Und Jetz Etwas Ganz Anders

As part of my on-going efforts to bring some scintilla of culture to you gutter-dwelling heathen, I now present to you Act 2, scene 3 of Ivan Turgenev’s A Month in the Country, as performed by the Royal Scottish Llamas.  Funding for this performance is in part from the generous donations of Steve and Robbo, who contributed the money they usually spend on brandy snifters, smoking jackets for the average Saturday evening.

 

The scene takes place in a drawing room, early in the morning.  Ysalev is seated at the desk, looking through papers.  After some time, he gives up, rises and walks to the window.  Matvei enters from the study, carrying a duster.

Matvei:  You rang, sir?

Ysalev:  Yes — er — send the bailiff to me, will you? –

Matvei:  Very good, sir.  [Going, then remembering something.]  Oh, excuse me,sir –

Ysalev:  Yes?

Matvei:  The workmen digging at the dam –

Ysalev:  What about them?

Matvei:  They’re waiting to know what they are to do now.

Ysalev:  Oh.  Tell them I shan’t be a moment — say I’ve been delayed.

Matvei:  Very good sir.

Ysalev:  Is Monsieur Ratikin in the house?

Matvei:  I just saw him in the billiard room, sir.

Ysalev:  Ask him if he would be so good as to take a glass of wine with me in here.

Matvei:  Yes sir. 

[He bows and goes into the ballroom, nearly running into Anna Semyenova as she enters from the hall; she is in breakfast toilette and carries a cup of chocolate and a card-box.  She is in a genuine state of agitation, but appears determined to let everyone know it.  She looks at Ysalev, who does not stir.  She looks at letters on occasional table behind sofa, moves across and deposits the card-box on the table; he looks up quickly, sees her and goes back to his papers.  She sighs explosively, and sits on the stool; he still pays no attention to her.]

Anna:  Arkasha –

Ysalev [turning]:  Oh, Mamma – I didn’t see you — [Rising, crossing, and kissing her on the brow mechanically.]  How are we this morning?

Anna:  Well, the Lord be thanked.

Ysalev:  Good.  [He returns to his paper.]

Anna [with a deep sigh]:  As well as can be expected — Matters might be worse –

[Seeing that  he takes no notice, she draws a deeper breath, almost a sob.  He turns to her.]

Ysalev:  Were you sighing, Mamma?

Anna:  Arkady Sergheich Ysalev,  I am your mother.

Ysalev [back to his papers]:  Really, Mamma, that’s no news to me –

Anna:  You’re a great big man, Arkasha, grown up to Adam’s estate — but I am the one who dangled you on my knee.  It’s a wonderful word, “Mother.”

Ysalev:  Mamma, please do explain what you’re hinting at –

Anna:  My dear, you know perfectly well.  Arkasha, you married an excellent wife –

Ysalev [spitting foul liquid all over the floor]:  Yip!  Yip!

Anna:  Whose conduct up till now has been beyond reproach –

Ysalev [trying to bite Anna]: Yip!  Orgle orgle!

Anna [spitting near where Ysalev just spit]:  Yip yip!  Orgle, orgle!  Jane Austen!

Ysalev [Still spitting.  The floor is getting too covered in the vile stuff for either Ysalev or Anna to stand up properly]: Yip!  Sir Edmund Burke!  Gratuitous domestic posting!  Yip!

Anna [still spitting.  Criminy, don't these things ever run out of saliva?]:  Yip!

[Two llama handlers rush onto the stage and try to get the increasingly agitated llamas back into character.  They quickly realize that all sense of decorum has been irretrievably lost, and they must cut their losses.]

Exeunt all.