SCENE VI
The same and RAZLYULYÁYEV
RAZLYULYÁYEV. Hello, boys! [Plays on the accordion and begins to dance.
GÚSLIN. What a fool! What did you buy that accordion for?
RAZLYULYÁYEV. Why, I bought it to play on, of course—this way. [Plays.
GÚSLIN. Well, that's fine music, I must say! Stop, I tell you!
RAZLYULYÁYEV. What! Do you think I'll stop? I'll stop when I want to.—What airs! Haven't I got any money? [Slapping his pocket] It chinks! If we go on a spree—then it's some spree!
"One mountain is high,
And another is low;
One darling is far,
And another is near."
Mítya! [Strikes MÍTYA on the shoulder] Mítya, why are you sitting still?
MÍTYA. I have some work to do. [Continues to work.
RAZLYULYÁYEV. Mítya! Say, Mítya, I'm on a spree, my boy! Really, I am. Oh, come on! [Sings, "One mountain is high," etc.] Mítya! Say, Mítya, I'm going on a spree for the whole holiday season—then I'll set to work, upon my word I will! Haven't I got any money? There it is! And I'm not drunk.—Oh, no, such a spree!—so jolly!
MÍTYA. Well, go on a spree as much as you like.
RAZLYULYÁYEV. And after the holidays I shall marry!—Upon my word I shall marry! I'll get a rich girl.
GÚSLIN. Now, then, listen; how does this sound?
RAZLYULYÁYEV. Sing it, sing it! I'll listen.
GÚSLIN. [Sings]
"Is naught so hard and evil
As to be fatherless;
Than slavery more grievous
And sharper than distress.
All in the world make holiday,
But lonely you must pine.
Your mind is wild and drunken,
But it came not from the wine.
Youth shall not do your pleasure,
Beauty no healing bear.
Your sweetheart does not comb your locks,
But your harsh stepdame, Care."
During all this time RAZLYULYÁYEV stands as if rooted to the ground, and listens with emotion; when the song is finished all are silent.
RAZLYULYÁYEV. Good! Very good! It's awfully sad; it takes hold of one's heart. [Sighs] Ah, Yasha! play something cheerful; that's enough of this stuff—to-day's a holiday. [Sings.
"Who does not love a hussar!
Life without love would be sad!"
Play the tune, Yasha.
GÚSLIN plays the tune.
MÍTYA. That's enough of your fooling. Come, now, let's sit down in a circle and sing in a low tone.
RAZLYULYÁYEV. All right. [They sit down.
GÚSLIN. [Begins to sing; MÍTYA and RAZLYULYÁYEV join in]
"Now my young, my young lads,
You my friends…."
Enter GORDÉY KÁRPYCH; all stand up and stop singing.