The Storm

KULIGIN.

I'll go to the parade, sir. I'm in your way. I'll wait for you there.

BORIS.

Very well, I'll come directly.

VARVARA (hiding her face in her kerchief).

Do you know the hollow behind the Kabanovs' garden?

BORIS.

Yes.

VARVARA.

You come there a little later on.

BORIS.

What for?

VARVARA.

How stupid you are! Come; then you'll see what for. Well, you'd better

make haste now, since that person's waiting for you. (Boris goes.)

There, he didn't know me! Well, now let him wonder, I know very well that

Katerina won't hold out, she'll run out to see him. [Goes in at the gate.

Curtain.

SCENE V

The scene changes.

A hollow dell covered with bushes; at the top of it the Kabanovs' garden and a gate; a path leading down from it.

(Kudriash enters with a, guitar.)

KUDRIASH. No one. What is she up to? Well, I'll sit and wait for her. (Seats himself on a stone) This is slow; I'll sing a song (sings).

  As the Don Cossack, the Cossack, leads his horse to drink,

  The brave young man, he stands at the gate,

  At the gate he stands, and ponders in his heart,

  In his heart he ponders, how he will slay his wife.

  And the wife, the wife besought him,

  Falling down at his swift feet;

  Master, friend of my heart, I pray thee,

  Strike me not, slay me not in the evening!

  But kill me, slay me after midnight!

  Let my little children be asleep,

  My little children, and all my good neighbours. [Enter Boris.

SCENE VI

KUDRIASH and BORIS.

KUDRIASH (stops singing). Hullo! Such a sober, staid person as you, out on the spree too?

BORIS.

Kudriash, is that you?

KUDRIASH.

It is, Boris Grigoritch.

BORIS.

What are you here for?

KUDRIASH. What for? I suppose because I want to be here, Boris Grigoritch, since I am here. I shouldn't have come if I hadn't wanted to. Where is fortune taking you?

BORIS (looking carefully at the scene around him). Look here, Kudriash, I've got to stop here, and I've no doubt it's all the same to you, so you might go and sit in some other place.

KUDRIASH. No, Boris Grigoritch, you're here, I perceive, for the first time, but this is a place where I have often sat, and this little path has been trodden by my feet. I like you, sir, and am ready to do you any service; but you'll kindly refrain from meeting me in this path at night, lest evil come of it. Fair words are better than gold.

BORIS.