ACT V
Scene 1
A dirty room in a low-class restaurant. A table, at which people sit drinking tea and vódka. In the foreground a small table, at which sits Fédya, tattered, and much come down in the world. With him is Petushkóv, a gentle, mild man with long hair, of clerical appearance. Both are slightly drunk.
PETUSHKÓV. I understand, I understand. That is true love! Yes? Go on.
FÉDYA. Well, you know, if a woman of our class showed such feeling and sacrificed everything for the man she loved.… But she was a gipsy, brought up to money-hunting, and yet she had this self-sacrificing love! Gave everything, and wanted nothing herself! The contrast was so wonderful!
PETUSHKÓV. Yes, in art we call it “value.” You can only get quite bright red by putting green round it. But that's not to the point. I understand, quite understand.
FÉDYA. Yes, and I believe the one good action of my life is that I never took advantage of her love. And do you know why?
PETUSHKÓV. Pity.
FÉDYA. Oh no! I never felt pity for her. What I felt for her was always rapturous admiration—and when she sang! Ah, how she sang—and perhaps still sings! I always regarded her as far above me. I did not ruin her, simply because I loved her; loved her truly. And now she's a good, happy memory! [Drinks].