Pras. My son is dead; he was murdered. I buried his body in the Tróitski Cemetery.
Sasha. But you see that I was not murdered. Touch me; feel me. I am alive. I and Adámek fought; it was not Adámek that slew me, it was....
Pras. No, no! I want to hear no more. You have come to torment me. Only say what you want of me, anything, and I will do it, if you will leave me in peace.
Sasha. I want food and clothing; I want shelter; I must have money.
Pras. You will go if I give you money? Yes? Say that you will go, far, far away, and never come back to tell lies.... But I have no money to give; I am a poor woman.
Sasha. Come, what's all this?
Pras. No, no! I need it; I can't spare it. What I have I have starved myself to get. Two roubles, five roubles, even ten roubles I will give you, if you will go far, far away....
Fomá. Before he can travel we must bribe some peasant to lend him his passport.
Pras. Has he no passport then?
Fomá. No.
[A knock. Enter Spiridón.]
Spir. Peace be on this house. May the saints watch over all of you! Astéryi Ivanovitch will have told you of my proposal.
Pras. Yes, I have heard of it, Spiridón.
Fomá. Good-by, Spiridón; there is no work for you here. That is all over.
Pras. Why do you say that that is all over?
Fomá. There will be no tomb-house to build.
Pras. No tomb-house? How dare you say so? He is laughing at us, Spiridón. The tomb-house that we have planned together, with the table in the middle, and the two chairs.... Do not listen to him, Spiridón. At last I have money enough; let us count it together.
Sasha. Give me my share, mother!
Pras. I have no money for you.
Sasha [advancing]. I must have money.
Pras. You shall not touch it.
Sasha. I will not go unless you give me money.
Pras. It is not mine. I have promised it all to Spiridón. Help me, Astéryi Ivanovitch; he will drive me mad! Oh, what must I do? What must I do? Is there no way, Varvára? [Tap of drums without.] [To Sasha.] Go! go! go quickly, or worse will befall you.
Sasha. I will not go and starve while you have all this money.
Pras. Ah! Since you will have it so.... It is you, not I! [Running out at the door and calling.] Patrol! Patrol!
Fomá. Stop her.
Var. Oh, Hóspodi!
Pras. Help! Help! Come here!
Fomá. What have you done? What have you done?
[Enter Corporal and Soldiers.]
Pras. This man is a thief and a murderer. He is a convict escaped from Siberia. He has no passport.
Corp. Is that true? Where is your passport?
Sasha. I have none.
Corp. We are looking for such men as you. Come!
Sasha. This woman is my mother.
Corp. That's her affair. You have no passport; that is enough for me. You'll soon be back on the road to the North with the rest of them.
Sasha. Woman! woman! Have pity on your son.
Corp. Come along, lad, and leave the old woman in peace.
[Exit Sasha in custody.]
Pras. The Lord help me!
[Praskóvya stumbles towards the eikons and sinks blindly before them.]
Fomá [looking after Sasha]. Poor devil!
Astéryi. What's a man compared to an idea?
[Praskóvya rolls over, dead.]
[Curtain.]
MARY'S WEDDING
A Play
By Gilbert Cannan
Copyright, 1913, by Sidgwick and Jackson.
All rights reserved.
Mary's Wedding was first produced at the Coronet Theatre, in May, 1912, with the following cast:
| Mary | Miss Irene Rooke |
| Tom | Mr. Herbert Lomas |
| Ann | Miss Mary Goulden |
| Mrs. Airey | Miss Muriel Pratt |
| Bill Airey | Mr. Charles Bibby |
| Two Maids. | |
| Villagers and Others. |
Scene: The Davis's Cottage.
Note: There is no attempt made in the play to reproduce exactly the Westmoreland dialect, which would be unintelligible to ears coming new to it, but only to catch the rough music of it and the slow inflection of northern voices.
Reprinted from "Four Plays," by permission of Mr. Gilbert Cannan.
MARY'S WEDDING
A Play
By Gilbert Cannan
[The scene is the living-room in the Davis's cottage in the hill country. An old room low in the ceiling. Ann Davis is at the table in the center of the room untying a parcel. The door opens to admit Tom Davis, a sturdy quarryman dressed in his best and wearing a large nosegay.]
Ann. Well, 'ast seed un?
Tom. Ay, a seed un. 'Im and 'is ugly face—
Ann [untying her parcel].'Tis 'er dress come just in time an' no more from the maker-up—
Tom. Ef she wouldna do it....
Ann. But 'tis such long years she's been a-waitin'.... 'Tis long years since she bought t' dress.
Tom. An' 'tis long years she'll be a livin' wi' what she's been waitin' for; 'tis long years she'll live to think ower it and watch the thing she's taken for her man, an' long years that she'll find 'un feedin' on 'er, an' a dreary round she'll 'ave of et....
Ann. Three times she 'ave come to a month of weddin' an' three times 'e 'ave broke loose and gone down to the Mortal Man an' the woman that keeps 'arf our men in drink.... 'Tis she is the wicked one, giving 'em score an' score again 'till they owe more than they can ever pay with a year's money.
Tom. 'Tis a fearful thing to drink....