Petersburg that he will not wish to see me. But I'm so anxious to show every one here what acquaintances we have. I think he didn't disdain us formerly, especially sister Tanya.

_BABaYEV comes in._

SCENE V

BABaYEV and LUKeRYA

BABaYEV. Whom have I the honor of addressing?

LUKeRYA. I hardly expected, Valentin Pavlich, that you would so soon forget old acquaintances.

BABaYEV. Be seated, please. [_Both sit down_] I somehow do not recall.

LUKeRYA. Of course, nowadays feelings are not in vogue; now it's all a matter of calculation; but we provincials aren't like you in St.

Petersburg; we remember our former acquaintances, and especially our benefactors.

BABaYEV. I agree with you--benefactors should always be remembered.

LUKeRYA. We are so indebted to your mother that words fail me to express it. She did so much for the Zhmigulin family.

BABaYEV. The Zhmigulins?

LUKeRYA. Especially for sister Tanya and me.

BABaYEV. [_Rising_] Tanya--Tatyana Danilovna?

LUKeRYA. Do you remember, now?

BABaYEV. So you are her sister?

LUKeRYA. Lukerya Danilovna Zhmigulin.

BABaYEV. Pardon me, I beg of you.

LUKeRYA. I'm not in the least offended because you remember my sister more readily than you do me. She's so beautiful that it's impossible to forget her.

BABaYEV. Yes, yes, she was an exceedingly beautiful girl; we were great friends.

LUKeRYA. I'm aware of that. Who should know it if not I? Being the elder sister I had to care for the younger.

BABaYEV. Yes, yes, to be sure. Tell me, if you please, where is she now?

What is she doing?

LUKeRYA. She's here in the city, married.

BABaYEV. Married? Does she live happily?

LUKeRYA. Judge for yourself. She lives in poverty among stupid, ignorant people. It isn't as it was in your mother's house at Zavetnoye. That was an earthly paradise! Your mother was the kindest of ladies, and liked to have everybody happy at her house. There were always lots of young ladies in her house, and likewise young gentlemen, and they played games from morning till night. She made even the chambermaids play tag with us and other games, and she looked on and enjoyed it.

BABaYEV. Yes, yes, it was but a short time ago. It's no more than three years since I left for St. Petersburg.

LUKeRYA. I remember it very well. You left three years ago last carnival time. Your mother didn't like any of her guests to be moody or to read books. She would say: "Why, you're spoiling everybody's spirits." Every one was madly gay for her sake, but in the midst of all that gayety anybody who had a keen eye could see quite a little.

BABaYEV. Nothing more natural! Men, girls, and young ladies continually together--of course they couldn't help falling in love.

LUKeRYA. You were especially strong in that line. You were continually with Tanya, and you never left her, so they called you the "doves."

BABaYEV. One's heart's not a stone, Lukerya Danilovna. Even you yourself--do you remember the surveyor?

LUKeRYA. He isn't worth remembering. Later on he behaved in a very ungentlemanly way to me. But fate has punished him for his lack of courtesy towards a girl of n.o.ble birth. He's now in jail for being drunk and disorderly.

BABaYEV. Kindly tell me how it happened that your sister married?

LUKeRYA. When your mamma died last summer we had absolutely no one left to help us. Our papa in his old age was of no account in the city. He was a timid man, and so he didn't get on well. Our father was a clerk in the Chancery Office, and he received a salary of thirty rubles a year. How could we live on such a sum? And yet we saw something of society. At first we were hardly ever at home, and your mamma aided us in many ways. Suddenly all that stopped, and soon our father died. At that time Tanya received an offer from--I'm almost ashamed to tell you.

BABaYEV. Why, what are you ashamed of?

LUKeRYA. You are receiving me so graciously, and your interest in my sister makes me feel that our actions have been very uncivil.

BABaYEV. That can't be helped. Probably it was all due to circ.u.mstances.

What are you to blame for?

LUKeRYA. You can hardly imagine the degree of embarra.s.sment this relationship causes me. In a word, our circ.u.mstances were such that she was forced to marry a petty shopkeeper.

BABaYEV. A petty shopkeeper? What kind of shop has he?

LUKeRYA. A vegetable shop. You can see it from here, the sign reads, "Lev Krasnov."

BABaYEV. Yes, I noticed it. Is he a good man?

LUKeRYA. Considering the type, he's a very nice man, and he loves sister very dearly. Yet there is something so inherently bad about his calling that, judge as you will, he's still not very far removed from a peasant.

That trait of character, if you boil a man for seven years in a kettle, you cannot boil out. Yet I must give him credit for taking good care of his house. He doesn't give himself any rest day or night; he toils hard all the time. As for my sister, he's willing to give her whatever her heart desires, even his last kopek, just to please her, so that she does absolutely nothing, and lives like a lady. But his manners are boorish, and his conversation embarra.s.ses us very much. Altogether this is not the kind of happiness I wished for Tanya. Judging by her beauty and the standing of her former admirers, she should now be riding in a carriage. As it is, necessity has forced her to marry a peasant, almost for a crust of bread, and to blush for him whenever she sees anybody.

BABaYEV. So Tatyana Danilovna has married--I'm sorry.

LUKeRYA. You needn't feel sorry. She's no match for you.

BABaYEV. Of course.--Here I am in this city, and owing to circ.u.mstances I'm forced to remain at least four days, and maybe more. What am I going to do?

I'm very much pleased that you have called on me. If it hadn't been for you I don't know what I should have done with myself. Now, just imagine, if your sister weren't married, we'd spend these four days so that we shouldn't know how the time was pa.s.sing. [_Takes her by the hand_] Isn't that true?

LUKeRYA. Who's keeping you from that now?

BABaYEV. Well, you see it's awkward; being married, what will her husband think? It's really provoking.

LUKeRYA. You don't mean it! It seems to me that you used to have different opinions on such things. You weren't so anxious to know what pleased the husbands and what didn't.