A monologue from the play by Alexander Ostrovsky
NOTE: This translation by George Rapall Noyes was first published in 1917 by Charles Scribner's Sons, New York. It is now a public domain work and may be performed without royalties.

LUKERYA: Considering the type, he's a very nice man, and he loves sister very dearly. Yet there is something so inherently bad about his calling that, judge as you will, he's still not very far removed from a peasant. That trait of character, if you boil a man for seven years in a kettle, you cannot boil out. Yet I must give him credit for taking good care of his house. He doesn't give himself any rest day or night; he toils hard all the time. As for my sister, he's willing to give her whatever her heart desires, even his last kopek, just to please her, so that she does absolutely nothing, and lives like a lady. But his manners are boorish, and his conversation embarrasses us very much. Altogether this is not the kind of happiness I wished for Tanya. Judging by her beauty and the standing of her former admirers, she should now be riding in a carriage. As it is, necessity has forced her to marry a peasant, almost for a crust of bread, and to blush for him whenever she sees anybody.


I must hurry home now. I have to attend to some matters with sister. Shall I extend your greetings? Why don't you invite sister and me to call on you? If you wish to see her, where's the obstacle? She isn't a princess imprisoned behind ten locks. You'll go for a walk, no doubt, as you can't remain in your room. You needn't go far. Stroll out of the rear gate of the river-bank, sit down on the bench and enjoy the beauty of nature. It's a quiet, secluded place; few people ever go there. It's a most delightful walk for sentimental young people. Sister and I will go that way, and there you may be able to see her.


Good day.

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