Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Power of Darkness by graf Tolstoy Leo (inspiring books for teens .txt) 📖
- Author: graf Tolstoy Leo
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ANĂŤSYA. Drat you, littering the table!
NIKĂŤTA. You look here!
ANĂŤSYA. What am I to look at? Have I never seen anything? Put it away! [Sweeps the shawl on to the floor with her arm].
AKOULĂŤNA. What are you pitching things down for? You pitch your own things about! [Picks up the shawl].
NIKĂŤTA. AnĂsya! Look here!
ANĂŤSYA. Why am I to look?
NIKĂŤTA. You think I have forgotten you? Look here! [Shows her a parcel and sits down on it] It's a present for you. Only you must earn it! Wife, where am I sitting?
ANĂŤSYA. Enough of your humbug. I'm not afraid of you. Whose money are you spreeing on and buying your fat wench presents with? Mine!
AKOULĂŤNA. Yours indeed? No fear! You wished to steal it, but it did not come off! Get out of the way! [Pushes her while trying to pass].
ANĂŤSYA. What are you shoving for? I'll teach you to shove!
AKOULĂŤNA. Shove me? You try! [Presses against AnĂsya].
NIKĂŤTA. Now then, now then, you women. Have done now! [Steps between them].
AKOULĂŤNA. Comes shoving herself in! You ought to keep quiet and remember your doings! You think no one knows!
ANĂŤSYA. Knows what? Out with it, out with it! What do they know?
AKOULĂŤNA. I know something about you!
ANĂŤSYA. You're a slut who goes with another's husband!
AKOULĂŤNA. And you did yours to death!
ANĂŤSYA [throwing herself on AkoulĂna] You're raving!
NIKĂŤTA [holding her back] AnĂsya, you seem to have forgotten!
ANĂŤSYA. Want to frighten me! I'm not afraid of you!
NIKĂŤTA [turns AnĂsya round and pushes her out] Be off!
ANĂŤSYA. Where am I to go? I'll not go out of my own house!
NIKĂŤTA. Be off, I tell you, and don't dare to come in here!
ANĂŤSYA. I won't go! [NikĂta pushes her, AnĂsya cries and screams and clings to the door] What! am I to be turned out of my own house by the scruff of the neck? What are you doing, you scoundrel? Do you think there's no law for you? You wait a bit!
NIKĂŤTA. Now then!
ANĂŤSYA. I'll go to the Elder! To the policeman!
NIKĂŤTA. Off, I tell you! [Pushes her out].
ANĂŤSYA [behind the door] I'll hang myself!
NIKĂŤTA. No fear!
NAN. Oh, oh, oh! Mother, dear, darling! [Cries].
NIKÍTA. Me frightened of her! A likely thing! What are you crying for? She'll come back, no fear. Go and see to the samovár. [Exit Nan].
AKOULĂŤNA [collects and folds her presents] The mean wretch, how she's messed it up. But wait a bit, I'll cut up her jacket for her! Sure I will!
NIKĂŤTA. I've turned her out, what more do you want?
AKOULĂŤNA. She's dirtied my new shawl. If that bitch hadn't gone away, I'd have torn her eyes out!
NIKÍTA. That's enough. Why should you be angry? Now if I loved her …
AKOULĂŤNA. Loved her? She's worth loving, with her fat mug! If you'd have given her up, then nothing would have happened. You should have sent her to the devil. And the house was mine all the same, and the money was mine! Says she is the mistress, but what sort of mistress is she to her husband? She's a murderess, that's what she is! She'll serve you the same way!
NIKĂŤTA. Oh dear, how's one to stop a woman's jaw? You don't yourself know what you're jabbering about!
AKOULÍNA. Yes, I do. I'll not live with her! I'll turn her out of the house! She can't live here with me. The mistress indeed! She's not the mistress,—that jailbird!
NIKĂŤTA. That's enough! What have you to do with her? Don't mind her. You look at me! I am the master! I do as I like. I've ceased to love her, and now I love you. I love who I like! The power is mine, she's under me. That's where I keep her. [Points to his feet] A pity we've no concertina. [Sings].
We have porridge on the shelf.
So we'll live and be gay,
Making merry every day,
And when death comes,
Then we'll die!
We have loaves on the stoves,
We have porridge on the shelf …”
Enter MĂtritch. He takes off his outdoor things and climbs on the oven.
MĂŤTRITCH. Seems the women have been fighting again! Tearing each other's hair. Oh Lord, gracious Nicholas!
AKĂŤM [sitting on the edge of the oven, takes his leg-bands and shoes and begins putting them on] Get in, get into the corner.
MĂŤTRITCH. Seems they can't settle matters between them. Oh Lord!
NIKĂŤTA. Get out the liquor, we'll have some with our tea.
NAN [to AkoulĂna] Sister, the samovár is just boiling over.
NIKĂŤTA. And where's your mother?
NAN. She's standing and crying out there in the passage.
NIKĂŤTA. Oh, that's it! Call her, and tell her to bring the samovár. And you, AkoulĂna, get the tea things.
AKOULĂŤNA. The tea things? All right. [Brings the things].
NIKÍTA [unpacks spirits, rusks, and salt herrings] That's for myself. This is yarn for the wife. The paraffin is out there in the passage, and here's the money. Wait a bit, [takes a counting-frame] I'll add it up. [Adds] Wheat-flour, 80 kopéykas, oil … Father, 10 roubles.… Father, come let's have some tea!
Silence. AkĂm sits on the oven and winds the bands round his legs. Enter AnĂsya with samovár.
ANĂŤSYA. Where shall I put it?
NIKĂŤTA. Here on the table. Well! have you been to the Elder? Ah, that's it! Have your say and then eat your words. Now then, that's enough. Don't be cross, sit down and drink this. [Fills a wine-glass for her] And here's your present. [Gives her the parcel he had been sitting on. AnĂsya takes it silently and shakes her head].
AKĂŤM [gets down and puts on his sheepskin, then comes up to the table and puts down the money] Here, take your money back! Put it away.
NIKĂŤTA [does not see the money] Why have you put on your things?
AKĂŤM. I'm going, going I mean; forgive me for the Lord's sake. [Takes up his cap and belt].
NIKĂŤTA. My gracious! Where are you going to at this time of night?
AKĂŤM. I can't, I mean what d'ye call 'em, in your house, what d'ye call 'em, can't stay I mean, stay, can't stay, forgive me.
NIKĂŤTA. But are you going without having any tea?
AKĂŤM [fastens his belt] Going, because, I mean, it's not right in your house, I mean, what d'you call it, not right, NikĂta, in the house, what d'ye call it, not right! I mean, you are living a bad life, NikĂta, bad,—I'll go.
NIKĂŤTA. Eh now! Have done talking! Sit down and drink your tea!
ANĂŤSYA. Why, father, you'll shame us before the neighbours. What has offended you?
AKĂŤM. Nothing what d'ye call it, nothing has offended me, nothing at all! I mean only, I see, what d'you call it, I mean, I see my son, to ruin I mean, to ruin, I mean my son's on the road to ruin, I mean.
NIKĂŤTA. What ruin? Just prove it!
AKĂŤM. Ruin, ruin; you're in the midst of it! What did I tell you that time?
NIKĂŤTA. You said all sorts of things!
AKĂŤM. I told you, what d'ye call it, I told you about the orphan lass. That you had wronged an orphan—MarĂna, I mean, wronged her!
NIKÍTA. Eh! he's at it again. Let bygones be bygones … All that's past!
AKĂŤM [excited] Past! No, lad, it's not past. Sin, I mean, fastens on to sin—drags sin after it, and you've stuck fast, NikĂta, fast in sin! Stuck fast in sin! I see you're fast in sin. Stuck fast, sunk in sin, I mean!
NIKĂŤTA. Sit down and drink your tea, and have done with it!
AKĂŤM. I can't, I mean can't what d'ye call it, can't drink tea. Because of your filth, I mean; I feel what d'ye call it, I feel sick, very sick! I can't what d'ye call it, I can't drink tea with you.
NIKĂŤTA. Eh! There he goes rambling! Come to the table.
AKĂŤM. You're in your riches same as in a net—you're in a net, I mean. Ah, NikĂta, it's the soul that God needs!
NIKĂŤTA. Now really, what right have you to reprove me in my own house? Why do you keep on at me? Am I a child that you can pull by the hair? Nowadays those things have been dropped!
AKĂŤM. That's true. I have heard that nowadays, what d'ye call it, that nowadays children pull their fathers' beards, I mean! But that's ruin, that's ruin, I mean!
NIKĂŤTA [angrily] We are living without help from you, and it's you who came to us with your wants!
AKĂŤM. The money? There's your money! I'll go begging, begging I mean, before I'll take it, I mean.
NIKĂŤTA. That's enough! Why be angry and upset the whole company! [Holds him by the arm].
AKĂŤM [shrieks] Let go! I'll not stay. I'd rather sleep under some fence than in the midst of your filth! Faugh! God forgive me! [Exit].
NIKĂŤTA. Here's a go!
AKĂŤM [reopens the door] Come to your senses, NikĂta! It's the soul that God wants! [Exit].
AKOULĂŤNA [takes cups] Well, shall I pour out the tea? [Takes a cup. All are silent].
MĂŤTRITCH [roars] Oh Lord, be merciful to me a sinner! [All start].
NIKĂŤTA [lies down on the bench] Oh, it's dull, it's dull! [To AkoulĂna] Where's the concertina?
AKOULĂŤNA. The concertina? He's bethought himself of it. Why, you took it to be mended. I've poured out your tea. Drink it!
NIKÍTA. I don't want it! Put out the light … Oh, how dull I feel, how dull! [Sobs].
Curtain.
Autumn. Evening. The moon is shining. The stage represents the interior of courtyard. The scenery at the back shows, in the middle, the back porch of the hut. To the right the winter half of the hut and the gate; to the left the summer half and the cellar. To the right of the stage is a shed. The sound of tipsy voices and shouts are heard from the hut.[5] Second Neighbour Woman comes out of the hut and beckons to First Neighbour Woman.
SECOND NEIGHBOUR. How's it AkoulĂna has not shown herself?
FIRST NEIGHBOUR. Why hasn't she shown herself? She'd have been glad to; but she's too ill, you know. The suitor's relatives have come, and want to see the girl; and she, my dear, she's lying in the cold hut and can't come out, poor thing!
SECOND NEIGHBOUR. But how's that?
FIRST NEIGHBOUR. They say she's been bewitched by an evil eye! She's got pains in the stomach!
SECOND NEIGHBOUR. You don't say so?
FIRST NEIGHBOUR. What else could it be? [Whispers].
SECOND NEIGHBOUR. Dear me! There's a go! But his relatives will surely find it out?
FIRST NEIGHBOUR. They find it out! They're all drunk! Besides, they are chiefly after her dowry. Just think what they give with the girl! Two furs, my dear, six dresses, a French shawl, and I don't know how many pieces of linen, and money as well,—two hundred roubles, it's said!
SECOND NEIGHBOUR. That's all very well, but even money can't give much pleasure in the face of such a disgrace.
FIRST NEIGHBOUR. Hush!… There's his father, I think.
They cease talking, and go into the hut.
The Suitor's Father comes out of the hut hiccoughing.
THE FATHER. Oh, I'm all in a sweat. It's awfully hot! Will just cool myself a bit. [Stands puffing] The Lord only knows what—something is not right.
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