a man kisses the woman he loves. Just think of
it, I have never seen it. Well?
FEKLUSHA
Well?
WOMAN
_Laughing._
There!
_They kiss._
HENRY
More—more—more passionately! Ah! That’s the way!
WOMAN
_Laughing_:
What a queer fellow—he’s never seen it before. Now, my little rabbit, we
are like husband and wife—we kissed each other three times.
FEKLUSHA
I love you.
HENRY
Good! Oh, I know something else. We are all going to laugh soon. Wait.
I’ll be back in a minute—just a minute!
_Goes to his bedroom quickly._
WOMAN
I am drunk, my dear little rabbit—the whole room is dancing before my
eyes.
_Laughs._
What is he up to now—the flatterer?
FEKLUSHA
Kiss me some more. Everything seems to be dancing. It’s so funny!
WOMAN
That’ll do. Let me rather stroke your head now. What thin hair the little
rabbit has—the crows seem to have pulled them out. Have the crows pulled
out your hair, little rabbit?
FEKLUSHA
The crows.
_Henry Tile enters, with changed make-up, and changed walk. He
has on a light wig, baldheaded, and red beard. His cheeks are
very red. He stops and looks silently at the frightened woman
and at Feklusha._
WOMAN
Who is that? Listen!
FEKLUSHA
Look here, there’s nobody here! Who’s that? Why are you staring at us
like that?
_Calls, frightened_:
Henry, somebody is here!
_Henry laughs triumphantly._
HENRY
_Distorting his words_:
Permit me to ask you: Is Henry Tile at home or has he fled already? I am
an Englishman—Sir Edward Thomson. I am red-headed.
FEKLUSHA
Is it possible? Henry! By God, I have sobered up! I was wondering who it
was—I was scared to death. Is it possible?
_Laughs. Henry and the woman also laugh._
HENRY
You didn’t recognize me?
FEKLUSHA
How could I? And your figure, even the figure—and that red beard!
_Laughs._
WOMAN
And baldheaded. But why baldheaded?
HENRY
Look!
_He walks across the room with a changed gait, imitating an
Englishman._
FEKLUSHA
Wonderful, quite a different man. I don’t understand a thing! I am out of
my mind. Is that you, Henry?
HENRY
I. I can change my walk, I can change my voice, and everything else.
Every night I put on this costume, I look at myself in the mirror, and I
walk up and down this room alone. I am practicing. Do you understand me
now, you fool?
FEKLUSHA
That’s what I call wonderful. That’s really wonderful. Jennie, do you
see? It isn’t enough to kiss his hand—that’s what I say.
HENRY
_Changing his voice_:
Don’t you want some music, Mr. Alexandrov, and you, my beautiful lady? I
am a musician, and at your service.
FEKLUSHA
I do, please, let us have it. Jennie, music!
HENRY
I am a famous musician. Listen, Feklusha, I will play for you “The Waltz
of the Dogs.” Listen!
_He sits down with his usual affected manner, emphasizing it,
and plays “The Waltz of the Dogs,” explaining as he plays_:
Little dogs are dancing. Nice little dogs. Ti—ta—ta!
FEKLUSHA
Little dogs—well, well!
HENRY
This way. This way. They pull them by a string—they hold out bits of
sugar—ta-ta-ti-ti-. And then the little dogs lift their feet—this
way—this way—and they dance—the foolish little dogs. This way, this way!
FEKLUSHA
More! Please, play it again!
WOMAN
More! More!
HENRY
No. That’s enough.
_He walks away from the piano quickly; he stares at the woman
furiously, and then at Feklusha, and he stamps his foot._
Who am I? Oh you fools! The best musicians in the world will play for me,
and I will step with my foot—I will crush their stupid violin with my
foot, and will say “Enough!” I will stand with my feet upon your stupid
music! Enough! The most beautiful of women will fall at my feet and kiss
the mud of my soles, and I will stand with my foot upon her beautiful
naked breast and say, Enough! And she will be crushed while still kissing
with dying lips. Enough! I will cry! Enough, you foolish, trivial,
unworthy—creature!
_He bangs the piano with great force._
WOMAN
Oh, don’t! Better play some more.
FEKLUSHA
Don’t, Henry. I am afraid! You’d better play—about the little dogs. Let
the little dogs dance again.
HENRY
The little dogs?
FEKLUSHA
Yes.
_Laughs happily._
How they pull them by the string, and they lift their little feet, their
little feet!
_Raises his feet._
HENRY
Their little feet?
FEKLUSHA
Yes. Please. I like it.
HENRY
Yes, yes.
_Laughs._
He likes it, he likes it. Very well, then, the little dogs.
WOMAN AND FEKLUSHA
_Begging_:
The little dogs?...
HENRY
_Sitting down at the piano; with changed voice._
Listen! I am a famous musician, and here I am playing for you the famous
“Waltz of the Dogs.” Dance.
_He plays_ “The Waltz of the Dogs.” _Feklusha, raising his
hands, and imitating a dog dancing, turns around easily on his
toes. His face is serious and solemn. The woman joins him.
Raising her hands, she also dances turning around easily, as in
a dream. Her face, too, is serious and attentive._
_Turning around his red head and red cheeks, showing his white
teeth, Henry looks back at them, laughing and playing._
_Curtain_
ACT IV
_The same scene. Night. ELIZABETH, CARL and FEKLUSHA are in the
room._
ELIZABETH
I should like to see the other rooms. Would it be right? I don’t know.
CARL
Why not? Look around, if it gives you pleasure. You needn’t pay any
attention to Feklusha. We are friends now. But how fat I am getting,
Liza—have you noticed it?
ELIZABETH
Yes.
CARL
It’s almost indecent. I gained another pound last week, in spite of my
exercise and horseback riding. I’ll have to get a masseur. Mr. Feklusha,
what do you do in order to be so thin? You will soon look like an Indian
fakir.
FEKLUSHA
What? Yes. I have grown very thin.
CARL
How much do you weigh?
FEKLUSHA
What? I don’t know, I have never weighed myself.
CARL
Liza, don’t you think our friend Feklusha looks like a lunatic who has
escaped from an asylum? But why don’t you look at the other rooms, Liza?
Go. We will chat here. What are you looking at?
ELIZABETH
Carl, is it possible that eighteen months have passed since we were here?
Look—the same music.
CARL
Yes, Henry is conservative. I suppose eighteen months have passed—I don’t
know. But Liza, I don’t understand the charms of these heartrending
recollections. In this respect I am a European. The Russians don’t live,
they only remember something—and whatever they say or whatever they
write, is always like a recollection.
ELIZABETH
And Henry?
CARL
Henry? I must say that I hardly know my brother Henry. Still, I
am convinced that if he came in now, he would drive both of us
out—notwithstanding the charms of your recollections. Make haste, my dear.
FEKLUSHA
He won’t be here so soon. I know his habits.
CARL
So much the better. I wouldn’t like to quarrel with Henry.
ELIZABETH
My husband is dead, and my child is dead, but here nothing has changed.
There will be the head of Beethoven—when is it going to be there? Carl, I
am going into the other rooms. I’ll be back soon.
CARL
Go. The switch is near the door, you’ll find it easily. Mr. Feklusha, sit
down near me.
_Exit Elizabeth. Feklusha sits down near Carl._
CARL
Well, Mr. Feklusha? Why do you smell of sour beer? You always think up
something new. You look either sick or drunk. Why do you stare at me
this way? Well?
FEKLUSHA
It’s done.
CARL
What’s done?
FEKLUSHA
He’s insured. For a hundred thousand—as agreed.
CARL
_Rising._
Really? Where is the policy? Has he the policy?
FEKLUSHA
The policy will soon be here. They promised to have it in a few days. I
am telling you the truth.
CARL
Yes?
_Walks._
CARL
No! No. You are lying, Mr. Feklusha, you are lying, I can see it! You are
a perfectly unbearable fool—why do you lie to me? A queer man who doesn’t
understand his own advantage—and lies into the bargain. Or are you sorry
to lose the cognac you are drinking with Henry? But you have already
drunk yourself sick—you need a hospital now—your eyes are like those of a
mad dog. We, the Tiles, we can drink much. We come of strong stock, but I
wouldn’t advise you to drink much more!
FEKLUSHA
I haven’t touched a drink in a month now. Enough!
CARL
That sounds pretty strong for Feklusha, but if that’s the case, why are
your eyes so half-witted? And what is it you like so much about Henry? He
treats you like a scamp. Or is it that you are sorry for him, that you
have human feelings?
FEKLUSHA
Yes, I am sorry for him. Why shouldn’t I feel sorry for him?
CARL
Fie! Drop it! It’s disgusting to hear you talk! Besides, I’ll tell you
frankly—I know something about medicine, and I tell you that in a year
from now no insurance company will take a risk on Henry. There are
certain symptoms, you understand, which I don’t like at all—I am afraid
for him.
FEKLUSHA
In a week—or two—the policy will be here.
CARL
Do you want me to believe that?
FEKLUSHA
It will be here.
CARL
I want you to know that I am not particularly interested. I live
quite well now, and soon—meanwhile it is a secret—I am going to marry
Elizabeth. And do you know how much money she has? Well. I suppose you
haven’t prepared that note either—it’s impossible to have any dealings
with you.
FEKLUSHA
I have prepared it. Here it is.
CARL
_Reading_:
“I ask that no one be blamed for my death. I leave no will. Give my
servant Ivan five hundred rubles. Henry Tile.” So. Was that your idea—the
five hundred for Ivan?
FEKLUSHA
Yes.
CARL
You are a wonderful criminal, Feklusha. I take back everything unpleasant
I have ever said to you. I know Henry’s handwriting. This is a
masterpiece. Most remarkable! Is that his paper, too?
FEKLUSHA
Yes, from his desk. Give it back to me.
CARL
How old are you—forty? I must tell you that you have been forty years a
blockhead! To bury such a talent in the ground! It’s inexcusably stupid!
With such a genius for forging handwritings you could have made a fortune
long ago. It’s stupid!
FEKLUSHA
Let me have the note.
CARL
_Putting the note away in his pocketbook._
Oh, no, you don’t get that! Show me the policy, then you’ll get your
masterpiece—then it will be in safe hands. _Comprenez_, Mr. Feklusha?
FEKLUSHA
_Hesitating_:
Very well. You are a great criminal yourself, Carl.
CARL
_Indifferently_:
So-so. I must live somehow—money does not lie in the streets. Give me a
million, then you may demand honesty of me. But to ride in a cab, while
others are driving about in automobiles—thank you. But there is one thing
of which you must beware—that’s greed! That’s what kills people like us.
Here is Liza. Well, how is it, Lizette, have you shed tears there?
ELIZABETH
Carl, it is terrible.
CARL
What is it, Lizette? Ghosts?
ELIZABETH
Don’t laugh. One of the rooms is only partly covered with wall paper.
Dust, lime, spiderwebs—what room is that? I forget what he told me that
time—what is that terrible room?
CARL
I don’t know. Henry has so many absurd fantastic ideas. I think it’s the
nursery.
_Laughs._
For your unborn children, Lizette!
FEKLUSHA
Yes, the nursery. In his excitement at that time, Henry ordered them not
to touch the room—I suppose it has been neglected since then.
ELIZABETH
Go out, Carl, and ask Alexandrov to go out with you for awhile. I want to
stay here alone. Do you mind?
CARL
Not at all. Let us go out, Feklusha, and chat. You are fascinating like a
bride this evening—I am really fond of you. Call us, Liza.
_They go out. Elizabeth remains alone, holding an embroidered
handkerchief. She wears large diamond earrings._
ELIZABETH
How strange! Three years have passed. My husband and my child are dead
and buried, and here everything is the same as it was—and the apartment
is waiting for me. Who am I? Liza. I have come purposely from Moscow. I
came here before—I came to Henry. He was not at home, and I waited. Then
I could come in and wait. Henry, I am waiting for you!
_Pause._
Henry, I am waiting for you.
_Pause. Elizabeth weeps._
I love you, Henry! I am happy to kiss the table at which you sit, to kiss
the floor on which you walk, to kiss the room in which I did not want
to live. I? I don’t know. Who else if not I? I love you, Henry. I swear
by the Almighty God, I love you, Henry, and I never loved anyone but
you, and I never called anyone but you! You are strong, and you do not
forgive. You drove me out when I knocked at your door. Go, you said. Go,
unworthy Elizabeth—you said, and shut the door. And I went away. I love
you, Henry.
_Weeps._
Why are you so sad, if you do not love me, Henry? Yesterday you were
walking along the bank of the canal, you thought you were alone, but I
was riding in a carriage and looking at you from the window. You were so
sad! And I fell in love with you all over again, like a little girl—you
thought you were alone—you walked sadly and saw no one. Perhaps you
were even crying, Henry? Perhaps you were also thinking of the unborn
children? Oh, what terrible words—unborn children! Who were not born? Who
did not see the light? Who were expected here and who failed to come? Who
were not born? Who failed to come? Henry! Henry!
_Pause._
God, make it so that my soul shall remain here, that it shall turn into
the air that would embrace him! He will come home sad—and suddenly he
will feel a certain warmth, he will smile and say: “Why is it so nice in
this room? How nice! Who is kissing me? Is that you, Liza? Is that you,
Liza?”
_Weeps._
Your mother, who died long ago and cannot curse me, because she died
long ago—she taught you to play; you were then a little boy and she
moved your little fingers—you had such tiny fingers then. Afterward,
you played for me—I was sitting here, and you were playing, and you
wanted me to laugh, but I suddenly felt sad and terrified. I suddenly
commenced to hate you and your apartment. I commenced to hate your
mother—I felt sad and terrified! I did not understand anything at the
time, and I went to Moscow. But now I know. You were playing about the
unborn children—your laughter was sad. Henry, why did you play for me?
Who were not born? Who did not see the light? For whom were they waiting
here—waiting—waiting—and who failed to come? Henry!
_Weeps._
I love you, Henry!
_Weeps. Kneels and lowers her head on the keys of the piano.
Then rises, adjusts her hair and wipes her forehead as though
driving something away. Calls_:
Carl!
_Enter FEKLUSHA and CARL._
CARL
Well, shall we go home? It’s time. The devil knows what it is, Liza. I
have just been boasting to Feklusha about my health—and suddenly I feel a
most annoying palpitation of the heart! Do you think it’s heart trouble?
ELIZABETH
I don’t think so. Let’s go. Good night, Alexandrov.
CARL
I don’t think it’s heart trouble, but it’s dreadfully disagreeable.
Well, to the devil with everything, I must start my massage treatment
to-morrow! Good-by, Feklusha, and please don’t disturb me the next few
days. I am going to rest—come in to see me in about a week. Or rather I
will write you when to come.
ELIZABETH
Come, let us go, Carl!
CARL
Wait a minute. I have waited for two hours at a time for you, so you may
wait for me a minute. Remember, Alexandrov, I will write you when to
come. But see that everything is ready, understand? It is high time for
you to stop being such a fool—you have children. Well, let us go. I hope
we won’t meet Henry now. The devil take your fancies, Liza!...
_They go out._
FEKLUSHA
_Says to Carl in the corridor_:
The door shuts itself.
CARL’S _Voice_
I know. Good-by.
FEKLUSHA
Good-by.
_Feklusha remains alone. He sits down at the table, takes out
of his pocket an envelope and a carefully folded sheet of
paper; reads_:
“I ask that no one be blamed for my death. I leave no will. Give my
servant Ivan five hundred rubles. Henry Tile.” So. Very well. He thinks
that I prepared one note, but I made two—the fool Karlusha. He is greedy,
but foolish. And he didn’t see that his note didn’t have the date, while
no one would write a note like that without dating it—foolish Carl! And
the _r_ in the other note is different from Henry’s _r_—he didn’t notice
that either in his greed. Such fools get caught.
_Goes over to the mirror, takes out a comb, combs his hair._
They’re coming out! I suppose it’s consumption—I feel cold and I
perspire—but I’ll show you my consumption!
_He walks up and down the room, examining things with contempt._
I’ll show you!
_He tries to open the locked drawer in the table, looks over
papers, and pushes them aside with contempt._
Order! Scoundrels! I’ll show you order!
_Sits down at the table and shakes his hands._
It would be fine to put a bomb under the Nicholas Bridge and blow it to
pieces—so that all would fly to hell. Yes. And I could put a bomb under
the whole city, a bomb of tens of thousands of pounds—then I would also
be blown to the devil. No, why should I? A wire could be stretched as
far as Shuvalovo and a button placed somewhere on a tree, in the woods—I
could press it once—and they would all be blown to hell! I think I’ll
wind up in a lunatic asylum—I was turning round and round, and now I
can’t disentangle myself. Oh, fiddlesticks!
_Thoughtfully_:
They’ll beat me there. They say they beat people there—they break their
ribs—that’s unpleasant. And the food, they say, is poor there—the
lunatics don’t understand, but as soon as one of them complains, they
break his ribs. They say to him, don’t lie! The lunatic has no rights
whatever, that is very unjust. Of course a lunatic may be quiet, then no
one will touch him. The wardens like the quiet lunatics. I suppose they
also suffer a great deal. Oh, yes! Of course—quietly.
_Rises and walks ever faster._
It’s easy for you to say, quietly. Yes. It’s easy for you to say it, but
for me, it’s dreadful—very dreadful.
_He turns around the room senselessly; muttering indistinctly,
without noticing that Henry Tile has entered._
HENRY
Good evening, Feklusha.
FEKLUSHA
What? What?
HENRY
I say: good evening. Why are you running round like that?
FEKLUSHA
I? Nothing. Good evening, Henry.
HENRY
You were muttering. Are you ill?
FEKLUSHA
_Laughs._
Was I? There was no one to talk to, so I was talking to myself. I have
found myself a comrade just as wise as I am.
HENRY
What were you talking about?
FEKLUSHA
My nonsense is of no interest to anybody. I was just talking about
domestic affairs. Is it raining?
HENRY
Yes, it’s raining.
_Sits down, fatigued._
FEKLUSHA
Henry, Ivan has gone out. He said you sent him away for the evening.
HENRY
Yes, I sent him away. Sit down, please, and keep quiet.
_Silence._
FEKLUSHA
What is it, Henry? Why do you look so pale—are you ill? Perhaps you ought
to see the doctor.
HENRY
No. I am well. I suppose I am tired—I had to talk a great deal at the
conference to-day—I had to discuss business. I argued with the fools and
I am tired. Are you going to stay long to-night?
FEKLUSHA
No. Just a minute. I am going soon.
_Pause._
HENRY
What a pity I have no fireplace. I thought of everything, but forgot
about a fireplace. It’s true, we have steam heat. Well?
FEKLUSHA
Henry! There has been a change in your plans. Even if you swear to me!
HENRY
Yes? Wait. What’s this odor of perfume? Yes, I can smell it. Have you
commenced to use perfume?
FEKLUSHA
You are inventing now! I can’t smell any perfume here.
HENRY
Yes, there is. But that isn’t important. What did you want to say to me?
Tell me.
FEKLUSHA
I have told you. There has been a change in your plans. Tell me the
truth, Henry, I will kneel before you. I haven’t been in church in five
years, but I will go to church now and pray for you. Tell me the truth!
HENRY
You are fond of kneeling. What truth? I am tired to-night.
FEKLUSHA
Why, my dear fellow! We have been friends—remember, when we were small,
when we were at school together. Tell me! Spare my life, I can’t endure
it any longer!
_Weeps._
HENRY
You are also crying? Strange. For some reason I see so many tears to-day.
I was at the station this afternoon.
FEKLUSHA
_Sighing, wiping his eyes with a soiled handkerchief_,
What were you doing at the station?
HENRY
I was watching the trains. No, I was sending off a letter. And there I
saw an old woman in a shawl, walking on the platform—she was alone—and
she was crying. Strange!
_Thoughtfully._
FEKLUSHA
People rarely cry in the street. Only when they are drunk or when they go
to a relative’s funeral. Henry, listen to me—or I am going to cry again!
HENRY
Really? Don’t. No, there is no change in my plan. And beginning to-morrow
you will have rest—I am leaving to-morrow.
FEKLUSHA
_Reddening_:
To-morrow? By what route?
HENRY
Tss! It is hard for me at this moment to talk to you, my old comrade, but
come in to-morrow and you will know everything.
_Smiling_:
But don’t try to run after me—you’ll not overtake me!
FEKLUSHA
Why do you say that?
HENRY
Yes, yes, you are a sly little beast!
FEKLUSHA
A fool is not helped even by his slyness—he will only fool himself. Shall
I come in early—before going to the office?
HENRY
You may come in early. Now go home and sleep peacefully, Feklusha, my old
comrade. Are your children well?
FEKLUSHA
I suppose they are well. Why have you stopped drinking cognac? Henry,
your face seems to have grown darker.
HENRY
I don’t feel like drinking. Go.
FEKLUSHA
To-day is just a month since we had our last drink of cognac. Remember?
Well, I am going, I won’t disturb you.
_Quietly_:
Have you put the money away in a safe place?
HENRY
Ssh! Keep quiet. Good night, Feklusha, go. Have you rubbers on? It’s
raining hard. Good-by, till to-morrow.
FEKLUSHA
If it’s till to-morrow, it’s not good-by, but _au revoir_. _Au revoir_,
Henry. Good night. And I tell you, you are doing well to leave this
apartment! I never said anything before, but now I may tell you: Leave it
as soon as you can! If one should stay here alone for one hour, he’d lose
his mind, by God!
HENRY
Yes, I am leaving it. Good-by.
FEKLUSHA
Good night. May I say another word? I understand everybody and I can
tell people by their faces. I can tell their inclinations, but here I am
looking at you. You are very stern!
_Softly_:
And if I didn’t know your thoughts——
HENRY
Ssh!
FEKLUSHA
_With sudden fury_:
Don’t hiss to me! There are no strangers here! What do you mean? I can
hiss, too.
_Pause._
Excuse me, Henry!
_Goes._
HENRY
The door shuts itself.
FEKLUSHA
I know, Henry.
_Goes. Henry looks after him, suddenly stops._
HENRY
Wait. It’s raining hard. Here’s money for a cab. Take it.
FEKLUSHA
Thank you. Why so much? You embarrass me, really.
HENRY
Never mind. Go.
_Feklusha stops at the door, looks at his hand._
FEKLUSHA
Henry! I am looking at my hand and I wonder. You gave me twenty-five
rubles, but why am I not rejoicing? Of course, it isn’t such a large sum,
but if this happened before, I would have felt happy. And now, I feel—or
does it seem so to me after my tears?—I feel as if I ought to get more
for my tears. Or is it figured out right?
_Without raising his eyes_:
Excuse me.
_Exit. Door is heard closing. Henry is alone. He looks at the
watch._
HENRY
It’s eleven. I must take off my collar.
_He takes off his collar, his cuffs, his coat, and places them
carefully on the armchair. He walks up and down the room
heavily and slowly. He tries to wipe the window pane, behind
which the rain is heard._
Yes. It’s eleven o’clock now, and the sun rises at about seven. How many
more hours of darkness? Many—never mind the exact number, Henry! Henry
Tile, say simply, many! Many hours, much darkness! I have never given
any thought to what people do when they end their life, when they kill
themselves, and now I feel very strange, I don’t know what to do. Perhaps
it is necessary to sit at the table, and I am walking? I must sit down.
_He sits down, but soon gets up and walks again._
No, nonsense! Suicides don’t think whether they should walk or sit. I
suppose they walk around. But where does this odor of perfume come from?
Such sweet, strange, sad perfume. Women who are young and who want love,
use such perfume. But their hearts are sad—sad perfume! Sad women, and
Elizabeth—now I don’t remember her, but there was a time when I loved
her—there was something—there was sadness. My God! Why do I say My God?
My God! I don’t know anything, I don’t remember anything, I don’t love
anybody! A murderer? A thief who has stolen a million? Henry Tile who
loved accuracy? I don’t know. There was everything—and there was nothing.
Why did I strike the table with my fists, why did I cry? Why did Henry
Tile write figures, columns of figures, an endless caravan in an endless
desert? There was everything—and there was nothing. There was a strange
man who tossed about, who shouted, who donned a red wig like a clown,
who swallowed fire. And there was another strange man who worked in the
bank, who dismissed clerks, who looked stern and who was known as Henry
Tile. What nonsense—“Henry Tile!” And who will lie in a coffin—Henry
Tile or the other one? And where shall I be? Here I have already thought
about the coffin—white, with tassels. I am terrified. Is it possible
that all is ended? I am terrified. Has _this_ really come? I have lived
and lived—and suddenly this. _This!_ How horrible! Horrible! _This!_ No!
No! I am not afraid. I am not afraid. Oh, beware of deception, beware of
deception, beware of deception! And so, the coffin, white, with tassels,
and some one is in it. Yes, of course. It is dreadful to Henry Tile with
his figures, it is dreadful to that other one who wanted to steal, to
kill some one, to violate, who put on the stupid red wig of a rogue. But
where am I? My God, great wisdom and love, answer me: Where was I with
my great, sad and lonely soul? I am no more. There is no one. There is
nothing. There is only horror—and _this_.—_This._ Henry, Henry, my dear,
be calm; you knew how to strike the table with your fist, now you must be
calm. Yes. Good. Yes. I am cold. No, I am not cold, but it is cold here.
Why did I take off my coat? I must put it on again. These are the kind of
cuffs Henry Tile used to wear.
_Forgets to put on the coat._
But this is unbearable. These empty rooms have such a terrible effect on
me—as though there was a murderer there. A murderer is hiding in every
room and waiting. It would be well to turn on the lights there, but I am
afraid to go in. But here I can do it. Oh, here I can do it.
_He turns on some more lights._
Now it is light. But what a queer strange room. And there is absolutely
no one here. I smell the odor of perfume again—who has perfume here? Have
the murderers perfume here? May the devil take the one who invented it. I
must go into the bedroom.
_Opens the drawer of the table, takes out a revolver and
examines it in a businesslike manner, puts it on the table._
I must shoot myself where I sleep. I must cover myself over my head with
the quilt, as though I were going to sleep; then I won’t notice it. Yes.
I must do something else—what? I have forgotten everything. What? Oh,
yes. I must write a note. Paper, ink, ink? No! I don’t need any notes.
That’s nonsense. There was everything—and there was nothing, and _this_.
_This._ I must go into the bedroom. What have I forgotten? My God, why do
I say, My God? My God, what have I forgotten? What?
_He sits down at the piano._
Now I will play “The Waltz of the Dogs.” Listen, Henry Tile, I will play
for you for the last time my favorite “Waltz of the Dogs.” My mother
taught me to play it this way.
_He plays, at first loudly, then ever more softly. Towards the
end, he breaks off a musical phrase, his head falls on the
piano, and he sobs softly. Then he closes the piano silently
and carefully, takes the revolver and goes to the bedroom. He
stops, and says impatiently_:
What else? Oh, what else?
_He looks around the room perplexedly._
I must—I must—what must I? I must shut off the light, yes, I must do it.
It will burn all night. Let it burn.
_He goes into the bedroom. A moment of silence. He soon comes
out of the bedroom, without a vest—he looks for something
silently, as if he has either forgotten something, or could not
find it. He is looking for something and not finding it, having
stopped thinking of what he was looking for, he goes to the
bedroom quickly._
_The room is empty for a while. A dull shot is heard._
_Curtain_