the springtime, at the suburban estate of MADAM ULANBÉKOV

A PROTÉGÉE OF THE MISTRESS

I

Part of a densely grown garden; on the right benches; at the back a rail fence, separating the garden from a field.

SCENE I

Enter NÁDYA and LÍZA

NÁDYA. No, Líza, don't say that: what comparison could there be between country and city life!

LÍZA. What is there so specially fine about city life?

NÁDYA. Well, everything is different there; the people themselves, and even the whole social order are entirely different. [She sits down on a bench.] When I was in Petersburg with the mistress, one had only to take a look at the sort of people who came to see us, and at the way our rooms were decorated; besides, the mistress took me with her everywhere; we even went on the steamer to Peterhof, and to Tsarskoe Selo.

LÍZA. That was pretty fine, I suppose.

NÁDYA. Yes indeed, it was so splendid that words can't describe it! Because, no matter how much I may tell you about it, if you haven't seen it yourself, you'll never understand. And when a young lady, the mistress's niece, was visiting us, I used to chat with her the whole evening, and sometimes we even sat through the night.

LÍZA. What in the world did you talk about with her?

NÁDYA. Well, naturally, for the most part about the ways of high society, about her dancing partners, and about the officers of the guard. And as she was often at balls, she told me what they talked about there, and whom she had liked best. Only how fine those young ladies are!

LÍZA. What do you mean?

NÁDYA. They're very gay. And where did they learn all that? Afterwards we lived a whole winter in Moscow. Seeing all this, my dear, you try to act like a born lady yourself. Your very manners change, and you try to have a way of talking of your own.

LÍZA. But why should we try to be fine ladies? Much good it does!

NÁDYA. Much good, you say? Well, you see the ladies promised to marry me off, so I am trying to educate myself, so that no one'll be ashamed to take me. You know what sort of wives our officials have; well, what a lot they are! And I understand life and society ten times better than they do. Now I have just one hope: to marry a good man, so I may be the mistress of my own household. You just watch then how I'll manage the house; it will be no worse at my house than at any fine lady's.

LÍZA. God grant your wish! But do you notice how the young master is running after you?

NÁDYA. Much good it'll do him! Of course, he's a pretty fellow, you might even say, a beauty; only he has nothing to expect from me; because I am decidedly not of that sort; and on the other hand, I'm trying now in every way that there may be no scandal of any sort about me. I have but one thing in mind: to get married.

LÍZA. Even married life is sometimes no joy! You may get such a husband that … God help you!

NÁDYA. What a joy it would be to me to marry a really fine man! I, thank God, am able to distinguish between people: who is good, who bad. That's easy to see at once from their manners and conversation. But the mistress is so unreasonable in holding us in so strictly, and in keeping everlasting watch over us! Indeed, it's insulting to me! I'm a girl that knows how to take care of herself without any watching.

LÍZA. It looks as if the master were coming.

NÁDYA. Then let's go. [They rise and go out.

LEONÍD comes in with a gun.

SCENE II

LEONÍD and then POTÁPYCH

LEONÍD. Wait a bit! Hey, you, where are you going? Why are they always running away from me? You can't catch them anyhow! [He stands musing. Silence.

A GIRL sings behind the rail fence:

    "No man may hope to flee the sting
       Of cruel affliction's pain;
     New love within the heart may sing—
       Regret still in its train."

LEONÍD. [Running up to the fence] What a pretty girl you are!

GIRL. Pretty, but not yours!

LEONÍD. Come here!

GIRL. Where?

LEONÍD. To me in the garden.

GIRL. Why go to you?

LEONÍD. I'll go to town and buy you earrings.

GIRL. You're only a kid!

She laughs loudly and goes out. LEONÍD stands with bowed head musing. POTÁPYCH enters in hunting-dress, with a gun.

POTÁPYCH. One can't keep up with you, sir; you have young legs.

LEONÍD. [All the while lost in thought] All this, Potápych, will be mine.

POTÁPYCH. All yours, sir, and we shall all be yours…. Just as we served the old master, so we must serve you…. Because you're of the same blood…. That's the right way. Of course, may God prolong your dear mamma's days….

LEONÍD. Then I shan't enter the service, Potápych; I shall come directly to the country, and here I shall live.

POTÁPYCH. You must enter the service, sir.

LEONÍD. What's that you say? Much I must! They'll make me a copying clerk! [He sits down upon a bench.

POTÁPYCH. No, sir, why should you work yourself? That's not the way to do things! They'll find a position for you—of the most gentlemanly, delicate sort; your clerks will work, but you'll be their chief, over all of them. And promotions will come to you of themselves.

LEONÍD. Perhaps they will make me vice-governor, or elect me marshal of the nobility.

POTÁPYCH. It's not improbable.

LEONÍD. Well, and when I'm vice-governor, shall you be afraid of me?

POTÁPYCH. Why should I be afraid? Let others cringe, but for us it's all the same. You are our master: that's honor enough for us.

LEONÍD. [Not hearing] Tell me, Potápych, have we many pretty girls here?

POTÁPYCH. Why, really, sir, if you think it over, why shouldn't there be girls? There are some on the estate, and among the house servants; only it must be said that in these matters the household is very strictly run. Our mistress, owing to her strict life and her piety, looks after that very carefully. Now just take this: she herself marries off the protégées and housemaids whom she likes. If a man pleases her, she marries the girl off to him, and even gives her a dowry, not a big one—needless to say. There are always two or three protégées on the place. The mistress takes a little girl from some one or other and brings her up; and when she is seventeen or eighteen years old, then, without any talk, she marries her off to some clerk or townsman, just as she takes a notion, and sometimes even to a nobleman. Ah, yes, sir! Only what an existence for these protégées, sir! Misery!

LEONÍD. But why?

POTÁPYCH. They have a hard time. The lady says: "I have found you a prospective husband, and now," she says, "the wedding will be on such and such a day, and that's an end to it; and don't one of you dare to argue about it!" It's a case of get along with you to the man you're told to. Because, sir, I reason this way: who wants to see disobedience in a person he's brought up? And sometimes it happens that