The Storm

VARVARA (putting a kerchief on her head before the looking-glass). I am just going out for a walk now; Glasha's putting our beds in the summer house now, mamma's consented to let us sleep there. Mamma always keeps the little gate in the garden behind the raspberries locked up and hides the key. I've taken it and put another one in its place for her, so she won't notice it. Here, see, maybe, it will be wanted (gives the key). If I see him, I shall tell him to come to the little gate.

KATERINA (with horror, pushing away the key).

What for! what for! No! no!

VARVARA.

If you don't want it, I do; take it, it won't bite you!

KATERINA. But what are you plotting, wicked girl? It's impossible! Do you know what you're doing? It's dreadful, dreadful!

VARVARA.

Well, well—Least said is soonest mended; and I've no time to stay either.

It's time for my walk.

[Goes.

SCENE X

KATERINA (alone, holding the key in her hand). The things she thinks of doing! Ah, she's a mad girl, really mad! Here is ruin! Here it is! Fling it away, fling it far away, drop it into the river, that it may never be found. It burns the hand like fire. (Musing) This is how we women come to ruin. How can anyone be happy in bondage? One may be driven to anything. Many a one is glad if she gets the chance; she flings herself headlong. But how can they, without thinking, without reflecting! Easy is the path that leads to misfortune! And then tears and anguish all your life: your bondage is bitterer than ever. (Silence) But bitter is a life of bondage, ah, how bitter! Who does not weep in it! Most of all, we women. Here am I now! I am fretting away my life, and I see no loophole of light and hope before me! And I never shall see it, that's certain! It'll be worse as it goes on. And now this wickedness too has come upon me. (Muses) If it were not for my mother-in-law! … She is crushing me…. She has made the house hateful to me…. I loathe the very walls because of her. (Looks dreamily at the key) Throw it away? Of course, I must throw it away. And how came it into my hands? For my temptation, for my undoing. (Listens) Ah, someone is coming. How my heart is beating! (hides the key in her pocket) No! … No one! … Why was I so frightened? And I have put away the key…. Well, that's a sign it is to be! Fate itself, it seems, wills it! And where is the sin if I do look at him just once, from a distance. Even if I speak to him, still there's no harm in that! But what I said to Tihon … why, he would not have it himself. And maybe, such a chance will not come again all my life long. Then I may well weep to myself—that there was a chance and I had not sense to seize it. But why talk, why cheat myself? If I die for it, I must see him. Whom am I trying to deceive…. Throw away the key! No, for nothing in the whole world! It is mine now…. Come what may, I will see Boris! Ah, night! come quickly!

ACT III

SCENE I

The Street. The gates of the Kabanovs' house, a garden seat before the gates.

MME. KABANOVA and FEKLUSHA (sitting on the bench).

FEKLUSHA. The end of the world is at hand, ma'am, by every sign and token, Marfa Ignatievna, the end of the world is at hand. It's peace and paradise still here in your town, but in other towns it's simply Sodom, ma'am: the noise, the bustle, the incessant traffic! The people keep running, one one way, and one another.

MME. KABANOVA.

We've no need to hurry, my dear, we live without haste.

FEKLUSHA. No, ma'am; there is peace and quietness in this town, because there are many people, you for instance, adorned with virtues, as with flowers; that's why everything is done decorously and tranquilly. Why, what is the meaning of all that haste and bustle, ma'am? It is vanity, to be sure! In Moscow now: the folk run to and fro; there's no knowing for why. It is all vanity. It is a people, full of vanity, ma'am, and so it runs to and fro. Each one fancies he's hurrying on business; he hastens, poor fellow, doesn't recognise people; it seems to him that someone is beckoning him; but when he gets to the place, sure enough it's empty, there's nothing there, it's only a dream. And he is downcast and disappointed. And another one fancies that he's overtaking someone he knows. Anyone looking on can see in a trice that there's no one; but it seems to him in his vanity and delusion that he's overtaking someone. Vanity, to be sure, is like a fog about them. Here among you on a fine evening like this, it's not often anyone even comes out to sit at his gate; but in Moscow now there's walking and playing, and a fearful racket going on in the street; a continual roar. And what's more, Marfa Ignatievna, ma'am, they've harnessed a fiery serpent to drive: all, look you, for the sake of more speed.

MME. KABANOVA.