Act II - Page 2

PETUSHKÓV (interrupting). I know so well what you mean. But where is
she now?

FÉDYA. I don't know. I don't want to know. All that belongs to another
life, and I couldn't bear to mix that life and this life.

[A POLICE OFFICER enters from up R., kicks a man who is lying on
the floor--walks down stage, looks at FÉDYA and PETUSHKÓV, then
exits.

PETUSHKÓV. Your life's wonderful. I believe you're a real idealist.

FÉDYA. No. It's awfully simple. You know among our class--I mean the
class I was born in--there are only three courses: the first, to go
into the civil service or join the army and make money to squander
over your sensual appetites. And all that was appalling to me--perhaps
because I couldn't do it. The second thing is to live to clear out, to
destroy what is foul, to make way for the beautiful. But for that
you've got to be a hero, and I'm not a hero. And the third is to
forget it all--overwhelm it with music, drown it with wine. That's
what I did. And look (he spreads his arms out) where my singing led me
to.

[He drinks.

PETUSHKÓV. And what about family life? The sanctity of the home and
all that--I would have been awfully happy if I'd had a decent wife. As
it was, she ruined me.

FÉDYA. I beg your pardon. Did you say marriage? Oh, yes, of course.
Well, I've been married, too. Oh, my wife was quite an ideal woman. I
don't know why I should say was, by the way, because she's still
living. But there's something--I don't know; it's rather difficult to
explain--But you know how pouring champagne into a glass makes it
froth up into a million iridescent little bubbles? Well, there was
none of that in our married life. There was no fizz in it, no sparkle,
no taste, phew! The days were all one color--flat and stale and gray
as the devil. And that's why I wanted to get away and forget. You
can't forget unless you play. So trying to play I crawled in every
sort of muck there is. And you know, it's a funny thing, but we love
people for the good we do them, and we hate them for the harm. That's
why I hated Lisa. That's why she seemed to love me.

PETUSHKÓV. Why do you say seemed?

FÉDYA (wistfully). Oh, she couldn't creep into the center of my being
like Masha. But that's not what I mean. Before the baby was born, and
afterwards, when she was nursing him, I used to stay away for days and
days, and come back drunk, drunk, and love her less and less each
time, because I was wronging her so terribly. (Excitedly.) Yes. That's
it, I never realized it before. The reason why I loved Masha was
because I did her good, not harm. But I crucified my wife, and her
contortions filled me almost with hatred.