Fruits of Culture Part 13

SECOND PEASANT. It seems he's afraid of his wife.

THEODORE IVaNITCH. It's not that he's afraid, but they don't hit things off together.

THIRD PEASANT. But you should try, father! How are we to live else?

We've so little land ...

THEODORE IVaNITCH. We'll see what comes of Tanya's attempt. She's taken the business into her hands now!

THIRD PEASANT [takes a sip of tea] Father, be merciful. We've so little land. A hen, let's say, we've no room for a hen, let alone the cattle.

THEODORE IVaNITCH. If the business depended on me.... [To Second Peasant] Well, friend, so we've done our bit of match-making! It's agreed then about Tanya?

SECOND PEASANT. I've given my word, and I'll not go back on it without a good reason. If only our business succeeds!

Enter Servants' Cook who looks up at the oven, makes a sign, and then begins to speak animatedly to Theodore Ivanitch.

SERVANTS' COOK. Just now Simon was called upstairs from the front kitchen! The master and that other bald-headed one who calls up spirits with him, ordered him to sit down and take the place of Kaptchitch!

THEODORE IVaNITCH. You don't say so!

SERVANTS' COOK. Yes, Jacob told Tanya.

THEODORE IVaNITCH. Extraordinary!

Enter Coachman.

THEODORE IVaNITCH. What do you want?

COACHMAN [to Theodore Ivanitch] You may just tell them I never agreed to live with a lot of dogs! Let any one who likes do it, but I will never agree to live among dogs!

THEODORE IVaNITCH. What dogs?

COACHMAN. Three dogs have been sent into our room by Vasily Leoniditch!

They've messed it all over. They're whining, and if one comes near them they bite--the devils! They'd tear you to pieces if you didn't mind.

I've a good mind to take a club and smash their legs for them!

THEODORE IVaNITCH. But when did they come?

COACHMAN. Why, to-day, from the Dog Show; the devil knows what kind they are, but they're an expensive sort. Are we or the dogs to live in the coachmen's quarters? You just go and ask!

THEODORE IVaNITCH. Yes, that will never do. I'll go and ask about it.

COACHMAN. They'd better be brought here to Loukerya.

SERVANTS' COOK [angrily] People have to eat here, and you'd like to lock dogs in here! As it is ...

COACHMAN. And I've got the liveries, and the sledge-covers and the harness there, and they expect things kept clean! Perhaps the porter's lodge might do.

THEODORE IVaNITCH. I must ask Vasily Leoniditch.

COACHMAN [angrily] He'd better hang the brutes round his neck and lug them about with him! But no fear: he'd rather ride on horseback himself.

It's he as spoilt Beauty without rhyme or reason. That was a horse!...

Oh dear! what a life! [Exit, slamming door].

THEODORE IVaNITCH. That's not right! Certainly not right! [To Peasants]

Well then, it's time we were saying good-bye, friends.

PEASANTS. Good-bye!

Exit Theodore Ivanitch.

As soon as he is gone a sound of groaning is heard from the top of the oven.

SECOND PEASANT. He's sleek, that one; looks like a general.

SERVANTS' COOK. Rather! Why, he has a room all to himself; he gets his was.h.i.+ng, his tea and sugar, and food from the master's table.

DISCHARGED COOK [on the oven]. Why shouldn't the old beggar live well?

He's lined his pockets all right!

SECOND PEASANT. Who's that up there, on the oven?

SERVANTS' COOK. Oh, it's only a man.

Silence.

FIRST PEASANT. Well, and you too, as I noticed a while since when you were supping, have capital food to eat.

SERVANTS' COOK. We can't complain. She's not mean about the food. We have wheat bread every Sunday, and fish when a holiday happens to be a fast-day too, and those who like may eat meat.

SECOND PEASANT. And does any one tuck into flesh on fast-days?

SERVANTS' COOK. Oh, they nearly all do! Only the old coachman--not the one who was here just now but the old one--and Simon, and I and the housekeeper, fast--all the others eat meat.

SECOND PEASANT. And the master himself?

SERVANTS' COOK. Catch him! Why, I bet he's forgotten there is such a thing as fasting!

THIRD PEASANT. Oh Lord!

FIRST PEASANT. That's the gentlefolks' way: they have got it all out of their books. 'Cos of their intelex!

THIRD PEASANT. Shouldn't wonder if they feed on wheat bread every day!

SERVANTS' COOK. Wheat bread indeed! Much they think of wheat bread! You should see what food they eat. No end of different things!

FIRST PEASANT. In course gentlefolks' food is of an airial kind.

SERVANTS' COOK. Airial, of course, but all the same they're good at stuffing themselves, they are!