Alas! Bald as a billiard ball, as they say.
TROSHCHEYKIN
Excuse me for yawning. It’s a purely nervous phenomenon.
MESHAEV TWO
City life—there’s nothing you can do. As for me, I haven’t budged from my blessed wilderness for close on to ten years now. Don’t read the papers, raise shaggy-legged chickens, have oodles of kiddies, an orchard, a wife that big. Came to town to shop for a tractor. Are you and my brother close friends? Or did you only meet him at your mother-in-law’s?
TROSHCHEYKIN
Yes, at my mother—ex-ca-a-use me, pa-pa-please.... (yawns)
MESHAEV TWO
Don’t mention it. Yes.... He and I don’t hit it off too well together. Haven’t seen him in a good long while—several years—and, to be frank, the separation has never been much of a burden to either of us. But since I was coming, it would have been awkward not to let him know. I’m beginning to think he deliberately behaved like a pig toward me: and that’s as far as his knowledge of pig-raising goes.
TROSHCHEYKIN
Yes, that’s not unusual.... I don’t know much about it either....
MESHAEV TWO
I gather from his letter that Mrs. Opayashin is a literary figure? Alas, I don’t keep up much with literature.
TROSHCHEYKIN
Oh, well, you know, her kind of literature is unremarkable. Oh-ha-a-a. (yawns)
MESHAEV TWO
And apparently does some drawing, too.
TROSHCHEYKIN
No, no—this is my studio.
MESHAEV TWO
Oh, so you’re a picture-painter! That’s interesting. I’ve done a bit of that myself in the winter, to pass the time. Also used to fool around with the occult sciences at one time. So these are your paintings.... May I have a look? (puts on a pince-nez)
TROSHCHEYKIN
Go ahead, (pause) This one isn’t finished.
MESHAEV TWO
Very good! A daring brush.
TROSHCHEYKIN
Excuse me, I’d like to take a look out the window.
MESHAEV TWO
(returning the pince-nez to its case)
It’s such a shame. How embarrassing—to have your mother-in-law dragged out of bed because of me. After all, she doesn’t even know me. I sailed in under my brother’s flag.
TROSHCHEYKIN
Look, how amusing.
MESHAEV TWO
I don’t understand. The moon, the street. I’d sooner say it was melancholy.
TROSHCHEYKIN
Look—he’s walking. There! He’s crossed. And again. Most comforting sight.
MESHAEV TWO
A belated reveler. I hear they do a lot of drinking in this town.
(Enter Antonina Pavlovna and Lyubov ’ carrying a tray.)
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
Goodness, what a likeness!
MESHAEV TWO
Honored.... Happy birthday....I took the liberty.... They’re from my farm.
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
Shame on you for spoiling me like this. Sit down, please. My daughter has explained everything.
MESHAEV TWO
I’m very embarrassed. Surely you were resting?
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
Oh, I’m a night owl. Come, tell me about yourself. So you spend all your time in the country?
TROSHCHEYKIN
Lyuba, isn’t that the phone?
LYUBOV’
Yes, I think so. I’ll go....
TROSHCHEYKIN
No, I’ll go.
(Troshcheykin goes out.)
MESHAEV TWO
Never budge. Raise chickens, produce children, don’t read the papers.
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
Cup of tea? Or would you rather have a snack?
MESHAEV TWO
Well, actually...
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
Lyuba, there’s some ham left. Oh, you brought it already. Fine. Help yourself. It’s Mikhey Mikheyevich, right?
MESHAEV TWO
Much obliged. Yes, Mikhey’s the name.
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
Please help yourself. We had cake but the guests ate it all. We were looking forward so much to your coming! Your brother thought you had missed your train. Lyuba, there isn’t enough sugar here, (to Mikhey Mikheyevich) Today, due to the event, our household is a little out of kilter.
MESHAEV TWO
The event?
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
Oh, you know—today’s sensation. We’re so worried....
LYUBOV’
Mummy, dear, Mr. Meshaev couldn’t care less about our private business.
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
I thought he knew. In any case, I’m delighted that you arrived. On a nervous night like this it’s good to have some one calm around.
MESHAEV TWO
Yup. You might say I’ve grown unaccustomed to your city alarms.
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
Where are you staying?
MESHAEV TWO
Well ... nowhere, for the time being. I guess I’ll go to a hotel.
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
Why don’t you spend the night with us? We have a spare room—this one.
MESHAEV TWO
I really don’t know.... I wouldn’t want to impose....
(Troshcheykin returns.)
TROSHCHEYKIN
Ryovshin called. It seems he and Kuprikov have posted themselves at a little bar nearby, and wanted to know if all was well. I think they’re loaded. I told them they could go to bed, since we have this simpatico fellow marching up and down in front of our house, (to Meshaev Two) See what things have come to? We had to hire a guardian angel.
MESHAEV TWO
That so?
LYUBOV’
Alyosha, find some other subject, will you?
TROSHCHEYKIN
What are you angry about? I think it was very nice of them to call. Unlike your dear sister, who didn’t even bother to find out if we were alive.
MESHAEV TWO
I’m afraid you must have family troubles of some kind.... Someone must be ill.... I’m doubly distressed.
TROSHCHEYKIN
No, no—please stay. On the contrary, it’s better to have a crowd hanging around. Anyway, sleep is out of the question.
MESHAEV TWO
That so?
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
The fact of the matter is that—rightly or not—Alexey Maximovich fears an attempt on his life. He has enemies.... After all, Lyubochka, you have to give a person some explanation ... or else, seeing you rush around like two lunatics ... God knows what he’ll think.
MESHAEV TWO
Oh, don’t you worry about it. I understand. I was just being tactful. They say that in Paris, France, they also have this Bohemian life, fights in restaurants, and so forth....
(Barboshin has entered noiselessly and unnoticed. They all give a start.)
TROSHCHEYKIN
Why do you scare the wits out of us like that? What happened?
BARBOSHIN
I came in to take a breather.
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
(to Meshaev Two)
Please don’t get up. It’s nothing. A secret agent.
TROSHCHEYKIN
Did you notice anything? Maybe you’d like to talk to me privately?
BARBOSHIN
No, Mister. I crave a little light, a little warmth....I was beginning to get the willies. It’s lonely and scary out there. Nerves are starting to give.... Torments of the imagination, an uneasy conscience, images from the past....
LYUBOV’
Alyosha, it’s either him or me. You give him a glass of tea—I’m going to bed.
BARBOSHIN
(to Meshaev Two)
Aha! And who is this? How did you get in here?
MESHAEV TWO
Me? Why, I came in the usual way—through the door.
BARBOSHIN
(to Troshcheykin)
Mister, I consider this a personal
insult. Either I guard you and screen all visitors, or I go home and you receive your guests.... Or maybe he is from a rival organization?
TROSHCHEYKIN
Take it easy. It’s just somebody from out of town. He didn’t know. Here, take an apple and go, please. One doesn’t abandon one’s post. You were doing so beautifully until now!...
BARBOSHIN
I was promised a glass of tea. I’m tired. I’m chilled. There’s a nail in my shoe, (narrating) I was born into a poor family, and my first conscious recollection is—
LYUBOV’
You’ll get your tea, but under one condition—that you shut up, shut up completely!
BARBOSHIN
Since you ask me ... what can I do but comply? I only wanted to give you a capsule history of my life. As an illustration. No?
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
Lyuba, how can you cut off a person like that?
LYUBOV’
No life histories, or I’m leaving.
BARBOSHIN
May I at least deliver a telegram?
TROSHCHEYKIN
A telegram? Where from? Quick, let’s have it!
BARBOSHIN
I just intercepted its bearer right near the downstairs entrance. Lordy, Lordy—what did I do with it? Ah! Here it is.
TROSHCHEYKIN
(grabs the telegram, and opens it)
“My thoughts are with you birthday gree—” What rubbish! You could have spared yourself the trouble, (to Antonina Pavlovna) It’s for you.
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
You see, Lyubochka—you were right. Misha did remember!
MESHAEV TWO
It’s getting late! Time to hit the sack. I apologize once again.
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
Won’t you spend the night with us after all?
TROSHCHEYKIN
Hear, hear! You can sleep right there on the couch.
MESHAEV TWO
Actually, I...
BARBOSHIN
(to Meshaev Two)
Judging by certain outward signs intelligible only to an experienced eye, I can tell you that you have served in the navy, are childless, have recently been to the doctor, and are fond of music.
MESHAEV TWO
Wrong on all counts.
BARBOSHIN
Moreover, you are left-handed.
MESHAEV TWO
Wrong again.
BARBOSHIN
Tell it to the judge. He’ll know right away.
LYUBOV’
(to Meshaev Two)
Please don’t think this is a loony bin we have here. It’s just been that kind of day and now it’s that kind of night.
MESHAEV TWO
Oh, I don’t mind.
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
(to Barboshin)
There are many things about your profession that appeal to a writer of fiction. I’d be very curious to know your attitude toward the detective novel as such.
BARBOSHIN
There are questions I am under no obligation to answer.
MESHAEV TWO
You know, it’s odd: this gentleman’s attempt at divination together with a remarkable encounter I just had brings to mind how once, for lack of anything better to do, I took up fortune-telling—on an amateur level, of course, but sometimes with considerable success.
LYUBOV’
Do you do palm-reading?
TROSHCHEYKIN
Oh, if you could only predict what will become of us! Here we are sitting joking—a feast during the plague—and all the time I have a feeling that any minute we may be blown sky-high, (to Barboshin) For Christ’s sake, finish your stupid tea!
BARBOSHIN
It’s not stupid at all.
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
Not long ago I read a book by a certain Hindu author. He gives amazing examples....
TROSHCHEYKIN
Unfortunately I can’t live very long in a state of amazement. I think my hair is going to turn gray overnight.
MESHAEV TWO
That so?
LYUBOV’
Would you tell my fortune?
MESHAEV TWO
Glad to. Only I haven’t done this for a long time. Cold little hand you have.
TROSHCHEYKIN
Predict a journey for her, I implore you.
MESHAEV TWO
What curious lines. The life line, for example.... Actually, you ought to have died a long time ago. How old are you? Twenty-two, twenty-three?
(Barboshin starts slowly and somewhat diffidently to examine his own palm.)
LYUBOV’
Twenty-five. I survived by a fluke.
MESHAEV TWO
Your reason is obedient to your heart, but your heart is a rational one. Well, what else can I tell you? You have a feeling for nature, but are rather indifferent to art.
TROSHCHEYKIN
True enough.
MESHAEV TWO
You will die.... You’re not afraid to learn how you will die?
LYUBOV’
Not a bit. Tell me.
MESHAEV TWO
There’s a certain bifurcation here, though, that perplexes me.... No, I won’t venture to give an exact answer.
BARBOSHIN
(proffering his palm)
Here’s mine.
LYUBOV’
Welt, you certainly didn’t tell me very much. I thought you would predict something extraordinary, something startling ... for instance, that my life has reached an abyss, that an incredible, fearful, magical happiness awaits me....
TROSHCHEYKIN
Quiet! I thought I heard somebody ring.... Eh?
BARBOSHIN
(thrusting his hand toward Meshaev Two)
Here’s mine.
ANTONINA PAVLOVNA
No, you’re hearing things. Poor Alyosha, poor dear.... Take it easy, darling.
MESHAEV TWO
(mechanically taking Barboshin’s palm)
You ask too much of me, dear lady. The hand is sometimes reticent. Of course, there are garrulous, outspoken palms. Ten years ago I predicted all kinds of disasters for a man, and today, just a short while ago, as I was getting off the train, I suddenly see him on the station platform. Turned out he had spent several years in jail, because of some romantic brawl, and was now going abroad for good. A certain Barbashin, Leonid Barbashin. It was strange, running into him and then saying good-by right away. (leans over the hand of Barboshin, who is also sitting with lowered head)
He asked me to say hello to our mutual friends, but you wouldn’t know him, I’m sure....
CURTAIN
Mstislav Dobujinsky’s sketches for the sets of the 1941 Heckscher Theatre (New York) production of The Event.
Acts I and III: The studio (the balls in the painting on the easel are blank white for Act I, fully painted in for Act III).
Act II : The dining room.
The Pole
DRAMA IN ONE ACT
INTRODUCTORY NOTE
The first version of The Pole (Polyus) was completed at the Domaine de Beaulieu, Sollies-Pont, Var (near Toulon), on 8 July 1923. It was revised in Berlin in April of 1924. The present text is a collation of two handwritten transcriptions, representing slightly different versions, from the albums of Vladimir Nabokov’s mother, and of the play as published in two installments in Rul’ in Berlin, 14 and 16 August 1924, with a few minor supplementary corrections of what were obvious oversights or misprints.