Plays by Aleksandr Nikolaevich Ostrovsky Part 60

Samson Silych, I'll just take a thimbleful. [_Drinks_.

BOLSHoV. Not yet. We'll talk it over to-day. He's a capable lad; only wink at him, and he understands. And he'll do the business up so tight that you can't get in a finger. Well! we'll mortgage the house; and then what?

RISPOLoZHENSKY. Then we'll write out a statement that such and such notes are due, and that we'll pay twenty-five kopeks on the ruble: well, then go see the creditors. If anybody is especially stubborn, you can add a bit, and if a man gets real angry, pay him the whole bill. You'll pay him on the condition that he writes that he accepted twenty-five kopeks--just for appearances, to show the others. "That's the way _he_ did," you see; and the others, seeing the doc.u.ment, will agree.

BOLSHoV. That's right, there's no harm in bargaining: if they don't take it at twenty-five kopeks, they'll take it at half a ruble; but if they won't take it at half a ruble, they'll grab for it with both hands at seventy kopeks. We'll profit, anyhow. There, you can say what you please, but I have a marriageable daughter; I want to pa.s.s her on, and get rid of her.

And then, my boy, it'll be time for me to take a rest; I'll have an easy time lying on my back; and to the devil with all this trading! But here comes Lazar.

SCENE XI

_The same and_ PODKHALYuZIN, _who enters_

BOLSHoV. What do you say, Lazar? Just come from town? How are your affairs?

PODKHALYuZIN. Oh, they're getting on so-so; thank G.o.d, sir! Good morning, Sysoy Psoich! [_Bows_.

RISPOLoZHENSKY. How do you do, my dear Lazar Elizarych! [_Bows_.

BOLSHoV. If they're getting on, let 'em get. [_After a short silence_] But, look here, Lazar, when you make up the balance for me at your leisure, you might deduct the retail items sold to the gentry, and the rest of that sort of thing. You see, we're trading and trading, my boy, but there's not a kopek of profit in it. Maybe the clerks are going wrong and are carrying off stuff to their folks and mistresses. You ought to give 'em a word of advice. What's the use of fooling around without making any profits? Don't they know the tricks of the trade? It's high time, it seems to me.

PODKHALYuZIN. How in the world can they help knowing, Samson Silych? It seems as if I were always in town and always talking to them, sir.

BOLSHoV. But what do you say?

PODKHALYuZIN. Why, the usual thing, sir. I try to have everything in order and as it should be. "Now, my boys," I say, "look sharp, now. Maybe there's a chance for a sale; some idiot of a purchaser may turn up, or a colored pattern may catch some young lady's eye, and click!" I say, "you add a ruble or two to the price per yard."

BOLSHoV. I suppose you know, brother, how the Germans in our shops swindle the gentlemen. Even if we're not Germans, but orthodox Christians, we, too, like to eat stuffed pasties. Ain't that so? Ha?

RISPOLoZHENSKY _laughs._

PODKHALYuZIN. Why certainly, sir. "And you must measure," I say, "more naturally: pull and stretch ju-u-u-st enough, G.o.d save us, not to tear the cloth: you see," I say, "we don't have to wear it afterwards. Well, and if they look the other way, n.o.body's to blame if you should happen to measure one yard of cloth twice."

BOLSHoV. It's all one. I suppose the tailor'd steal it. Ha? He'd steal it, I suppose?

RISPOLoZHENSKY. He'd steal it, Samson Silych, certainly that rascal would steal it; I know these tailors.

BOLSHoV. That's it; the whole lot of them are rascals, and we get the thanks.

RISPOLoZHENSKY. Quite right, Samson Silych, you're certainly speaking the truth.

BOLSHoV. Ah, Lazar, profits are rotten these days: it's not as it used to be. [_After a moment of silence_] Well, did you bring the paper?

PODKHALYuZIN. [_Taking it from his pocket and handing it over_] Be so good as to read it, sir.

BOLSHoV. Just give it here; we'll take a look. [_He puts on his spectacles and examines the paper_.

RISPOLoZHENSKY. Samson Silych, I'll just take a thimbleful. _He drinks, then puts on his spectacles, sits down beside_ BOLSHoV, _and looks at the newspapers_.

BOLSHoV. [_Reads aloud_] "Crown announcements, and from various societies.

One, two, three, four, five, and six, from the Foundlings' Hospital."

That's not in our line: it's not for us to buy peasants. "Seven and eight from Moscow University, from the Government Regencies, from the Office of the Board of Charities." Well, we'll pa.s.s that up, too. "From the City Council of Six." Now, sir, maybe there's something here! [_He reads_] "The Moscow City Council of Six hereby announces: Would not some one care to take in his charge the collection of taxes as named below?" That's not our line, you have to give security. "The Office of the Widows' Home hereby invites--" Let it invite, we won't go. "From the Orphans' Court." I haven't any father or mother, myself. [_Examines farther_] Aha! Here something's slipped up! Listen here, Lazar! "Year so-and-so, twelfth day of September, according to the decision of the Commerce Court, the merchant Fedot Seliverstov Pleshkov, of the first guild, was declared an insolvent debtor, in consequence of which--" What's the use of explaining? Everybody knows the consequences. There you are, Fedot Seliverstov! What a grandee he was, and he's gone to smas.h.!.+ But say, Lazar, doesn't he owe us something?

PODKHALYuZIN. He owes us a very little, sir. They took somewhere between six and eight barrels of sugar for home use.

BOLSHoV. A bad business, Lazar. Well, he'll pay me back in full, out of friendliness.

PODKHALYuZIN. It's doubtful, Sir.

BOLSHoV. We'll settle it somehow. [_Reads_] "Moscow merchant of the first guild, Antip Sysoyev Enotov, declared an insolvent debtor--" Does _he_ owe us anything?

PODKHALYuZIN. For vegetable oil, sir; just before Lent they took about three kegs, sir.

BOLSHoV. Those blooming vegetarians that keep all the fasts! They want to please G.o.d at other people's expense. Brother, don't you trust their sedate ways! Those people cross themselves with one hand, and slip the other into your pocket. Here's the third; "Moscow merchant of the second guild, Efrem Lukin Poluars.h.i.+nnikov[1], declared an insolvent debtor." Well, what about him?

[Footnote 1: Half a yard.]

PODKHALYuZIN. We have his note, sir.

BOLSHoV. Protested?

PODKHALYuZIN. Yes, sir. He himself's in hiding, sir.

BOLSHoV. Well! And the fourth there, Samopalov. Why! have they got a combination against us?

PODKHALYuZIN. Such an underhanded gang, sir.

BOLSHoV. [_Turning over the pages_] One couldn't get through reading them until to-morrow. Take it away!

PODKHALYuZIN. They only dirty the paper. What a moral lesson for the whole merchant corporation! [_Silence_.

RISPOLoZHENSKY. Good-by, Samson Silych, I'll run home now; I have some little matters to look after.

BOLSHoV. You might sit a little while longer.

RISPOLoZHENSKY. No, confound it, Samson Silych, I haven't time. I'll come to you as early as possible to-morrow morning.

BOLSHoV. Well, as you choose!

RISPOLoZHENSKY. Good-by! Good-by, Lazar Elizarych! [_He goes out_.

SCENE XII

BOLSHoV _and_ PODKHALYuZIN