_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 sit 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. There 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?