Boris Godunov | Page 6

I flee,
But

nowhere can find refuge--horrible!
Pitiful he whose conscience is
unclean!
TAVERN ON THE LITHUANIAN FRONTIER
MISSAIL and VARLAAM, wandering friars;
GREGORY in secular
attire; HOSTESS
HOSTESS. With what shall I regale you, my reverend
honoured
guests?
VARLAAM. With what God sends, little hostess. Have you
no wine?
HOSTESS. As if I had not, my fathers! I will bring it at
once. (Exit.)
MISSAIL. Why so glum, comrade? Here is that very
Lithuanian
frontier which you so wished to reach.
GREGORY. Until I shall be in Lithuania, till then I shall not Be
content.
VARLAAM. What is it that makes you so fond of Lithuania!
Here
are we, Father Missail and I, a sinner, when we fled
from the
monastery, then we cared for nothing. Was it
Lithuania, was it Russia,
was it fiddle, was it dulcimer?
All the same for us, if only there was
wine. That's the
main thing!
MISSAIL. Well said, Father Varlaam.
HOSTESS. (Enters.)
There you are, my fathers. Drink to your health.
MISSAIL. Thanks, my good friend. God bless thee. (The
monks
drink. Varlaam trolls a ditty: "Thou passest
by, my dear," etc.) (To
GREGORY) Why don't you join
in the song? Not even join in the
song?
GREGORY. I don't wish to.

MISSAIL. Everyone to his liking--
VARLAAM. But a tipsy man's in Heaven.* Father Missail!
We will
drink a glass to our hostess. (Sings: "Where
the brave lad in durance,"
etc.) Still, Father Missail,
when I am drinking, then I don't like sober
men; tipsiness
is one thing--but pride quite another. If you want
to
live as we do, you are welcome. No?--then take
yourself off, away
with you; a mountebank is no
companion for a priest.
[*The Russian text has here a play on the words which cannot be
satisfactorily rendered into English.]
GREGORY. Drink, and keep your thoughts to yourself,*
Father
Varlaam! You see, I too sometimes know how
to make puns.
[*The Russian text has here a play on the words which cannot be
satisfactorily rendered into English.]
VARLAAM. But why should I keep my thoughts to myself?
MISSAIL. Let him alone, Father Varlaam.
VARLAAM. But what sort of a fasting man is he? Of his
own accord
he attached himself as a companion to us;
no one knows who he is,
no one knows whence he comes--
and yet he gives himself grand airs;
perhaps he has a
close acquaintance with the pillory. (Drinks and
sings:
"A young monk took the tonsure," etc.)
GREGORY. (To HOSTESS.) Whither leads this road?
HOSTESS. To Lithuania, my dear, to the Luyov mountains.
GREGORY. And is it far to the Luyov mountains?
HOSTESS. Not far; you might get there by evening, but for
the tsar's
frontier barriers, and the captains of the
guard.

GREGORY. What say you? Barriers! What means this?
HOSTESS. Someone has escaped from Moscow, and orders
have
been given to detain and search everyone.
GREGORY. (Aside.) Here's a pretty mess!
VARLAAM. Hallo, comrade! You've been making up to
mine
hostess. To be sure you don't want vodka, but
you want a young
woman. All right, brother, all right!
Everyone has his own ways, and
Father Missail and I
have only one thing which we care for--we drink
to the
bottom, we drink; turn it upside down, and knock at
the
bottom.
MISSAIL. Well said, Father Varlaam.
GREGORY. (To Hostess.) Whom do they want? Who
escaped from
Moscow?
HOSTESS. God knows; a thief perhaps, a robber. But here
even good
folk are worried now. And what will come of
it? Nothing. They will
not catch the old devil; as if
there were no other road into Lithuania
than the highway!
Just turn to the left from here, then by the
pinewood
or by the footpath as far as the chapel on the
Chekansky
brook, and then straight across the marsh to
Khlopin, and thence to
Zakhariev, and then any child
will guide you to the Luyov mountains.
The only good
of these inspectors is to worry passers-by and rob us
poor
folk. (A noise is heard.) What's that? Ah, there
they are, curse
them! They are going their rounds.
GREGORY. Hostess! Is there another room in the cottage?
HOSTESS. No, my dear; I should be glad myself to hide.
But they
are only pretending to go their rounds; but
give them wine and bread,
and Heaven knows what--
May perdition take them, the accursed
ones! May--

(Enter OFFICERS.)
OFFICERS. Good health to you, mine hostess!
HOSTESS. You are kindly welcome, dear guests.
AN OFFICER. (To another.) Ha, there's drinking going on
here; we
shall get something here. (To the Monks.)
Who are you?
VARLAAM. We--are two old clerics, humble monks; we are
going
from village to village, and collecting Christian
alms for the
monastery.
OFFICER. (To GREGORY.) And thou?
MISSAIL. Our comrade.
GREGORY. A layman from the suburb; I have conducted the
old
men as far as the frontier; from here I am going to
my own home.
MISSAIL. So you have changed your mind?
GREGORY. (Sotto voce.) Be silent.
OFFICER. Hostess, bring some more wine, and we will
drink here a
little and talk a little with these old men.
2ND OFFICER. (Sotto