Savva and the Life of Man Part 8

I don't like the old. As to the building of the monastery, it was done by serfs, of course; and when they carried bricks they didn't sing, but quarrelled and cursed one another. That's more like it.

LIPA _(opening her eyes)_

Those are my dreams. You see, Savva, I am all alone here. I have n.o.body to talk to. Tell me--You won't be angry, will you?--Tell me, just me alone, why did you come here to us? It wasn't to pray. It wasn't for the feast-day. You don't look like a pilgrim.

SAVVA _(frowning)_

I don't like you to be so curious.

LIPA

How can you think I am? Do I look as if I were curious? You have been here for two weeks, and you ought to see that I am lonely. I am lonely, Savva. Your coming was to me like manna fallen from the sky.

You are the first living human being that has come here from over there, from real life. In Moscow I lived very quietly, just reading my books; and here--you see the sort of people we have here.

SAVVA

Do you think it's different in other places?

LIPA

I don't know. That's what I should like to find out from you. You have seen so much. You have even been abroad.

SAVVA

Only for a short time.

LIPA

That makes no difference. You have met many cultured, wise, interesting people. You have lived with them. How do they live? What kind of people are they? Tell me all about it.

SAVVA

A mean, contemptible lot.

LIPA

Is that so? You don't say so!

SAVVA

They live just as you do here--a stupid, senseless existence. The only difference is in the language they speak. But that makes it still worse. The justification for cattle is that, they are without speech. But when the cattle become articulate, begin to speak, defend themselves and express ideas then the situation becomes intolerable, unmitigatedly repulsive. Their dwelling-places are different too--yes--but that's a small thing. I was in a city inhabited by a hundred thousand people. The windows in the house of that city are all small. Those living in them are all fond of light, but it never occurs to anyone that the windows might be made larger. And when a new house is built, they put in the same kind of windows, just as small, just as they have always been.

LIPA

The idea! I never would have thought it. But they can't all be like that. You must have met good people who knew how to live.

SAVVA

I don't know how to make you understand. Yes, I did meet, if not altogether good people, yet--The last people with whom I lived were a pretty good sort. They didn't accept life ready-made, but tried to make it over to suit themselves. But--

LIPA

Who were they--students?

SAVVA

No. Look here--how about your tongue--is it of the loose kind?

LIPA

Savva, you ought to be ashamed!

SAVVA

All right. Now then. You've read of people who make bombs--little bombs, you understand? Now if they see anybody who interferes with life, they take him off. They're called anarchists. But that isn't quite correct. _(Contemptuously)_ Nice anarchists they are!

LIPA _(starting back, awestruck)_

What are you talking about? You can't possibly be in earnest. It isn't true. And you in it, too? Why, you look so simple and talk so simply, and suddenly--I was hot a moment ago, but now I am cold, _(The rooster crows-under the window, calling the chickens to share some seed he has found)_

SAVVA

There now--you're frightened. First you want me to tell you, and then--

LIPA

Don't mind me, Savva, it's nothing. It was so unexpected. I thought such people didn't really exist--that they were just a fiction of the imagination. And then, all of a sudden, to find you, my brother--You are not joking, Savva? Look me straight in the eye.

SAVVA

But why did you get frightened? They are not so terrible after all. In fact, they are very quiet, orderly people, and very deliberate. They meet and meet, and weigh and consider a long time, and then--bang!--a sparrow drops dead. The next minute there is another sparrow in its place, hopping about on the very same branch. Why are you looking at my hands?

LIPA

Oh, nothing. Give me your hand--no, your right hand.

SAVVA

Here.

LIPA

How heavy it is. Feel how cold mine are. Go on, tell me all about it.

It's so interesting.

SAVVA

What's there to tell? They are a brave set of people, I must admit; but it is a bravery of the head, not of the hands. And their heads are part.i.tioned off into little chambers; they are always careful not to do anything which is unnecessary or harmful. Now you can't clear a dense forest by cutting down one tree at a time, can you? That's what they do. While they chop at one end, it grows up at the other. You can't accomplish anything that way; it's labor lost. I proposed a scheme to them, something on a larger scale. They got frightened, wouldn't hear of it. A little weak-kneed they are. So I left them.