SAVVA. Ask him to shed a tear for me, that I might die in Vologda. Tearful prayers are heard.

BORTSOV. I’m not praying, grandfather! These aren’t tears! Just juice! My soul is crushed; and the juice is running. [Sits by SAVVA] Juice! But you wouldn’t understand! You, with your darkened brain, wouldn’t understand. You people are all in the dark!

SAVVA. Where will you find those who live in the light?

BORTSOV. They do exist, grandfather… They would understand!

SAVVA. Yes, yes, dear friend… The saints lived in the light… They understood all our griefs… You needn’t even tell them… and they’ll understand… Just by looking at your eyes… And then you’ll have such peace, as if you were never in grief at all – it will all go!

FEDYA. And have you ever seen any saints?

SAVVA. It has happened, young man… There are many of all sorts on this earth. Sinners, and servants of God.

BORTSOV. I don’t understand all this… [Gets up quickly] What’s the use of talking when you don’t understand, and what sort of a brain have I now? I’ve only an instinct, a thirst! [Goes quickly to the counter] Tihon, take my coat! Understand? [Tries to take it off] My coat…

TIHON. And what is there under your coat? [Looks under it] Your naked body? Don’t take it off, I shan’t have it… I’m not going to burden my soul with a sin.

[Enter MERIK.]

BORTSOV. Very well, I’ll take the sin on myself! Do you agree?

MERIK. [In silence takes of his outer cloak and remains in a sleeveless jacket. He carries an axe in his belt] A vagrant may sweat where a bear will freeze. I am hot. [Puts his axe on the floor and takes off his jacket] You get rid of a pailful of sweat while you drag one leg out of the mud. And while you are dragging it out, the other one goes farther in.

EFIMOVNA. Yes, that’s true… is the rain stopping, dear?

MERIK. [Glancing at EFIMOVNA] I don’t talk to old women. [A pause.]

BORTSOV. [To TIHON] I’ll take the sin on myself. Do you hear me or don’t you?

TIHON. I don’t want to hear you, get away!

MERIK. It’s as dark as if the sky was painted with pitch. You can’t see your own nose. And the rain beats into your face like a snowstorm! [Picks up his clothes and axe.]

FEDYA. It’s a good thing for the likes of us thieves. When the cat’s away the mice will play.

MERIK. Who says that?

FEDYA. Look and see… before you forget.

MERIN. We’ll make a note of it… [Goes up to TIHON] How do you do, you with the large face! Don’t you remember me.

TIHON. If I’m to remember every one of you drunkards that walks the high road, I reckon I’d need ten holes in my forehead.

MERIK. Just look at me… [A pause.]

TIHON. Oh, yes; I remember. I knew you by your eyes! [Gives him his hand] Andrey Polikarpov?

MERIK. I used to be Andrey Polikarpov, but now I am Egor Merik.

TIHON. Why’s that?

MERIK. I call myself after whatever passport God gives me. I’ve been Merik for two months. [Thunder] Rrrr… Go on thundering, I’m not afraid! [Looks round] Any police here?

TIHON. What are you talking about, making mountains out of mole-hills?.. The people here are all right… The police are fast asleep in their feather beds now… [Loudly] Orthodox brothers, mind your pockets and your clothes, or you’ll have to regret it. The man’s a rascal! He’ll rob you!

MERIK. They can look out for their money, but as to their clothes – I shan’t touch them. I’ve nowhere to take them.

TIHON. Where’s the devil taking you to?

MERIK. To Kuban.

TIHON. My word!

FEDYA. To Kuban? Really? [Sitting up] It’s a fine place. You wouldn’t see such a country, brother, if you were to fall asleep and dream for three years. They say the birds there, and the beasts are – my God! The grass grows all the year round, the people are good, and they’ve so much land they don’t know what to do with it! The authorities, they say… a soldier was telling me the other day… give a hundred dessiatins ahead. There’s happiness, God strike me!

MERIK. Happiness… Happiness goes behind you… You don’t see it. It’s as near as your elbow is, but you can’t bite it. It’s all silly… [Looking round at the benches and the people] Like a lot of prisoners… A poor lot.

EFIMOVNA. [To MERIK] What great, angry, eyes! There’s an enemy in you, young man… Don’t you look at us!

MERIK. Yes, you’re a poor lot here.

EFIMOVNA. Turn away! [Nudges SAVVA] Savva, darling, a wicked man is looking at us. He’ll do us harm, dear. [To MERIK] Turn away, I tell you, you snake!

SAVVA. He won’t touch us, mother, he won’t touch us… God won’t let him.

MERIK. All right, Orthodox brothers! [Shrugs his shoulders] Be quiet! You aren’t asleep, you bandy-legged fools! Why don’t you say something?

EFIMOVNA. Take your great eyes away! Take away that devil’s own pride!

MERIK. Be quiet, you crooked old woman! I didn’t come with the devil’s pride, but with kind words, wishing to honour your bitter lot! You’re huddled together like flies because of the cold – I’d be sorry for you, speak kindly to you, pity your poverty, and here you go grumbling away! [Goes up to FEDYA] Where are you from?

FEDYA. I live in these parts. I work at the Khamonyevsky brickworks.

MERIK. Get up.

FEDYA. [Raising himself] Well?

MERIK. Get up, right up. I’m going to lie down here.

FEDYA. What’s that… It isn’t your place, is it?

MERIK. Yes, mine. Go and lie on the ground!

FEDYA. You get out of this, you tramp. I’m not afraid of you.

MERIK. You’re very quick with your tongue… Get up, and don’t talk about it! You’ll be sorry for it, you silly.

TIHON. [To FEDYA] Don’t contradict him, young man. Never mind.

FEDYA. What right have you? You stick out your fishy eyes and think I’m afraid! [Picks up his belongings and stretches himself out on the ground] You devil! [Lies down and covers himself all over.]

MERIK. [Stretching himself out on the bench] I don’t expect you’ve ever seen a devil or you wouldn’t call me one. Devils aren’t like that. [Lies down, putting his axe next to him.] Lie down, little brother axe… let me cover you.

TIHON. Where did you get the axe from?

MERIK. Stole it… Stole it, and now I’ve got to fuss over it like a child with a new toy; I don’t like to throw it away, and I’ve nowhere to put it. Like a beastly wife… Yes… [Covering himself over] Devils aren’t like that, brother.

FEDYA. [Uncovering his head] What are they like?

MERIK. Like steam, like air… Just blow into the air. [Blows] They’re like that, you can’t see them.

A VOICE FROM THE CORNER. You can see them if you sit under a harrow.

MERIK. I’ve tried, but I didn’t see any… Old women’s tales, and silly old men’s, too… You won’t see a devil or a ghost or a corpse… Our eyes weren’t made so that we could see everything… When I was a boy, I used to walk in the woods at night on purpose to see the demon of the woods… I’d shout and shout, and there might be some spirit, I’d call for the demon of the woods and not blink my eyes: I’d see all sorts of little things moving about, but no demon. I used to go and walk about the churchyards at night, I wanted to see the ghosts – but the women lie. I saw all sorts of animals, but anything awful – not a sign. Our eyes weren’t…

THE VOICE FROM THE CORNER. Never mind, it does happen that you do see… In our village a man was gutting a wild boar… he was separating the tripe when… something jumped out at him!

SAVVA. [Raising himself] Little children, don’t talk about these unclean things! It’s a sin, dears!

MERIK. Aaa… greybeard! You skeleton! [Laughs] You needn’t go to the churchyard to see ghosts, when they get up from under the floor to give advice to their relations… A sin!.. Don’t you teach people your silly notions! You’re an ignorant lot of people living in darkness… [Lights his pipe] My father was peasant and used to be fond of teaching people. One night he stole a sack of apples from the village priest, and he brings them along and tells us, “Look, children, mind you don’t eat any apples before Easter, it’s a sin.” You’re like that… You don’t know what a devil is, but you go calling people devils… Take this crooked old woman, for instance. [Points to EFIMOVNA] She sees an enemy in me, but is her time, for some woman’s nonsense or other, she’s given her soul to the devil five times.

EFIMOVNA. Hoo, hoo, hoo… Gracious heavens! [Covers her face] Little Savva!

TIHON. What are you frightening them for? A great pleasure! [The door slams in the wind] Lord Jesus… The wind, the wind!

MERIK. [Stretching himself] Eh, to show my strength! [The door slams again] If I could only measure myself against the wind! Shall I tear the door down, or suppose I tear up the inn by the roots! [Gets up and lies down again] How dull!

NAZAROVNA. You’d better pray, you heathen! Why are you so restless?

EFIMOVNA. Don’t speak to him, leave him alone! He’s looking at us again. [To MERIK] Don’t look at us, evil man! Your eyes are like the eyes of a devil before cockcrow!

SAVVA. Let him look, pilgrims! You pray, and his eyes won’t do you any harm.

BORTSOV. No, I can’t. It’s too much for my strength! [Goes up to the counter] Listen, Tihon, I ask you for the last time… Just half a glass!

TIHON. [Shakes his head] The money!

BORTSOV. My God, haven’t I told you! I’ve drunk it all! Where am I to get it? And you won’t go broke even if you do let me have a drop of vodka on tick. A glass of it only costs you two copecks, and it will save me from suffering! I am suffering! Understand! I’m in misery, I’m suffering!

TIHON. Go and tell that to someone else, not to me… Go and ask the Orthodox, perhaps they’ll give you some for Christ’s sake, if they feel like it, but I’ll only give bread for Christ’s sake.

BORTSOV. You can rob those wretches yourself, I shan’t… I won’t do it! I won’t! Understand? [Hits the bar-counter with his fist] I won’t. [A pause.] Hm… just wait… [Turns to the pilgrim women] It’s an idea, all the same, Orthodox ones! Spare five copecks! My inside asks for it. I’m ill!

FEDYA. Oh, you swindler, with your “spare five copecks.” Won’t you have some water?

BORTSOV. How I am degrading myself! I don’t want it! I don’t want anything! I was joking!

MERIK. You won’t get it out of him, sir… He’s a famous skinflint… Wait, I’ve got a five-copeck piece somewhere… We’ll have a glass between us – half each [Searches in his pockets] The devil… it’s lost somewhere… Thought I heard it tinkling just now in my pocket… No; no, it isn’t there, brother, it’s your luck! [A pause.]

BORTSOV. But if I can’t drink, I’ll commit a crime or I’ll kill myself… What shall I do, my God! [Looks through the door] Shall I go out, then? Out into this darkness, wherever my feet take me…

MERIK. Why don’t you give him a sermon, you pilgrims? And you, Tihon, why don’t you drive him out? He hasn’t paid you for his night’s accommodation. Chuck him out! Eh, the people are cruel nowadays. There’s no gentleness or kindness in them… A savage people! A man is drowning and they shout to him: “Hurry up and drown, we’ve got no time to look at you; we’ve got to go to work.” As to throwing him a rope – there’s no worry about that… A rope would cost money.

SAVVA. Don’t talk, kind man!

MERIK. Quiet, old wolf! You’re a savage race! Herods! Sellers of your souls! [To TIHON] Come here, take off my boots! Look sharp now!

TIHON. Eh, he’s let himself go I [Laughs] Awful, isn’t it.

MERIK. Go on, do as you’re told! Quick now! [Pause] Do you hear me, or don’t you? Am I talking to you or the wall? [Stands up]

TIHON. Well… give over.

MERIK. I want you, you fleecer, to take the boots off me, a poor tramp.

TIHON. Well, well… don’t get excited. Here have a glass… Have a drink, now!

MERIK. People, what do I want? Do I want him to stand me vodka, or to take off my boots? Didn’t I say it properly? [To TIHON] Didn’t you hear me rightly? I’ll wait a moment, perhaps you’ll hear me then.

[There is excitement among the pilgrims and tramps, who half-raise themselves in order to look at TIHON and MERIK. They wait in silence.]

TIHON. The devil brought you here! [Comes out from behind the bar] What a gentleman! Come on now. [Takes off MERIK’S boots] You child of Cain…

MERIK. That’s right. Put them side by side… Like that… you can go now!

TIHON. [Returns to the bar-counter] You’re too fond of being clever. You do it again and I’ll turn you out of the inn! Yes! [To BORTSOV, who is approaching] You, again?

BORTSOV. Look here, suppose I give you something made of gold… I will give it to you.

TIHON. What are you shaking for? Talk sense!

BORTSOV. It may be mean and wicked on my part, but what am I to do? I’m doing this wicked thing, not reckoning on what’s to come… If I was tried for it, they’d let me off. Take it, only on condition that you return it later, when I come back from town. I give it to you in front of these witnesses. You will be my witnesses! [Takes a gold medallion out from the breast of his coat] Here it is… I ought to take the portrait out, but I’ve nowhere to put it; I’m wet all over… Well, take the portrait, too! Only mind this… don’t let your fingers touch that face… Please… I was rude to you, my dear fellow, I was a fool, but forgive me and… don’t touch it with your fingers… Don’t look at that face with your eyes. [Gives TIHON the medallion.]

TIHON. [Examining it] Stolen property… All right, then, drink… [Pours out vodka] Confound you.

BORTSOV. Only don’t you touch it… with your fingers. [Drinks slowly, with feverish pauses.]

TIHON. [Opens the medallion] Hm… a lady!.. Where did you get hold of this?

MERIK. Let’s have a look. [Goes to the bar] Let’s see.

TIHON. [Pushes his hand away] Where are you going to? You look somewhere else!

FEDYA. [Gets up and comes to TIHON] I want to look too!

[Several of the tramps, etc., approach the bar and form a group. MERIK grips TIHON’s hand firmly with both his, looks at the portrait, in the medallion in silence. A pause.]

MERIK. A pretty she-devil. A real lady…

FEDYA. A real lady… Look at her cheeks, her eyes… Open your hand, I can’t see. Hair coming down to her waist… It is lifelike! She might be going to say something… [Pause.]

MERIK. It’s destruction for a weak man. A woman like that gets a hold on one and… [Waves his hand] you’re done for!

[KUSMA’S voice is heard. “Trrr… Stop, you brutes!” Enter KUSMA.]

KUSMA. There stands an inn upon my way. Shall I drive or walk past it, say? You can pass your own father and not notice him, but you can see an inn in the dark a hundred versts away. Make way, if you believe in God! Hullo, there! [Planks a five-copeck piece down on the counter] A glass of real Madeira! Quick!

FEDYA. Oh, you devil!

TIHON. Don’t wave your arms about, or you’ll hit somebody.

KUSMA. God gave us arms to wave about. Poor sugary things, you’re half-melted. You’re frightened of the rain, poor delicate things. [Drinks.]

EFIMOVNA. You may well get frightened, good man, if you’re caught on your way in a night like this. Now, thank God, it’s all right, there are many villages and houses where you can shelter from the weather, but before that there weren’t any. Oh, Lord, it was bad! You walk a hundred versts, and not only isn’t there a village; or a house, but you don’t even see a dry stick. So you sleep on the ground…

KUSMA. Have you been long on this earth, old woman?

EFIMOVNA. Over seventy years, little father.

KUSMA. Over seventy years! You’ll soon come to crow’s years. [Looks at BORTSOV] And what sort of a raisin is this? [Staring at BORTSOV] Sir! [BORTSOV recognizes KUSMA and retires in confusion to a corner of the room, where he sits on a bench] Semyon Sergeyevitch! Is that you, or isn’t it? Eh? What are you doing in this place? It’s not the sort of place for you, is it?

BORTSOV. Be quiet!

MERIK. [To KUSMA] Who is it?

KUSMA. A miserable sufferer. [Paces irritably by the counter] Eh? In an inn, my goodness! Tattered! Drunk! I’m upset, brothers… upset… [To MERIK, in an undertone] It’s my master… our landlord. Semyon Sergeyevitch and Mr. Bortsov… Have you ever seen such a state? What does he look like? Just… it’s the drink that brought him to this… Give me some more! [Drinks] I come from his village, Bortsovka; you may have heard of it, it’s 200 versts from here, in the Ergovsky district. We used to be his father’s serfs… What a shame!

MERIK. Was he rich?

KUSMA. Very.

MERIK. Did he drink it all?

KUSMA. No, my friend, it was something else… He used to be great and rich and sober… [To TIHON] Why you yourself used to see him riding, as he used to, past this inn, on his way to the town. Such bold and noble horses! A carriage on springs, of the best quality! He used to own five troikas, brother… Five years ago, I remember, he cam here driving two horses from Mikishinsky, and he paid with a five-rouble piece… I haven’t the time, he says, to wait for the change… There!