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VOYNITSKY AND FYODOR IVANOVICH

FYODOR (in the doorway): Are you by yourself? No ladies present? (Entering.) I was awakened by the storm. Glorious rain. What’s the time?

VOYNITSKY: The time be damned!

FYODOR: I fancy I heard the voice of Elena Andreyevna.

VOYNITSKY: She was here just now.

FYODOR: Magnificent woman! (Examining the medicines on the table.) What’s this? Peppermint lozenges? (Tasting.) Yes, a magnificent woman! … Is the professor ill, or what?

VOYNITSKY: He’s ill.

FYODOR: I can’t understand such an existei. They say that the ancient Greeks used to throw their weak and ailing children into the abyss from Mont Blanc. Such as he ought to be thrown down too!

VOYNITSKY (irritably): Not Mont Blanc, but the Tarpeian rock. What crass ignorance!

FYODOR: Well, if it’s a rock, let it be a rock. … As if it damned well mattered! Why are you so gloomy now? Are you sorry for the professor, are you?

VOYNITSKY: Let me alone. (A pause.)

FYODOR: Or perhaps you are in love with Mme Professor? Eh? Why, that’s right… Sigh for her… Only listen: if in the rumours, which are circulating in the distruct, there’s a hundredth part of truth, and if I find it out, then don’t ask for mercy, I’ll throw you down from the Tarpeian rock.

VOYNITSKY: She’s my friend!

FYODOR: Already?

VOYNITSKY: What do you mean by “already “?

FYODOR: A woman can be a man’s friend only on this condition: first she’s his acquaintance, then his mistress, and only then his friend.

VOYNITSKY: What a coarse philosophy!

FYODOR: On which account let’s have a drink. Come, I think I’ve still got a bottle of Chartreuse. We’ll drink. And when the dawn comes, we will drive over to my place. Agreed? (Seeing SONYA enter.) Oh, heavens, excuse my not having a tie on! [Runs out.