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throw myself under the train you leave by; and let them all go to
perdition--and Missy and Kátya too. Oh my God, my God. What torture!
Why? What for? [Weeps].
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH [at the door] Alexander Petróvich, go home! I am not
going. [To his wife] Very well, I will stay. [Takes off his overcoat].
MARY IVÁNOVNA [embracing him] We have not much longer to live. Don't let
us spoil everything after twenty-eight years of life together. Well,
I'll give no more parties; but do not punish me so.
Enter Ványa and Kátya running.
VÁNYA and KATYA. Mamma, be quick--come.
MARY IVÁNOVNA. Coming, coming. So let us forgive one another! [Exit with
Kátya and Ványa].
NICHOLAS IVÁNOVICH. A child, a regular child; or a cunning woman? No, a
cunning child. Yes, yes. It seems Thou dost not wish me to be Thy
servant in this Thy work. Thou wishest me to be humiliated, so that
everyone may point his finger at me and say, "He preaches, but he does
not perform." Well, let them! Thou knowest best what Thou requirest:
submission, humility! Ah, if I could but rise to that height!
Enter Lisa.
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