_A cellar resembling a cave. The ceiling, which merges into stone
walls, is low and grimy, and the plaster and paint are peeling off.
There is a window, high up on the right wall, from which comes the
light. The right corner, which constitutes Pepel's room, is
partitioned off by thin boards. Close to the corner of this room is
Bubnoff's wooden bunk. In the left corner stands a large Russian
stove. In the stone wall, left, is a door leading to the kitchen where
live Kvashnya, the Baron, and Nastya. Against the wall, between the
stove and the door, is a large bed covered with dirty chintz. Bunks
line the walls. In the foreground, by the left wall, is a block of
wood with a vise and a small anvil fastened to it, and another smaller
block of wood somewhat further towards the back. Kleshtch is seated on
the smaller block, trying keys into old locks. At his feet are two
large bundles of various keys, wired together, also a battered tin
samovar, a hammer, and pincers. In the centre are a large table, two
benches, and a stool, all of which are of dirty, unpainted wood.
Behind the table Kvashnya is busying herself with the samovar. The
Baron sits chewing a piece of black bread, and Nastya occupies the
stool, leans her elbows on the table, and reads a tattered book. In
the bed, behind curtains, Anna lies coughing. Bubnoff is seated on his
bunk, attempting to shape a pair of old trousers with the help of an
ancient hat shape which he holds between his knees. Scattered about
him are pieces of buckram, oilcloth, and rags. Satine, just awakened,
lies in his bunk, grunting. On top of the stove, the Actor, invisible
to the audience, tosses about and coughs._
_It is an early spring morning._
THE BARON. And then?
KVASHNYA. No, my dear, said I, keep away from me with such proposals.
I've been through it all, you see--and not for a hundred baked
lobsters would I marry again!
BUBNOFF [_to Satine_] What are you grunting about? [_Satine keeps on
grunting_]
KVASHNYA. Why should I, said I, a free woman, my own mistress, enter
my name into somebody else's passport and sell myself into
slavery--no! Why--I wouldn't marry a man even if he were an American
prince!
KLESHTCH. You lie!
KVASHNYA. Wha-at?
KLESHTCH. You lie! You're going to marry Abramka. . . .
THE BARON [_snatching the book out of Nastya's hand and reading the
title_] "Fatal Love" . . . [_Laughs_]
NASTYA [_stretching out her hand_] Give it back--give it back! Stop
fooling!
[_The Baron looks at her and waves the book in the air_]
KVASHNYA [_to Kleshtch_] You crimson goat, you--calling me a liar! How
dare you be so rude to me?
THE BARON [_hitting Nastya on the head with the book_] Nastya, you
little fool!
NASTYA [_reaching for the book_] Give it back!
KLESHTCH. Oh--what a great lady . . . but you'll marry Abramka just
the same--that's all you're waiting for . . .
KVASHNYA. Sure! Anything else? You nearly beat your wife to death!
KLESHTCH. Shut up, you old bitch! It's none of your business!
KVASHNYA. Ho-ho! can't stand the truth, can you?
THE BARON. They're off again! Nastya, where are you?
NASTYA [_without lifting her head_] Hey--go away!
ANNA [_putting her head through the curtains_] The day has started.
For God's sake, don't row!
KLESHTCH. Whining again!
ANNA. Every blessed day . . . let me die in peace, can't you?
BUBNOFF. Noise won't keep you from dying.
KVASHNYA [_walking up to Anna_] Little mother, how did you ever manage
to live with this wretch?
ANNA. Leave me alone--get away from me. . . .
KVASHNYA. Well, well! You poor soul . . . how's the pain in the
chest--any better?
THE BARON. Kvashnya! Time to go to market. . . .
KVASHNYA. We'll go presently. [_To Anna_] Like some hot dumplings?
ANNA. No, thanks. Why should I eat?
KVASHNYA. You must eat. Hot food--good for you! I'll leave you some in
a cup. Eat them when you feel like it. Come on, sir! [_To Kleshtch_]
You evil spirit! [_Goes into kitchen_]
ANNA [_coughing_] Lord, Lord . . .
THE BARON [_painfully pushing forward Nastya's head_] Throw it
away--little fool!
NASTYA [_muttering_] Leave me alone--I don't bother you . . .
[_The Baron follows Kvashnya, whistling._]
SATINE [_sitting up in his bunk_] Who beat me up yesterday?
BUBNOFF. Does it make any difference who?
SATINE. Suppose they did--but why did they?
BUBNOFF. Were you playing cards?
SATINE. Yes!
BUBNOFF. That's why they beat you.
SATINE. Scoundrels!
THE ACTOR [_raising his head from the top of the stove_] One of these
days they'll beat you to death!
SATINE. You're a jackass!
THE ACTOR. Why?
SATINE. Because a man can die only once!