_"The Waste," a yard strewn with rubbish and overgrown with weeds.
Back, a high brick wall which shuts out the sight of the sky. Near it
are elder bushes. Right, the dark, wooden wall of some sort of house,
barn or stable. Left, the grey, tumbledown wall of Kostilyoff's night
asylum. It is built at an angle so that the further corner reaches
almost to the centre of the yard. Between it and the wall runs a
narrow passage. In the grey, plastered wall are two windows, one on a
level with the ground, the other about six feet higher up and closer
to the brick wall. Near the latter wall is a big sledge turned upside
down and a beam about twelve feet long. Right of the wall is a heap of
old planks. Evening. The sun is setting, throwing a crimson light on
the brick wall. Early spring, the snow having only recently melted.
The elder bushes are not yet in bud._
_Natasha and Nastya are sitting side by side on the beam. Luka and the
Baron are on the sledge. Kleshtch is stretched on the pile of planks
to the right. Bubnoff's face is at the ground floor window._
NASTYA [_with closed eyes, nodding her head in rhythm to the tale she
is telling in a sing-song voice_] So then at night he came into the
garden. I had been waiting for him quite a while. I trembled with fear
and grief--he trembled, too . . . he was as white as chalk--and he had
the pistol in his hand . . .
NATASHA [_chewing sun-flower seeds_] Oh--are these students really
such desperate fellows . . . ?
NASTYA. And he says to me in a dreadful voice: "My precious darling
. . ."
BUBNOFF. Ho-ho! Precious--?
THE BARON. Shut up! If you don't like it, you can lump it! But don't
interrupt her. . . . Go on . . .
NASTYA. "My one and only love," he says, "my parents," he says,
"refuse to give their consent to our wedding--and threaten to disown
me because of my love for you. Therefore," he says, "I must take my
life." And his pistol was huge--and loaded with ten bullets . . .
"Farewell," he says, "beloved comrade! I have made up my mind for good
and all . . . I can't live without you . . ." and I replied: "My
unforgettable friend--my Raoul. . . ."
BUBNOFF [_surprised_] What? What? Krawl--did you call him--?
THE BARON. Nastka! But last time his name was Gaston. . . .
NASTYA [_jumping up_] Shut up, you bastards! Ah--you lousy mongrels!
You think for a moment that you can understand love--true love? My
love was real honest-to-God love! [_To the Baron_] You
good-for-nothing! . . . educated, you call yourself--drinking coffee
in bed, did you?
LUKA. Now, now! Wait, people! Don't interfere! Show a little respect
to your neighbors . . . it isn't the word that matters, but what's in
back of the word. That's what matters! Go on, girl! It's all right!
BUBNOFF. Go on, crow! See if you can make your feathers white!
THE BARON. Well--continue!
NATASHA. Pay no attention to them . . . what are they? They're just
jealous . . . they've nothing to tell about themselves . . .
NASTYA [_sits down again_] I'm going to say no more! If they don't
believe me they'll laugh. [_Stops suddenly, is silent for a few
seconds, then, shutting her eyes, continues in a loud and intense
voice, swaying her hands as if to the rhythm of far music_] And then I
replied to him: "Joy of my life! My bright moon! And I, too, I can't
live without you--because I love you madly, so madly--and I shall keep
on loving you as long as my heart beats in my bosom. But--" I
say--"don't take your young life! Think how necessary it is to your
dear parents whose only happiness you are. Leave me! Better that I
should perish from longing for you, my life! I alone! I--ah--as such,
such! Better that I should die--it doesn't matter . . . I am of no use
to the world--and I have nothing, nothing at all--" [_Covers her face
with her hand and weeps gently_]
NATASHA [_in a low voice_] Don't cry--don't!
[_Luka, smiling, strokes Nastya's head._]
BUBNOFF [_laughs_] Ah--you limb of Satan!
THE BARON [_also laughs_] Hey, old man? Do you think it's true? It's
all from that book "Fatal Love" . . . it's all nonsense! Let her
alone!
NATASHA. And what's it to you? Shut up--or God'll punish you!
NASTYA [_bitterly_] God damn your soul! You worthless pig!
Soul--bah!--you haven't got one!
LUKA [_takes Nastya's hand_] Come, dear! It's nothing! Don't be
angry--I know--I believe you! You're right, not they! If you believe
you had a real love affair, then you did--yes! And as for him--don't
be angry with a fellow-lodger . . . maybe he's really jealous, and
that's why he's laughing. Maybe he never had any real love--maybe
not--come on--let's go!
NASTYA [_pressing her hand against her breast_] Grandfather! So help
me God--it happened! It happened! He was a student, a
Frenchman--Gastotcha was his name--he had a little black beard--and
patent leathers--may God strike me dead if I'm lying! And he loved me
so--my God, how he loved me!
LUKA. Yes, yes, it's all right. I believe you! Patent leathers, you
said? Well, well, well--and you loved him, did you? [_Disappears with
her around the corner_]
THE BARON. God--isn't she a fool, though? She's good-hearted--but such
a fool--it's past belief!
BUBNOFF. And why are people so fond of lying--just as if they were up
before the judge--really!
NATASHA. I guess lying is more fun than speaking the truth--I,
too . . .
THE BARON. What--you, too? Go on!