Читать книгу The Essential Russian Plays & Short Stories - Максим Горький - Страница 32

Khlestakov, Osip, and later the Servant.

KHLESTAKOV. Well?

OSIP. They're bringing dinner.

KHLESTAKOV [claps his hands and wriggles in his chair]. Dinner, dinner, dinner!

SERVANT [with plates and napkin]. This is the last time the landlord will let you have dinner.

KHLESTAKOV. The landlord, the landlord! I spit on your landlord. What have you got there?

SERVANT. Soup and roast beef.

KHLESTAKOV. What! Only two courses?

SERVANT. That's all.

KHLESTAKOV. Nonsense! I won't take it. What does he mean by that? Ask him. It's not enough.

SERVANT. The landlord says it's too much.

KHLESTAKOV. Why is there no sauce?

SERVANT. There is none.

KHLESTAKOV. Why not? I saw them preparing a whole lot when I passed through the kitchen. And in the dining-room this morning two short little men were eating salmon and lots of other things.

SERVANT. Well, you see, there is some and there isn't.

KHLESTAKOV. Why "isn't"?

SERVANT. Because there isn't any.

KHLESTAKOV. What, no salmon, no fish, no cutlets?

SERVANT. Only for the better kind of folk.

KHLESTAKOV. You're a fool.

SERVANT. Yes, sir.

KHLESTAKOV. You measly suckling pig. Why can they eat and I not? Why the devil can't I eat, too? Am I not a guest the same as they?

SERVANT. No, not the same. That's plain.

KHLESTAKOV. How so?

SERVANT. That's easy. THEY pay, that's it.

KHLESTAKOV. I'm not going to argue with you, simpleton! [Ladles out the soup and begins to eat.] What, you call that soup? Simply hot water poured into a cup. No taste to it at all. It only stinks. I don't want it. Bring me some other soup.

SERVANT. All right. I'll take it away. The boss said if you didn't want it, you needn't take it.

KHLESTAKOV [putting his hand over the dishes]. Well, well, leave it alone, you fool. You may be used to treat other people this way, but I'm not that sort. I advise you not to try it on me. My God! What soup! [Goes on eating.] I don't think anybody in the world tasted such soup. Feathers floating on the top instead of butter. [Cuts the piece of chicken in the soup.] Oh, oh, oh! What a bird!—Give me the roast beef. There's a little soup left, Osip. Take it. [Cuts the meat.] What sort of roast beef is this? This isn't roast beef.

SERVANT. What else is it?

KHLESTAKOV. The devil knows, but it isn't roast beef. It's roast iron, not roast beef. [Eats.] Scoundrels! Crooks! The stuff they give you to eat! It makes your jaws ache to chew one piece of it. [Picks his teeth with his fingers.] Villains! It's as tough as the bark of a tree. I can't pull it out no matter how hard I try. Such meat is enough to ruin one's teeth. Crooks! [Wipes his mouth with the napkin.] Is there nothing else?

SERVANT. No.

KHLESTAKOV. Scoundrels! Blackguards! They might have given some decent pastry, or something, the lazy good-for-nothings! Fleecing their guests! That's all they're good for.

[The Servant takes the dishes and carries them out accompanied by Osip.]