The Power of Darkness Part 13

ANiSYA. I know nothing about it. Ivan Moseitch advised us at the time.

"Put the money in the bank," he said, "the money will be safe, and you'll get interest," he said.

MiTRITCH [having finished his supper] That's so. I've lived with a tradesman. They all do like that. Put the money in the bank, then lie down on the oven and it will keep coming in.

AKiM. That's queer talk. How's that--what d'ye call, coming in, how's that coming in, and they, who do they get it from I mean, the money I mean?

ANiSYA. They take the money out of the bank.

MiTRITCH. Get along! 'Tain't a thing a woman can understand! You look here, I'll make it all clear to you. Mind and remember. You see, suppose you've got some money, and I, for instance, have spring coming on, my land's idle, I've got no seeds, or I have to pay taxes. So, you see, I go to you. "Akim," I say, "give us a ten-rouble note, and when I've harvested in autumn I'll return it, and till two acres for you besides, for having obliged me!" And you, seeing I've something to fall back on--a horse say, or a cow--you say, "No, give two or three roubles for the obligation," and there's an end of it. I'm stuck in the mud, and can't do without. So I say, "All right!" and take a tenner. In the autumn, when I've made my turnover, I bring it back, and you squeeze the extra three roubles out of me.

AKiM. Yes, but that's what peasants do when they what d'ye call it, when they forget G.o.d. It's not honest, I mean, it's no good, I mean.

MiTRITCH. You wait. You'll see it comes just to the same thing. Now don't forget how you've skinned me. And Anisya, say, has got some money lying idle. She does not know what to do with it, besides, she's a woman, and does not know how to use it. She comes to you. "Couldn't you make some profit with my money too?" she says. "Why not?" say you, and you wait. Before the summer I come again and say, "Give me another tenner, and I'll be obliged." Then you find out if my hide isn't all gone, and if I can be skinned again you give me Anisya's money. But supposing I'm clean shorn,--have nothing to eat,--then you see I can't be fleeced any more, and you say, "Go your way, friend," and you look out for another, and lend him your own and Anisya's money and skin him.

That's what the bank is. So it goes round and round. It's a cute thing, old fellow!

AKiM [excitedly] Gracious me, whatever is that like? It's what d'ye call it, it's filthy! The peasants--what d'ye call it, the peasants do so I mean, and know it's, what d'ye call it, a sin! It's what d'you call, not right, not right, I mean. It's filthy! How can people as have learnt ...

what d'ye call it ...

MiTRITCH. That, old fellow, is just what they're fond of! And remember, them that are stupid, or the women folk, as can't put their money into use themselves, they take it to the bank, and they there, deuce take 'em, clutch hold of it, and with this money they fleece the people. It's a cute thing!

AKiM [sighing] Oh dear, I see, what d'ye call it, without money it's bad, and with money it's worse! How's that? G.o.d told us to work, but you, what d'ye call ... I mean you put money into the bank and go to sleep, and the money will what d'ye call it, will feed you while you sleep. It's filthy, that's what I call it; it's not right.

MiTRITCH. Not right? Eh, old fellow, who cares about that nowadays? And how clean they pluck you, too! That's the fact of the matter.

AKiM [sighs] Ah yes, seems the time's what d'ye call it, the time's growing ripe. There, I've had a look at the closets in town. What they've come to! It's all polished and polished I mean, it's fine, it's what d'ye call it, it's like inside an inn. And what's it all for?

What's the good of it? Oh, they've forgotten G.o.d. Forgotten, I mean.

We've forgotten, forgotten G.o.d, G.o.d I mean! Thank you, my dear, I've had enough. I'm quite satisfied. [Rises. Mitritch climbs on to the oven].

ANiSYA [eats, and collects the dishes] If his father would only take him to task! But I'm ashamed to tell him.

AKiM. What d'you say?

ANiSYA. Oh! it's nothing.

Enter Nan.

AKiM. Here's a good girl, always busy! You're cold, I should think?

NAN. Yes, I am, terribly. How d'you do, grandfather?

ANiSYA. Well? Is he there?

NAN. No. But Andriyan is there. He's been to town, and he says he saw them at an inn in town. He says Dad's as drunk as drunk can be!

ANiSYA. Do you want anything to eat? Here you are.

NAN [goes to the oven] Well, it _is_ cold. My hands are quite numb.

[Akim takes off his leg-bands and bast-shoes. Anisya washes up].

ANiSYA. Father!

AKiM. Well, what is it?

ANiSYA. And is Marina living well?

AKiM. Yes, she's living all right. The little woman is what d'ye call it, clever and steady; she's living, and what d'ye call it, doing her best. She's all right; the little woman's of the right sort I mean; painstaking and what d'ye call it, submissive; the little woman's all right I mean, all right, you know.

ANiSYA. And is there no talk in your village that a relative of Marina's husband thinks of marrying our Akoulina? Have you heard nothing of it?

AKiM. Ah; that's Mironof. Yes, the women did chatter something. But I didn't pay heed, you know. It don't interest me I mean, I don't know anything. Yes, the old women did say something, but I've a bad memory, bad memory, I mean. But the Mironofs are what d'ye call it, they're all right, I mean they're all right.

ANiSYA. I'm that impatient to get her settled.

AKiM. And why?

NAN [listens] They've come!

ANiSYA. Well, don't you go bothering them. [Goes on was.h.i.+ng the spoons without turning her head].

NIKiTA [enters] Anisya! Wife! who has come? [Anisya looks up and turns away in silence].

NIKiTA [severely] Who has come? Have you forgotten?

ANiSYA. Now don't humbug. Come in!

NIKiTA [still more severely] Who's come?

ANiSYA [goes up and takes him by the arm] Well then, husband has come.

Now then, come in!

NIKiTA [holds back] Ah, that's it! Husband! And what's husband called?

Speak properly.

ANiSYA. Oh bother you! Nikita!

NIKiTA. Where have you learnt manners? The full name.

ANiSYA. Nikita Akimitch! Now then!

NIKiTA [still in the doorway] Ah, that's it! But now--the surname?

ANiSYA [laughs and pulls him by the arm] Tchilikin. Dear me, what airs!

NIKiTA. Ah, that's it. [Holds on to the door-post] No, now say with which foot Tchilikin steps into this house!

ANiSYA. That's enough! You're letting the cold in!

NIKiTA. Say with which foot he steps? You've got to say it,--that's flat.