Ivanov

BabakinaI’ll tell you what, Count. Come and stay in a day or two . . . It’s fun at my house, not like here . . . Come tomorrow . . . (To Borkin.) Is this a joke?

Borkin(angrily) Would I joke about anything as serious as this?

BabakinaOh, stop, stop – oh, I’m feeling awful . . . A Countess . . . I don’t feel well . . . I’m going to faint . . .

With a laugh, Borkin and the Count take her under the arms and, kissing her on the cheeks, lead her out.

    Ivanov and Sasha run in from the garden.

Ivanov(clutching at his head in despair) No, it’s impossible! Don’t, Sasha, don’t – you must stop this!

Sasha(letting it all pour out) I’m madly in love with you. Without you my life has no meaning – no joy or happiness! You’re everything to me . . .

IvanovBut what’s the use? Why are you telling me? Oh God, I don’t understand what’s going on. Sasha, you mustn’t . . .

SashaFrom when I was just a little girl, you were the light of my life. I loved you body and soul, more than my life. But now . . . I love you, Nikolay Alekseevich. I’d go with you anywhere you like – the other side of the world – or to the grave. Only, for God’s sake, quick or I’ll stop breathing . . .!

Ivanov(bursts into happy laughter) What’s happening? Can it mean I can start again? A new life? Is that it, Shurochka? . . . Oh, my blessed one! (Pulls her towards him.) Your’re my lost youth, my innocence . . .

Anna enters from the garden and, catching sight of her husband and Sasha, stops as though rooted to the spot.

IvanovDoes it really mean I can start to live again? – does it? To live and work as I used to?

They kiss. Then Ivanov and Sasha see Anna.

(Horrified.) Anna!

Anna faints

End of Act Two.

Act Three

Ivanov’s study. A desk on which papers, books, official packages and knick-knacks and revolvers lie in disorder; among the papers is a lamp, a carafe of vodka, a plate with salted herrings, pieces of bread and pickled cucumbers. On the walls, maps, pictures, guns, pistols, sickles, whips and so on. Midday.

Shabelsky and Lebedev sit on either side of the desk. Borkin is in the middle of the stage, astride a chair. They sprawl, somewhat in their cups, like lords of the earth, ruling on the great issues of the world. Pyotr stands by the door.

LebedevNow France . . . France has a clear-cut and definite policy . . . Your Frenchy knows what he wants. He wants to kick the tripes out of your German sausage-maker, simple as that. But Germany’s whistling a different tune, my friend. Germany has plenty of other geese to cook besides France.

ShabelskyYou’re talking rubbish. If you ask me, the Germans are cowards, and so are the French. They’re pulling faces behind each other’s backs, but take my word for it, that’s as far as it will go. They won’t fight.

BorkinBut what I’m saying is, there’s no need to fight. All these rearmament congresses and vast expenditure . . . it’s completely unnecessary. You know what I’d do? Round up every dog in the country, give ‘em a good dose of rabies and let them loose across the border. The enemy will be frothing at the mouth in a month.

Lebedev(laughs) There’s a billion brilliant ideas swimming about in that little head, one for every fish in the ocean.

ShabelskyHe’s a genius.

LebedevGod bless you, Michel Michelich! You’re a hoot. (Soberly.) However, gentlemen, here we are jawing away and hardly a mention of vodka. Repetatur!

He fills three glasses.

Here’s to us.

They drink and eat.

Salted herring, Lord love it – greatest snack there is.

ShabelskyNo – cucumber. The best minds have been thinking about this since the world began and they haven’t come up with anything to beat a pickled cucumber. (To Pyotr.) We need more cucumbers, Pyotr, and tell the kitchen to do four onion pasties. Make sure they’re hot.

Pyotr goes out.