at us, evil man! Your eyes are like the eyes of a devil before cockcrow!
SAVVA. Let him look, pilgrims! You pray, and his eyes won't do you any harm.
BORTSOV. No, I can't. It's too much for my strength! [Goes up to the counter] Listen, Tihon, I ask you for the last time. ... Just half a glass!
TIHON. [Shakes his head] The money!
BORTSOV. My God, haven't I told you! I've drunk it all! Where am I to get it? And you won't go broke even if you do let me have a drop of vodka on tick. A glass of it only costs you two copecks, and it will save me from suffering! I am suffering! Understand! I'm in misery, I'm suffering!
TIHON. Go and tell that to someone else, not to me. ... Go and ask the Orthodox, perhaps they'll give you some for Christ's sake, if they feel like it, but I'll only give bread for Christ's sake.
BORTSOV. You can rob those wretches yourself, I shan't. ... I won't do it! I won't! Understand? [Hits the bar-counter with his fist] I won't. [A pause.] Hm ... just wait. ... [Turns to the pilgrim women] It's an idea, all the same, Orthodox ones! Spare five copecks! My inside asks for it. I'm ill!
FEDYA. Oh, you swindler, with your "spare five copecks." Won't you have some water?
BORTSOV. How I am degrading myself! I don't want it! I don't want anything! I was joking!
MERIK. You won't get it out of him, sir. ... He's a famous skinflint. ... Wait, I've got a five-copeck piece somewhere. ... We'll have a glass between us--half each [Searches in his pockets] The devil ... it's lost somewhere. ... Thought I heard it tinkling just now in my pocket. ... No; no, it isn't there, brother, it's your luck! [A pause.]
BORTSOV. But if I can't drink, I'll commit a crime or I'll kill myself. ... What shall I do, my God! [Looks through the door] Shall I go out, then? Out into this darkness, wherever my feet take me. ...
MERIK. Why don't you give him a sermon, you pilgrims? And you, Tihon, why don't you drive him out? He hasn't paid you for his night's accommodation. Chuck him out! Eh, the people are cruel nowadays. There's no gentleness or kindness in them. ... A savage people! A man is drowning and they shout to him: "Hurry up and drown, we've got no time to look at you; we've got to go to work." As to throwing him a rope--there's no worry about that. ... A rope would cost money.
SAVVA. Don't talk, kind man!
MERIK. Quiet, old wolf! You're a savage race! Herods! Sellers of your souls! [To TIHON] Come here, take off my boots! Look sharp now!
TIHON. Eh, he's let himself go I [Laughs] Awful, isn't it.
MERIK. Go on, do as you're told! Quick now! [Pause] Do you hear me, or don't you? Am I talking to you or the wall? [Stands up]
TIHON. Well ... give over.
MERIK. I want you, you fleecer, to take the boots off me, a poor tramp.
TIHON. Well, well ... don't get excited. Here have a glass. ... Have a drink, now!
MERIK. People, what do I want? Do I want him to stand me vodka, or to take off my boots? Didn't I say it properly? [To TIHON] Didn't you hear me rightly? I'll wait a moment, perhaps you'll hear me then.
[There is excitement among the pilgrims and tramps, who half-raise themselves in order to look at TIHON and MERIK. They wait in silence.]
TIHON. The devil brought you here! [Comes out from behind the bar] What a gentleman! Come on now. [Takes off MERIK'S boots] You child of Cain ...
MERIK. That's right. Put them side by side. ... Like that ... you can go now!
TIHON. [Returns to the bar-counter] You're too fond of being clever. You do it again and I'll turn you out of the inn! Yes! [To BORTSOV, who is approaching] You, again?
BORTSOV. Look here, suppose I give you something made of gold. ... I will give it to you.
TIHON. What are you shaking for? Talk sense!
BORTSOV. It may be mean and wicked on my part, but what am I to do? I'm doing this wicked thing, not reckoning on what's to come. ... If I was tried for it, they'd let me off. Take it, only on condition that you return it later, when I come back from town. I give it to you in front of these witnesses. You will be my witnesses! [Takes a gold medallion out from the breast of his coat] Here it is. ... I ought to take the portrait out, but I've nowhere to put it; I'm wet all over. ... Well, take the portrait, too! Only mind this ... don't let your fingers touch that
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