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"Well, well," said Sasha, not yet grasping what was meant. "That's all right . . . that's good." "I am sick of this life," Nadya went on. "I can't endure another day here. To-morrow I am going away. Take me with you for God's sake!" For a minute Sasha looked at her in astonishment; at last he understood and was delighted as a child.
Of others we are left to guess even the conclusion of the main action: will Nádya in "A Protégée" submit to her degrading fate, or will she seek refuge in the pond? Ostróvsky rarely uses the drama to treat of great moral or social problems.
She takes his hand and holds it. NÁDYA. And now let's sit this way and talk. LEONÍD. What are we going to talk about? I shall say only one thing to you: I love you. NÁDYA. You will say it, and I shall listen. LEONÍD. You'll get tired of one and the same thing. NÁDYA. Maybe you'll get tired of it; I never shall. LEONÍD. Then let me speak. NÁDYA. Why do you do that?
He says this, brandishing his fists and rolling his eyes. . . . Then he goes into the bedroom and wakes his wife. "Nadya," he says, "I am sitting down to write. . . . Please don't let anyone interrupt me.
He always spent a long time over tea in the Moscow style, drinking as much as seven glasses at a time. For a long time after Nadya had undressed and gone to bed she could hear the servants clearing away downstairs and Granny talking angrily. At last everything was hushed, and nothing could be heard but Sasha from time to time coughing on a bass note in his room below.
He's dancing in the garden now, drunk. MADAM ULANBÉKOV. Drunk, in my house! LEONÍD. If you want, I'll invite him in. Potápych, call NEGLIGÉNTOV! He said that you were at his uncle's to-day, and that you promised to give him Nádya. Already he's reckoning, in anticipation, how much income he will get in the court, or "savings," as he says. What a funny fellow!
"It's a-all right," said Sasha, smiling. "It's a-all right." Autumn had passed and winter, too, had gone. Nadya had begun to be very homesick and thought every day of her mother and her grandmother; she thought of Sasha too. The letters that came from home were kind and gentle, and it seemed as though everything by now were forgiven and forgotten.
NÁDYA. But when they say to you: "Pack off to this drunkard, and don't you dare argue, and don't you dare cry over yourself!".... Oh, Líza!.... And then you think how that horrid man will make fun of you, will bully you, show his authority, will begin to ruin your life, all for nothing! LÍZA. Oh, Nádya; it would be better if you hadn't spoken, and I hadn't listened! NÁDYA. Stop, Líza!
LEONÍD. No, truly!.... Truly, no one has ever loved me. Honest to God.... NÁDYA. Don't swear; I believe you without it. LEONÍD. Let's go sit down on the bench. LEONÍD. Why do you tremble so? NÁDYA. Am I trembling? LEONÍD. You are. NÁDYA. Then, it must be that I feel a bit chilly. LEONÍD. Just let me wrap you up. He covers her with one side of his cloak, embracing her as he holds it around her.
Everything was lighted up by the spring sunshine as by a smile. Soon the whole garden, warm and caressed by the sun, returned to life, and dewdrops like diamonds glittered on the leaves and the old neglected garden on that morning looked young and gaily decked. Granny was already awake. Sasha's husky cough began. Nadya could hear them below, setting the samovar and moving the chairs.
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