KHLESTAKOV. No, nothing.
The Postmaster bows and goes out.
KHLESTAKOV (lighting a cigar). It seems to me the Postmaster is a fine fellow, too. He's certainly obliging. I like people like that.
Scene V
Khlestakov and Luka Lukich, who is practically pushed in on the stage. A voice behind him is heard saying nearly aloud, "Don't be chickenhearted."
LUKA (drawing himself up, trembling, with his hand on his sword). I have the honor to present myself—School Inspector, Titular Councilor Khlopov.
KHLESTAKOV. I'm glad to see you. Take a seat, take a seat. Will you have a cigar? (Offers him a cigar.)
LUKA (to himself, hesitating). There now! That's something I hadn't anticipated. To take or not to take?
KHLESTAKOV. Take it, take it. It's a pretty good cigar. Of course not what you get in St. Petersburg. There I used to smoke twenty-five cent cigars. You feel like kissing yourself after having smoked one of them. Here, light it. (Hands him a candle.)
Luka Lukich tries to light the cigar shaking all over.
KHLESTAKOV. Not that end, the other.
LUKA (drops the cigar from fright, spits and shakes his hands. Aside). Confound it! My damned timidity has ruined me!
KHLESTAKOV. I see you are not a lover of cigars. I confess smoking is my weakness—smoking and the fair sex. Not for the life of me can I remain indifferent to the fair sex. How about you? Which do you like more, brunettes or blondes?
Luka Lukich remains silent, at a complete loss what to say.
KHLESTAKOV. Tell me frankly, brunettes or blondes?
LUKA. I don't dare to know.
KHLESTAKOV. No, no, don't evade. I'm bound to know your taste.
LUKA. I venture to report to you—(Aside.) I don't know what I'm saying.
KHLESTAKOV. Ah, you don't want to say. I suppose some little brunette or other has cast a spell over you. Confess, she has, hasn't she?
Luka Lukich remains silent.
KHLESTAKOV. Ah, you're blushing. You see. Why don't you speak?
LUKA. I'm scared, your Hon—High—Ex—(Aside.) Done for! My confounded tongue has undone me!
KHLESTAKOV. You're scared? There IS something awe-inspiring in my eyes, isn't there? At least I know not a single woman can resist them. Isn't that so?
LUKA. Exactly.
KHLESTAKOV. A strange thing happened to me on the road. I ran entirely out of cash. Can you lend me three hundred rubles?
LUKA (clutching his pockets. Aside). A fine business if I haven't got the money! I have! I have! (Takes out the bills and gives them to him, trembling.)
KHLESTAKOV. Thank you very much.
LUKA (drawing himself up, with his hand on his sword). I will not venture to disturb you with my presence any longer.
KHLESTAKOV. Good-by.
LUKA (dashes out almost at a run, saying aside.) Well, thank the Lord! Maybe he won't inspect the schools.
Scene VI
Khlestakov and Artemy Filippovich.
ARTEMY (enters and draws himself up, his hand on his sword). I have the honor to present myself—Superintendent of Charities, Court Councilor Zemlianika.
KHLESTAKOV. Howdeedo? Please sit down.
ARTEMY. I had the honor of receiving you and personally conducting you through the philanthropic institutions committed to my care.
KHLESTAKOV. Oh, yes, I remember. You treated me to a dandy lunch.
ARTEMY. I am glad to do all I can in behalf of my country.
KHLESTAKOV. I admit, my weakness is a good cuisine.—Tell me, please, won't you—it seems to me you were a little shorter yesterday, weren't you?
ARTEMY. Quite possible. (After a pause.) I may say I spare myself no pains and perform the duties of my office with the utmost zeal. (Draws his chair closer and speaks in a lowered tone.) There's the postmaster, for example, he does absolutely nothing. Everything is in a fearful state of neglect. The mail is held up. Investigate for yourself, if you please, and you will see. The Judge, too, the man who was here just now, does nothing but hunt hares, and he keeps his dogs in the court rooms, and his conduct, if I must confess—and for the benefit of the fatherland, I must confess, though he is my relative and friend—his conduct is in the highest degree reprehensible. There is a squire here by the name of Dobchinsky, whom you were pleased to see. Well, the moment Dobchinsky leaves the house, the Judge is there with Dobchinsky's wife. I can swear to it. You just take a look at the children. Not one of them resembles Dobchinsky. All of them, even the little girl, are the very image of the Judge.
KHLESTAKOV. You don't say so. I never imagined it.
ARTEMY. Then take the School Inspector here. I don't know how the government could have entrusted him with such an office. He's worse than a Jacobin freethinker, and he instils such pernicious ideas into the minds of the young that I can hardly describe it. Hadn't I better put it all down on paper, if you so order?
KHLESTAKOV. Very well, why not? I should like it very much. I like to kill the weary hours reading something amusing, you know. What is your name? I keep forgetting.
ARTEMY. Zemlianika.
KHLESTAKOV. Oh, yes, Zemlianika. Tell me, Mr. Zemlianika, have you any children?
ARTEMY. Of course. Five. Two are already grown up.
KHLESTAKOV. You don't say! Grown up! And how are they—how are they—a—a?
ARTEMY. You mean that you deign to ask what their names are?
KHLESTAKOV. Yes, yes, what are their names?
ARTEMY. Nikolay, Ivan, Yelizaveta, Marya and Perepetuya.
KHLESTAKOV. Good.
ARTEMY. I don't venture to disturb you any longer with my presence and rob you of your time dedicated to the performance of your sacred duties—(Bows and makes to go.)
KHLESTAKOV (escorting him). Not at all. What you told me is all very funny. Call again, please. I like that sort of thing very much. (Turns back and reopens the door, calling.) I say, there! What is your—I keep forgetting. What is your first name and your patronymic?
ARTEMY. Artemy Filippovich.
KHLESTAKOV. Do me a favor, Artemy Filippovich. A curious accident happened to me on the road. I've run entirely out of cash. Have you four hundred rubles to lend me?
ARTEMY. I have.
KHLESTAKOV. That comes in pat. Thank you very much.
Scene VII
Khlestakov, Bobchinsky, and Dobchinsky.
BOBCHINSKY. I have the honor to present myself—a resident of this town, Piotr, son of Ivan Bobchinsky.
DOBCHINSKY. I am Piotr, son of Ivan Dobchinsky, a squire.
KHLESTAKOV. Oh, yes, I've met you before. I believe you fell? How's your nose?
BOBCHINSKY. It's all right. Please don't trouble. It's dried up, dried up completely.
KHLESTAKOV. That's nice. I'm glad it's dried up. (Suddenly and abruptly.) Have you any money?
DOBCHINSKY. Money? How's that—money?
KHLESTAKOV. A thousand rubles to lend me.
BOBCHINSKY. Not so much as that, honest to God I haven't. Have you, Piotr Ivanovich?
DOBCHINSKY. I haven't got it with me, because my money—I beg to inform you—is deposited in the State Savings Bank.
KHLESTAKOV. Well, if you haven't a thousand, then a hundred.
BOBCHINSKY (fumbling in his pockets). Have you a hundred rubles, Piotr Ivanovich? All I have is forty.
DOBCHINSKY (examining his pocket-book). I have only twenty-five.
BOBCHINSKY. Look harder, Piotr Ivanovich. I know you have a hole in your pocket, and the money must have dropped down into it somehow.
DOBCHINSKY. No, honestly, there isn't any in the hole either.
KHLESTAKOV. Well, never mind. I merely mentioned the matter. Sixty-five will do. (Takes the money.)
DOBCHINSKY. May I venture to ask a favor of you concerning a very delicate matter?
KHLESTAKOV. What is it?
DOBCHINSKY. It's a matter of an extremely delicate nature. My oldest son—I beg to inform you—was born before I was married.
; KHLESTAKOV. Indeed?
DOBCHINSKY. That is, only in a sort of way. He is really my son, just as if he had been born in wedlock. I made up everything afterwards, set everything right, as it should be, with the bonds of matrimony, you know. Now, I venture to inform you, I should like to have him altogether—that is, I should like him to be altogether my legitimate son and be called Dobchinsky the same as I.
KHLESTAKOV. That's all right. Let him be called Dobchinsky. That's possible.
DOBCHINSKY. I shouldn't have troubled you; but it's a pity, he is such a talented youngster. He gives the greatest promise. He can recite different poems by heart; and whenever he gets hold of a penknife, he makes little carriages as skilfully as a conjurer. Here's Piotr Ivanovich. He knows. Am I not right?
BOBCHINSKY. Yes, the lad is very talented.
KHLESTAKOV. All right, all right. I'll try to do it for you. I'll speak to—I hope—it'll be done, it'll all be done. Yes, yes. (Turning to Bobchinsky.) Have you anything you'd like to say to me?
BOBCHINSKY. Why, of course. I have a most humble request to make.
KHLESTAKOV. What is it?
BOBCHINSKY. I beg your Highness or your Excellency most worshipfully, when you get back to St. Petersburg, please tell all the high personages there, the senators and the admirals, that Piotr Ivanovich Bobchinsky lives in this town. Say this: "Piotr Ivanovich lives there."
KHLESTAKOV. Very well.
BOBCHINSKY. And if you should happen to speak to the Czar, then tell him, too: "Your Majesty," tell him, "Your Majesty, Piotr Ivanovich Bobchinsky lives in this town."
KHLESTAKOV. Very well.
BOBCHINSKY. Pardon me for having troubled you with my presence.
KHLESTAKOV. Not at all, not at all. It was my pleasure. (Sees them to the door.)
Scene VIII
KHLESTAKOV (alone). My, there are a lot of officials here. They seem to be taking me for a government functionary. To be sure, I threw dust in their eyes yesterday. What a bunch of fools! I'll write all about it to Triapichkin in St. Petersburg. He'll write them up in the papers. Let him give them a nice walloping.—Ho, Osip, give me paper and ink.
OSIP (looking in at the door). D'rectly.
KHLESTAKOV. Anybody gets caught in Triapichkin's tongue had better look out. For the sake of a witticism he wouldn't spare his own father. They are good people though, these officials. It's a nice trait of theirs to lend me money. I'll just see how much it all mounts up to. Here's three hundred from the Judge and three hundred from the Postmaster—six hundred, seven hundred, eight hundred—What a greasy bill!—Eight hundred, nine hundred.—Oho! Rolls up to more than a thousand! Now, if I get you, captain, now! We'll see who'll do whom!
Scene IX
Khlestakov and Osip entering with paper and ink.
KHLESTAKOV. Now, you simpleton, you see how they receive and treat me. (Begins to write.)
OSIP. Yes, thank God! But do you know what, Ivan Aleksandrovich?
KHLESTAKOV. What?
OSIP. Leave this place. Upon my word, it's time.
KHLESTAKOV (writing). What nonsense! Why?
OSIP. Just so. God be with them. You've had a good time here for two days. It's enough. What's the use of having anything more to do with them? Spit on them. You don't know what may happen. Somebody else may turn up. Upon my word, Ivan Aleksandrovich. And the horses here are fine. We'll gallop away like a breeze.
KHLESTAKOV (writing). No, I'd like to stay a little longer. Let's go tomorrow.
OSIP. Why tomorrow? Let's go now, Ivan Aleksandrovich, now, 'pon my word. To be sure, it's a great honor and all that. But really we'd better go as quick as we can. You see, they've taken you for somebody else, honest. And your dad will be angry because you dilly-dallied so long. We'd gallop off so smartly. They'd give us first-class horses here.
KHLESTAKOV (writing). All right. But first take this letter to the postoffice, and, if you like, order post horses at the same time. Tell the postilions that they should drive like couriers and sing songs, and I'll give them a ruble each. (Continues to write.) I wager Triapichkin will die laughing.
OSIP. I'll send the letter off by the man here. I'd rather be packing in the meanwhile so as to lose no time.
KHLESTAKOV. All right. Bring me a candle.
OSIP (outside the door, where he is heard speaking). Say, partner, go to the post office and mail a letter, and tell the postmaster to frank it. And have a coach sent round at once, the very best courier coach; and tell them the master doesn't pay fare. He travels at the expense of the government. And make them hurry, or else the master will be angry. Wait, the letter isn't ready yet.
KHLESTAKOV. I wonder where he lives now, on Pochtamtskaya or Grokhovaya Street. He likes to move often, too, to get out of paying rent. I'll make a guess and send it to Pochtamtskaya Street. (Folds the letter and addresses it.)
Osip brings the candle. Khlestakov seals the letter with sealing wax. At that moment Derzhimorda's voice is heard saying: "Where are you going, whiskers? You've been told that nobody is allowed to come in."
KHLESTAKOV (giving the letter to Osip). There, have it mailed.
MERCHANT'S VOICE. Let us in, brother. You have no right to keep us out. We have come on business.
DERZHIMORDA'S VOICE. Get out of here, get out of here! He doesn't receive anybody. He's asleep.
The disturbance outside grows louder.
KHLESTAKOV. What's the matter there, Osip? See what the noise is about.
OSIP (looking through the window). There are some merchants there who want to come in, and the sergeant won't let them. They are waving papers. I suppose they want to see you.
KHLESTAKOV (going to the window). What is it, friends?
MERCHANT'S VOICE. We appeal for your protection. Give orders, your Lordship, that our petitions be received.
KHLESTAKOV. Let them in, let them in. Osip, tell them to come in.
Osip goes out.
KHLESTAKOV (takes the petitions through the window, unfolds one of them and reads). "To his most honorable, illustrious financial Excellency, from the merchant Abdulin...." The devil knows what this is! There's no such title.
Scene X
Khlestakov and Merchants, with a basket of wine and sugar loaves.
KHLESTAKOV. What is it, friends?
MERCHANTS. We beseech your favor.
KHLESTAKOV. What do you want?
MERCHANTS. Don't ruin us, your Worship. We suffer insult and wrong wholly without cause.
KHLESTAKOV. From whom?
A MERCHANT. Why, from our governor here. Such a governor there never was yet in the world, your Worship. No words can describe the injuries he inflicts upon us. He has taken the bread out of our mouths by quartering soldiers on us, so that you might as well put your neck in a noose. He doesn't treat you as you deserve. He catches hold of your beard and says, "Oh, you Tartar!" Upon my word, if we had shown him any disrespect, but we obey all the laws and regulations. We don't mind giving him what his wife and daughter need for their clothes, but no, that's not enough. So help me God! He comes to our shop and takes whatever his eyes fall on. He sees a piece of cloth and says, "Oh, my friends, that's a fine piece of goods. Take it to my house." So we take it to his house. It will be almost forty yards.
KHLESTAKOV. Is it possible? My, what a swindler!
MERCHANTS. So help us God! No one remembers a governor like him. When you see him coming you hide everything in the shop. It isn't only that he wants a few delicacies and fineries. He takes every bit of trash, too—prunes that have been in the barrel seven years and that even the boy in my shop would not eat, and he grabs a fist full. His name day is St. Anthony's, and you'd think there's nothing else left in the world to bring him and that he doesn't want any more. But no, you must give him more. He says St. Onufry's is also his name day. What's to be done? You have to take things to him on St. Onufry's day, too.
KHLESTAKOV. Why, he's a plain robber.
MERCHANTS. Yes, indeed! And try to contradict him, and he'll fill you
r house with a whole regiment of soldiers. And if you say anything, he orders the doors closed. "I won't inflict corporal punishment on you," he says, "or put you in the rack. That's forbidden by law," he says. "But I'll make you swallow salt herring, my good man."
KHLESTAKOV. What a swindler! For such things a man can be sent to Siberia.
MERCHANTS. It doesn't matter where you are pleased to send him. Only the farthest away from here the better. Father, don't scorn to accept our bread and salt. We pay our respects to you with sugar and a basket of wine.
KHLESTAKOV. No, no. Don't think of it. I don't take bribes. Oh, if, for example, you would offer me a loan of three hundred rubles, that's quite different. I am willing to take a loan.
MERCHANTS. If you please, father. (They take out money.) But what is three hundred? Better take five hundred. Only help us.
KHLESTAKOV. Very well. About a loan I won't say a word. I'll take it.
MERCHANTS (proffering him the money on a silver tray). Do please take the tray, too.
KHLESTAKOV. Very well. I can take the tray, too.
MERCHANTS (bowing). Then take the sugar at the same time.
KHLESTAKOV. Oh, no. I take no bribes.
OSIP. Why don't you take the sugar, your Highness? Take it. Everything will come in handy on the road. Give here the sugar and that case. Give them here. It'll all be of use. What have you got there—a string? Give it here. A string will be handy on the road, too, if the coach or something else should break—for tying it up.
MERCHANTS. Do us this great favor, your illustrious Highness. Why, if you don't help us in our appeal to you, then we simply don't know how we are to exist. We might as well put our necks in a noose.
KHLESTAKOV. Positively, positively. I shall exert my efforts in your behalf.
(The Merchants leave. A woman's voice is heard saying:)
"Don't you dare not to let me in. I'll make a complaint against you to him himself. Don't push me that way. It hurts."
KHLESTAKOV. Who is there? (Goes to the window.) What is it, mother?