Redemption and two other plays Part 64

FIRST PEASANT. Who might that man be?

JACOB. He used to be our master's cook. He comes to see Loukerya.

FIRST PEASANT. Kitchen-master, as one might say. Then, does he live here?

JACOB. No, they won't allow that. He's here one day, there another. If he's got a copper he goes to a dosshouse; but when he has drunk all, he comes here.

SECOND PEASANT. How did he come to this?

JACOB. Simply grew weak. And what a man he used to be--like a gentleman! Went about with a gold watch; got forty roubles a month wages. And now look at him! He'd have starved to death long ago if it hadn't been for Loukerya.

[Enter SERVANTS' COOK with the sour cabbage.

JACOB (to SERVANTS' COOK). I see you've got Paul Petrovitch here again?

SERVANTS' COOK. And where's he to go to? Is he to go and freeze?

THIRD PEASANT. What liquor does.... Liquor, let's say....

[Clicks his tongue sympathetically.

SECOND PEASANT. Of course. A firm man's firm as a rock; a weak man's weaker than water.

DISCHARGED COOK (gets off the oven with trembling hands and legs).

Loukerya, I say, give us a drop!

SERVANTS' COOK. What are you up to? I'll give you such a drop!...

DISCHARGED COOK. Have you no conscience? I'm dying! Brothers, a copper....

SERVANTS' COOK. Get back on the oven, I tell you!

DISCHARGED COOK. Half a gla.s.s only, cook, for Heaven's sake! I say, do you understand? I ask you in the name of Heaven, now!

SERVANTS' COOK. Come along, here's some tea for you.

DISCHARGED COOK. Tea; what is tea? Weak, sloppy stuff. A little vodka --just one little drop.... Loukerya!

THIRD PEASANT. Poor old soul, what agony it is!

SECOND PEASANT. You'd better give him some.

SERVANTS' COOK (gets out a bottle and fills a wine-gla.s.s). Here you are; you'll get no more.

DISCHARGED COOK (clutches hold of it and drinks, trembling all over).

Loukerya, Cook! I am drinking, and you must understand....

SERVANTS' COOK. Now, then, stop your chatter! Get on to the oven, and let not a breath of you be heard!

[The old COOK meekly begins to climb up, muttering something to himself.

SECOND PEASANT. What it is, when a man gives way to his weakness!

FIRST PEASANT. That's just it--human weakness.

THIRD PEASANT. That goes without saying.

[The DISCHARGED COOK settles down, muttering all the time.

[Silence.

SECOND PEASANT. I want to ask you something: that girl of Aksinya's as comes from our village and is living here. How is she? What is she like? How is she living--I mean, does she live honest?

JACOB. She's a nice girl; one can say nothing but good of her.

SERVANTS' COOK. I'll tell you straight, daddy; I know this here establishment out and out, and if you mean to have Tanya for your son's wife--be quick about it, before she comes to grief, or else she'll not escape!

JACOB. Yes, that's true. A while ago we had a girl here, Nataly. She was a good girl too. And she was lost without rhyme or reason. No better than that chap!

[Pointing to the old COOK.

SERVANTS' COOK. There's enough to dam a mill-pool, with the likes of us, as peris.h.!.+ 'Cos why, every one is tempted by the easy life and the good food. And see there,--as soon as one has tasted the good food she goes and slips. And once she's slipped, they don't want her, but get a fresh one in her place. So it was with dear little Nataly; she also slipped, and they turned her out. She had a child and fell ill, and died in the hospital last spring. And what a girl she used to be!

THIRD PEASANT. Oh, Lord! People are weak; they ought to be pitied.

DISCHARGED COOK. Those devils pity? No fear! (He hangs his legs down from the oven.) I have stood roasting myself by the kitchen range for thirty years, and now that I am not wanted, I may go and die like a dog.... Pity indeed!...

FIRST PEASANT. That's just it. It's the old circ.u.mstances.

SECOND PEASANT. While they drank and they fed, you were "curly head."

When they'd finished the prog, 'twas "Get out, mangy dog!"

THIRD PEASANT. Oh Lord!

DISCHARGED COOK. Much you know. What is "Sautey a la Bongmont"? What is "Bava.s.sary"? Oh, the things I could make! Think of it! The Emperor tasted my work, and now the devils want me no longer. But I am not going to stand it!

SERVANTS' COOK. Now, then, stop that noise, mind.... Get up right into the corner, so that no one can see you, or else Theodore Ivanitch or some one may come in, and both you and me'll be turned out!

[Silence.

JACOB. And do you know my part of the country? I'm from Voznesensky.

SECOND PEASANT. Not know it? Why, it's no more'n ten miles from our village; not that across the ford! Do you cultivate any land there?

JACOB. My brother does, and I send my wages. Though I live here, I am dying for a sight of home.

FIRST PEASANT. That's just it.