The Storm

KABANOV. Oh, he's wretched too; he weeps. His uncle and I, we set upon him not long ago, we swore at him—he didn't say a word. He seems like a wild thing. Do what you like to me, says he, only don't torment her! He's sorry for her too.

KULIGIN.

He's a good fellow, sir.

KABANOV. He's packed up and ready, and the horses are ordered. He's so wretched, it's awful! I can see he wants to say good-bye to her. But that's too much! I can't have it. He's been an enemy to me, you know, Kuligin! He ought to be thrashed within an inch of his life to teach him …

KULIGIN.

We must forgive our enemies, sir!

KABANOV. You go and tell that to mamma, and see what she'll say to it. So, brother Kuligin, all our family is now split up and divided. We're not like relations but enemies to one another. Mamma kept nagging and nagging at Varvara; she couldn't stand it, and she soon made an end of it—she's simply gone away.

KULIGIN.

Where has she gone?

KABANOV. No one knows. They do say she's run off with Vania Kudriash, and he can't be found anywhere either. It's all mamma's doing. I'll tell you frankly, Kuligin: she had started bullying her and locking her up. 'Don't shut me up,' she said, 'or it will be the worse,' and so it has turned out. What am I to do, tell me that! Tell me how I am to live now! My home is made loathsome to me, I'm put to shame before everyone, if I set about anything my hands drop listless and dejected. Here I'm on my way home now. Shall I find any happiness there, do you suppose? [Enter Glasha.

GLASHA.

Master, Tihon Ivanitch!

KABANOV.

What is it now?

GLASHA.

There's something wrong at home, sir!

KABANOV.

Mercy on us! It's one thing on top of another! Tell me, what is it?

GLASHA.

Why, your good lady….

KABANOV.

Well, what? Is she dead?

GLASHA.

No, sir, she has disappeared; we can't find her anywhere.

KABANOV. Kuligin! we must run and search for her. Do you know what I am afraid of? That she may be driven in her misery to lay hands on herself! She grieves and grieves,—ah, God! It rends my heart to see her. What were you thinking of? Has she been gone long?

GLASHA. No, sir, not long! It's we're to blame, of course; we didn't keep an eye on her every minute. Though it's true, to be sure, the most watchful will be caught napping sooner or later.

KABANOV.

Well, don't stand there doing nothing; bestir yourself! (Exit Glasha.)

And let us go too, Kuligin!

[They go. The stage is empty for a little while. From the opposite side, Katerina enters and walks slowly about the stage.

SCENE II

KATERINA alone.

[Throughout the whole monologue and in the following scenes she speaks slowly and disconnectedly, repeating words dreamily and, as it were, in a state of forgetfulness.

KATERINA. No, no, nowhere! What is he doing, my poor boy, now? All I want is to say good-bye to him, and then … and then death. Why did I lead him into trouble. It's made it no better for me! I should have suffered alone! But I have ruined myself, ruined him, brought dishonour on myself,—everlasting disgrace on him—yes,—dishonour on myself, and on him everlasting disgrace. (Silence.) If I could remember what it was he said. How he felt for me? What were the words he said? (Clutches at her head) I can't remember, I have forgotten everything. The nights, oh, the nights are a weariness to me! All lie down to sleep, I too lie down; it is well with all of them, but I lie as in my grave. It is fearful in the darkness! There is a sound of singing as at some burial; but so soft, almost out of hearing, far away, far from me…. How one longs for the light! But I can't bear to get up—the same people again, the same talk, the same torture. Why do they look at me so? Why is it they don't kill one nowadays? Why don't they? In old days, they say, they used to kill women. If they would take me and throw me into the Volga, I would be glad. 'If we kill you,' they say, 'your sin is taken from you; you must live, and suffer for your sin.' But I have suffered for it already! Am I to suffer much longer? What have I to live for now, what for? I care for nothing, nothing is sweet to me, the light of day is not sweet to me! And still death does not come. One calls upon death and death comes not. Whatever I look upon, whatever I hear, it is nothing but aching here (touching her heart). If I could be with him, there might perhaps be still some joy for me…. Nay, it's all the same, my soul is lost now. How sick I am with longing for him! If I cannot see thee, hear me at least from far away! Wild winds, bear my grief and longing to him! My God! I am weary, I am weary! (goes to the river bank and cries loudly at the top of her voice) My sweet, my heart, my soul, I love you! Answer! [Falls a-weeping. Enter Boris.

SCENE III