The Complete Plays

A YOUNG MAN¹

Moлo‰oй чeлo‚eк

At a table, covered with impressive inkblots, sits PRAVDOLYUBOV. Before him stands UPRYAMOV,² a young man with a facetious expression on his face.

PRAVDOLYUBOV (with tears in his eyes). Young man! I have children of my own . . . I have a heart . . . I understand . . . which is why this pains me so. I assure you, as a man of honor, that denying this will only do you harm. Tell me frankly, where were you going just now?

UPRYAMOV. To . . . to the editorial offices of a humor magazine.

PRAVDOLYUBOV. Hm . . . You’re a humorist, I suppose? (Shakes his head reproachfully.) You should be ashamed! So young and yet so depraved . . . What’s that you’re holding?

UPRYAMOV. Manuscripts.

PRAVDOLYUBOV. Hand them over! (Takes them and looks them over.) Now, sir . . . let’s have a look . . . What’s this one?

UPRYAMOV. Subjects for editorial cartoons.

PRAVDOLYUBOV (is bursting with indignation, but, quickly mastering his feelings, calms down and becomes impartial, process-server-style). What’s this drawing?

UPRYAMOV. You see, it’s the drawing of a man. He is standing with one foot in Russia and the other in Austria. He is doing magic tricks. “Gentlemen,” he is saying. “A ruble moves from my right pocket to my left and turns into 65 kopeks!” As a companion-piece to this drawing there’s another. You see, here’s the credit ruble with little hands and feet. He keeps falling down over and over, and there’s a German running after him and clipping him with a scissors . . . Did you get it? This one’s a tavern . . . This is our press, and this press . . . And here are settlers in a birch forest; there are children too, begging for gruel . . . A special kind of gruel, as you must be aware . . . Here’s a drawing of a lackey . . .

PRAVOLYUBOV. And who is this in the mousetrap?

UPRAYMOV. That’s Privy Counselor Rossitsky; the trap is baited with government-issue pork . . .

PRAVOLYUBOV (smacking his lips at the word “pork”). A privy counselor . . . (Blushes for humanity.) So young and yet so depraved . . . Are you aware, my goosir, that a privy counselor is the equivalent of a lieutenant general in the army? How can you fail to understand that? What crude lack of understanding, what profanity! (Sighs.) What am I to do with you now? What? (Grows pensive, but soon a personal feeling transcends his sense of duty, and the prey slips from his grasp.) I cannot look at you, pathetic, unhappy young man! You disgust me, you are pitiful! Get out of here! May my scorn serve as your punishment!

UPRYAMOV, not at all contrite, with an ambiguous smile, sets off for the editorial offices.

NOTES

1 First published in Splinters (Oskolki) 5 (February 4, 1884), p. 5. Moscow readers were surprised that it passed the censorship.

2 Joke names: Pravdolyubov = Lover of Truth; Upryamov = Upright.