Private room in a cheap restaurant. FÉDYA is shown in by a shabby
waiter.
WAITER. This way, sir. No one will disturb you here. Here's the
writing paper.
[Starts to exit.
FÉDYA (as waiter starts to exit). Bring me a bottle of champagne.
WAITER. Yes, sir.
[Exits R. C.
[FÉDYA sits at table L. C., and begins to write. IVÁN PETROVICH
appearing in the doorway R. C.
IVÁN PETROVICH. I'll come in, shall I?
FÉDYA (sitting L. of table L. C. Very serious). If you want to, but
I'm awfully busy, and--(seeing he has already entered) Oh, all right,
do come in.
IVÁN PETROVICH (C.). You're going to write an answer to their demand.
I'll help you. I'll tell you what to say Speak out. Say what you mean.
It's straight from the shoulder. That's my system. (Picks up box that
FÉDYA has placed on table--opens it and takes out a revolver.) Hallo!
What's this? Going to shoot yourself. Of course, why not? I
understand. They want to humiliate you, and you show them where the
courage is--put a bullet through your head and heap coals of fire on
theirs. I understand perfectly. (The waiter enters with champagne on
tray, pours a glass for FÉDYA, then exits. PETROVICH takes up the
glass of wine and starts to drink. FÉDYA looks up from his writing.) I
understand everything and everybody, because I'm a genius.
FÉDYA. So you are, but----
IVÁN PETROVICH (filling and lifting his glass). Here's to your
immortal journey. May it be swift and pleasant. Oh, I see it from your
point of view. So why should I stop you? Life and death are the same
to genius. I'm dead during life and I live after death. You kill
yourself in order to make a few people miss you, but I--but I--am
going to kill myself to make the whole world know what it lost. I
won't hesitate or think about it. I'll just take the revolver--one,
two--and all is over--um. But I am premature. My hour is not yet
struck. (He puts the revolver down.) But I shall write nothing. The
world will have to understand all by itself. (FÉDYA continues to
write.) The world, what is it but a mass of preposterous creatures,
who crawl around through life, understanding nothing--nothing at all
--do you hear me? (FÉDYA looks up, rather exasperated.) Oh, I'm not
talking to you. All this is between me and the cosmos. (Pours himself
out another drink.) After all, what does humanity most lack?
Appreciation for its geniuses. As it is, we're persecuted, tortured,
racked, through a lifetime of perpetual agony, into the asylum or the
grave. But no longer will I be their bauble. Humanity, hypocrite that
you are--to hell with you.
[Drinks wine.
FÉDYA (having finished his letter). Oh, go away, please.
IVÁN PETROVICH. Away? (With a gesture.) Away? Me? (With profound
resolve.) So be it. (He leans over the table, faces FÉDYA.) I shall
away. I'll not deter you from accomplishing what I also shall commit--
all in its proper moment, however. Only I should like to say this----
FÉDYA. Later. Later. But now, listen, old man, give this to the head
waiter. (Handing him some money.) You understand?
IVÁN PETROVICH. Yes, but for God's sake wait for me to come back.
(Moves away.) I've something rare to tell you, something you'll never
hear in the next world--at least not till I get there---- Look here,
shall I give him all this money?
FÉDYA. No, just what I owe him.
[Exit IVÁN PETROVICH, whistling. FÉDYA sighs with a sense of
relief, takes the revolver, cocks it, stands at mirror on wall
up R., and puts it close to his temple. Then shivers, and lets
his hand drop.
I can't do it. I can't do it.
[Pause. MASHA is heard singing. MASHA bursts into the room.
MASHA (breathless). I've been everywhere looking for you. To Popov's,
Afrémov's, then I guessed you'd be here. (Crosses to him. Sees
revolver, turns, faces him quickly, concealing it with her body,
stands very tense and taut, looking at him.) Oh, you fool! You hideous
fool! Did you think you'd----
FÉDYA (still completely unnerved). Awful! It's been awful! I tried----
(With a gesture of despair.) I couldn't----
[Crosses to table L. C.--leans against it.
MASHA (puts her hand to her face as if terribly hurt). As if I didn't
exist. (Crosses over to table L. C., puts down revolver.) As if I
weren't in your life at all. Oh, how godless you are! (Brokenly.) Tell
me, tell me, what about all my love for you?
FÉDYA (as if suddenly aware of a great fatigue). I wanted to set them
free. I promised to--and when the time came I couldn't.
MASHA. And what about me? What about me?
FÉDYA. I thought you'd be free, too. Surely my torturing you can't
make you happy.
MASHA. Oh, I can look out for myself. Maybe I'd rather be unhappy,
miserable, wretched with you every minute than even think of living
without you.
FÉDYA (up R.--half to himself). If I'd finished just now, you would
have cried bitterly perhaps, my Masha, but you would have lived past
it.
MASHA. Oh, damn you, don't be so sure I'd cry at all. Can't you even
be sorry for me?
[She tries to conceal her tears.
FÉDYA. Oh God, I only wanted to make everybody happier.
MASHA. Yourself happier, you mean.
FÉDYA (smiling). Would I have been happier to be dead now?
MASHA (sulkily). I suppose you would. (Suddenly in a tender voice,
crossing to him.) But, Fédya, do you know what you want? Tell me, what
do you want?
FÉDYA (R). I want so many things.
MASHA (impatiently and clinging to him). But what? What?
FÉDYA. First of all, I want to set them free. How can I lie? How can I
crawl through the muck and filth of a divorce? I can't. (Moves to end
of table and stands there facing front.) But I must set them free
somehow. They're such good people, my wife and Victor. I can't bear
having them suffer.
MASHA (R. of table L. C.--scornfully). Where's the good in her if she
left you?
FÉDYA. She didn't. I left her.
MASHA. She made you think she'd be happier without you. But go on----
(Impatiently.) Blame yourself, what else.
FÉDYA. There's you, Masha. Young, lovely, awfully dear to me. If I
stay alive, ah, where will you be?
MASHA. Don't bother about me. You can't hurt me.
FÉDYA (sighing). But the big reason, the biggest reason of all, is
myself. I'm just lost. Your father is right, my dear. I'm no good.
MASHA (crossing to him, at once tenderly and savagely). I won't
unfasten myself from you. I'll stick to you, no matter where you take
me, no matter what you do. You're alive, terribly alive, and I love
you. Fédya, drop all this horror.
FÉDYA. How can I?
MASHA (trying to project the very essence of her vitality into him).
Oh, you can, you can.
FÉDYA (slowly). When I look at you, I feel as though I could do
anything.
MASHA (proudly, fondly). My love, my love. You can do anything, get
anywhere you want to. (FÉDYA moves away impatiently up R. She sees
letter.) So you have been writing to them--to tell them you'll kill
yourself. You just told them you'd kill yourself, is that it? But you
didn't say anything about a revolver. Oh, Fédya, let me think, there
must be some way. Fédya--listen to me. Do you remember the day we all
went to the picnic to the White Lakes with Mama and Afrémov and the
young Cossack officer? And you buried the bottles of wine in the sand
to keep them cool while we went in bathing? Do you remember how you
took my hands and drew me out beyond the waves till the water was
quite silent and flashing almost up to our throats, and then suddenly
it seemed as if there were nothing under our feet? We tried to get
back. We couldn't and you shouted out, "Afrémov," and if he hadn't
been almost beside us and pulled us in--and how cross he was with you
for forgetting that you couldn't swim, and after, how wonderful it was
to stretch out safely on the sands in the sunlight. Oh, how nice every
one was to us that day and you kept on being so sorry for forgetting
you couldn't swim! And, Fédya, don't you see? Of course, she must know
you can't swim. Oh, it's all getting as clear as daylight. You will
send her this beautiful letter. Your clothes will be found on the
river bank--but instead of being in the river you will be far away
with me--Fédya, don't you see, don't you see? You will be dead to her,
but alive for me. (Embraces FÉDYA.)
[The lights down and out.
CURTAIN