to insult. The more anyone insulted him the more he loved the offender. They abused him, and he praised them. They hit him and he helped them. Uncle said that anybody who acts so feels very happy. I liked what he said, and I wanted to be like that man. So, when Grisha hit me yesterday, I remembered my wish and kissed Grisha. He burst out crying. I felt very happy. But with nurse yesterday it was different; she began scolding me, and I quite forgot how I ought to have behaved, and I answered her very rudely. What I wish now is to have the same experience over again that I had with Grisha.
| Masha |
Then you would like somebody to strike you? |
| Vania |
I would like it awfully. I would immediately do what I did to Grisha, and I would be so glad. |
| Masha |
How stupid! Just like the fool you’ve always been. |
| Vania |
I don’t mind being a fool. I only know now what to do, so as to feel happy all the time. |
| Masha |
A regular fool! Do you really feel happy, doing so? |
| Vania |
Just awfully happy! |
On the Press
The schoolroom at home.
|
Volodia, a schoolboy of fourteen, is reading; Sonia, a girl of fifteen, is writing. The Yard-Porter enters, carrying a heavy load on his back; Misha, a boy of eight, following him. |
| Porter |
Where am I to put that bundle, sir? My shoulders are bent down with the weight of it. |
| Volodia |
Where were you told to put it? |
| Porter |
Vasily Timofeëvich told me to carry it to the schoolroom and leave it for him. |
| Volodia |
Then put it in the corner. |
|
Porter unloads the bundle and sighs heavily. |
| Sonia |
What is it? |
| Volodia |
Truth—a paper. |
| Misha |
Truth? What do you mean? |
| Sonia |
Why have you so many? |
| Volodia |
It is a collection of the whole year’s issues. Continues reading. |
| Misha |
Has all this been written? |
| Porter |
The fellows who wrote it weren’t very lazy, I’ll bet. |
| Volodia |
Laughs. What did you say? |
| Porter |
I said what I meant. It wasn’t a lazy lot that wrote all that. Well, I’m going. Will you kindly say I have brought the bundle. Exit. |
| Sonia |
To Volodia. What does father want all those papers for? |
| Volodia |
He wants to collect Bolchakov’s articles from them. |
| Sonia |
And Uncle Michael Ivanovich says reading Bolchakov makes him ill. |
| Volodia |
Just like Uncle Michael Ivanovich. He only reads Truth for All. |
| Misha |
And is uncle’s Truth as big as this? |
| Sonia |
Bigger. But this is only for one year, and the papers have been published twenty years or more. |
| Misha |
That makes twenty such bundles and another twenty more. |
| Sonia |
Wishing to mystify Misha. That’s nothing. These are only two papers, and besides there are at least thirty more. |
| Volodia |
Without raising his head. Thirty, you say! There are five hundred and thirty in Russia alone. And with those published abroad there are thousands altogether. |
| Misha |
They couldn’t all be put into this room. |
| Volodia |
Not even in this whole street. But please don’t disturb me in my work. Tomorrow teacher is sure to call upon me, and you don’t give me a chance of learning my lessons with your silly talk. Resumes his reading. |
| Misha |
I don’t think there’s any use writing so much. |
| Sonia |
Why not? |
| Misha |
Because if what they write is true, then why say the same thing over and over again? If it isn’t, then why say what is not true? |
| Sonia |
An excellent judgment! |
| Misha |
Why do they write such an awful lot? |
| Volodia |
Without taking his eyes off his book. Because if it wasn’t for the freedom of the press, how would people know what the truth is? |
| Misha |
Father says the Truth contains the truth, and Uncle Michael Ivanovich says Truth makes him ill. Then how do they know where the truth really is—in Truth or in Truth for All? |
| Sonia |
I think you are right. There are really too many papers and magazines and books. |
| Volodia |
Just like a woman: perfectly senseless in every conclusion! |
| Sonia |
I only mean that when there is so much written it is impossible to know anything really. |
| Volodia |
But everybody has brains given him to find out where the truth is. |
| Misha |
Then if everybody has got brains he can reason things out for himself. |
| Volodia |
So that’s how you reason with your large supply of brains! Please go somewhere else and leave me alone to work. |
On Repentance
Volia, a boy of eight, stands in the passage with an empty plate and cries. Fedia, a boy of ten, comes running into the passage.
| Fedia |
Mother sent me to see where you were; but what are you crying for? Have you brought nurse … Sees the empty plate, and whistles. Where is the cake? |
| Volia |
I—I—I wanted it, I—and then suddenly—Boo-hoo-hoo! All of a sudden I ate it up—without meaning to. |
| Fedia |
Instead of taking it to nurse, you have eaten it yourself on the way! Well I never! Mother thought you wanted nurse to have the cake. |
| Volia |
I did and then suddenly, without meaning to.—Boo-hoo-hoo! |
| Fedia |
You just tasted it, and then you ate the whole of it. Well, I never! Laughs. |
| Volia |
It is all very well for you to laugh, but how am I going to tell. … Now I can’t go to nurse—or to mother either. |
| Fedia |
A nice mess you have made of it, I must say. Ha, ha! So you have eaten the whole cake? It is no use crying. Just try to think of some way of getting out of it. |
| Volia |
I can’t see how I can. What shall I do? |
| Fedia |
Fancy that! Trying to restrain himself from laughing. A pause. |
| Volia |
What am I to do now? I am lost. Howls. |
| Fedia |
Don’t you care. Stop that howling. Simply go to mother and tell her you have eaten the cake yourself. |
| Volia |
That is worse. |
| Fedia |
Then go and confess to nurse. |
| Volia |
How can I? |
| Fedia |
Listen; you wait here. I will find nurse and tell her. |
