SCENE I
TATYÁNA is lying on the bed; LUKÉRYA comes in
LUKÉRYA. Tánya, are you asleep?
TATYÁNA. No.
LUKÉRYA. Then you'd better get up! What are you lying around for all day?
You've been in bed all the morning, and still not up.
TATYÁNA. What's the use of getting up? What's there to do?
LUKÉRYA. If you were only asleep—but to lie in bed and cry just rends your heart. Better get up and let's talk it over!
TATYÁNA. [Getting up] Oh, what an unhappy, gloomy day this is! [Sits down] How unfortunate I am! What have I done to myself? Why did I marry? I've drowned my happiness, simply drowned it!
LUKÉRYA. Who could have told? As a suitor he was as quiet as water and as meek as the grass; now I don't know what has happened to him. Why, yesterday I thought he was joking when he told us to be back in a half-hour.
TATYÁNA. I did, too. If you only had seen how he pounced on me, and how terrible he's become. He looked daggers all the morning, left without saying good-by, and now he hasn't even come back for dinner.
LUKÉRYA. What did he say to you when you were left alone yesterday?
TATYÁNA. He scolded and abused, got all wrought up, and wept himself; what didn't he do! "For all my love for you," he said, "I ask you only one thing in return: soothe me, give me back my peace of mind, because I am jealous."
LUKÉRYA. What an affliction!
TATYÁNA. He said he wasn't jealous of any one but this gentleman.
LUKÉRYA. The idea of his being jealous of every one! That would be a great idea!
TATYÁNA. "When that man leaves," he said, "then you may do anything you like, and go anywhere, but because you didn't heed my command, don't dare cross the threshold until he has left the city for good."
LUKÉRYA. What did you say to that?
TATYÁNA. He kept shouting but I kept still through it all; but it hurts me because he lords it over me so. At first he was sly as a fox, but now he has started to order me about, and talk to me in his vulgar, peasant's way. He doesn't care that he has insulted me, but I've been crying all day. I couldn't love him if he killed me. If he gave me freedom, then I might have some affection for him; but now I'll do everything he doesn't want me to, just for meanness; even if I had wronged him, I wouldn't regret it. I must get even with him some way. I can't fight with him; I haven't the strength for that.
LUKÉRYA. Certainly. He ought to be satisfied that you married him; and now he's got the notion of watching your deportment.
TATYÁNA. Since yesterday I've begun to fear him so. You won't believe me; why, I shudder when he looks at me.
LUKÉRYA. What do you think you'll do now?
TATYÁNA. What's the use of thinking? My head's all in a muddle. It's bad, no matter how you look at it. I sold my very youth to one I cannot love, just for a piece of bread, and from one day to another he becomes more repulsive to me.
LUKÉRYA. After such actions on his part, it's no wonder he's repulsive. Especially when you compare him with others. The other man is a born gentleman in every sense of the word.
TATYÁNA. Now what shall I do? If I could break off all connection with
Valentin Pávlich, I should be very glad. But I see I should have thought
of that before, and attended to the matter earlier; but now it's too late.
It's beyond my strength.
LUKÉRYA. But he loves you very much, Tánya.
TATYÁNA. Is that so? Oh, bother him. That's just it; at first I haven't enough sense, then I have to cry over it. My mother used to say to me: "Be careful, daughter, your lack of common sense will be your ruin."
LUKÉRYA. You want to see him, I suppose? I think he's waiting.
TATYÁNA. Well, of course. If it depended on me, I'd fly to him.
LUKÉRYA. We'll have to rack our brains how we may work that.
TATYÁNA. No matter how I rack my brain, I can't think of anything.
LUKÉRYA. I know what, Tánya! You'll have to fool your husband.
TATYÁNA. How?
LUKÉRYA. We women couldn't live without cunning, because we're the weaker sex, and abused on all sides.
TATYÁNA. But what cunning? Tell me!
LUKÉRYA. Now that you and your husband live like cats and dogs, he can't help getting the notion into his noddle that you don't love him, but do love another.
TATYÁNA. How shall I manage?
LUKÉRYA. You'll have to change your tactics. Be very submissive; peasants like that. Make believe that you're in love with him; give him all sorts of humbug and he'll prick up his ears at it. Flatter him with all sorts of flatteries—that'll be a new thing for him.
TATYÁNA. I'll have to say what I don't feel.
LUKÉRYA. Where's the harm in that? How does he know what's in your heart? He doesn't need to understand that your action is make-believe, and not sincere. You'll see, after such actions, he'll believe in you so much that even though you made love before his very eyes, he wouldn't notice it.
TATYÁNA. One can't make such a sudden change in oneself.
LUKÉRYA. It certainly must be sudden. What's there to wait for?
TATYÁNA. He's angry with me now; how can I approach him? I can't beg his pardon!
LUKÉRYA. Why pardon? [She thinks] Do it this way: you tell grandfather Arkhíp that you'd like to make up with your husband, so that you'd have no misunderstandings, that you love your husband, and that you feel his displeasure very much.
TATYÁNA. Well, I'll try.
LUKÉRYA. It's all the same to me! I'm talking for your own good.
TATYÁNA. Go and bring grandfather; he's sitting in the garden. [LUKÉRYA goes out] That's what it is for a woman to have wits! Even if she takes a fancy to a man she won't let anybody guess it. She'll so fool her husband that he'll just dote on her. But without wit one is lost.
LUKÉRYA comes in leading ARKHÍP.