Curtain.
A TRAGEDIAN IN SPITE OF HIMSELF
IVAN IVANOVITCH TOLKACHOV, the father of a family
ALEXEY ALEXEYEVITCH MURASHKIN, his friend
The scene is laid in St. Petersburg, in MURASHKIN’S flat
[MURASHKIN’S study. Comfortable furniture. MURASHKIN is seated at his desk. Enter TOLKACHOV holding in his hands a glass globe for a lamp, a toy bicycle, three hat-boxes, a large parcel containing a dress, a bin-case of beer, and several little parcels. He looks round stupidly and lets himself down on the sofa in exhaustion.]
MURASHKIN. How do you do, Ivan Ivanovitch? Delighted to see you! What brings you here?
TOLKACHOV. [Breathing heavily] My dear good fellow... I want to ask you something.... I implore you lend me a revolver till to-morrow. Be a friend!
MURASHKIN. What do you want a revolver for?
TOLKACHOV. I must have it.... Oh, little fathers!... give me some water... water quickly!... I must have it... I’ve got to go through a dark wood to-night, so in case of accidents... do, please, lend it to me.
MURASHKIN. Oh, you liar, Ivan Ivanovitch! What the devil have you got to do in a dark wood? I expect you are up to something. I can see by your face that you are up to something. What’s the matter with you? Are you ill?