Act 1 — SCENE 6. THE SAME AND SOPHIA

(Sophia enters holding a letter in her hand and looking cheerful.)

Mrs. Uncouth (to Sophia). Why so merry, dear? What has made you so happy?

Sophia. I have just received some joyful news. My uncle, of whom we have not heard for a long time, whom I love and honour like my father, arrived in Moscow a few days ago. This is the letter I have just received from him.

Mrs. Uncouth (frightened, angrily). What, Conservative, your uncle, is alive? And you think it right to jest about his resurrection? A fine story you have invented!

Sophia. Why, he never was dead.

Mrs. Uncouth. He did not die! Why could he not have died? No, madam, that is your invention. You are trying to frighten us with your uncle, that we might give you your liberty. You judge like this: “My uncle is a clever man; he seeing me in other people’s hands, will find a way of rescuing me.” That’s what you are happy about, madam. But your joy is all in vain: of course, your uncle has never thought of rising from the dead.

Beastly. Sister, but if he never died?

Uncouth. God be merciful to us, if he did not die.

Mrs. Uncouth (to her husband). How not dead? You are talking nonsense. Don’t you know that I have had people remember him in their prayers for the rest of his soul? Is it possible my humble prayers have never reached heaven? (To Sophia.) You let me have that letter! (Almost tears it out of her hand.) I will wager anything that it is some love letter, and I can guess from whom. It’s from that officer that was trying to marry you, and whom you were ready to marry yourself. Who is that rascal that dares hand you letters without telling me first about them? I’ll get at him! That’s what we have come to: they write letters to girls! And girls know how to read!

Sophia. Read it yourself, madam: you will see that there can be nothing more harmless than that letter.

Mrs. Uncouth. “Read it yourself!” No, madam! Thank the Lord, I have not been educated that way! I may receive letters, but I order others to read them to me. (To her husband.) Read it!

Uncouth (looking at it for sometime). It’s more than I can read.

Mrs. Uncouth. I see, they have educated you like a fair maiden. Brother, be so kind as to read it.

Beastly. I? I have never read a line since I was born! God has saved me that annoyance.

Sophia. Let me read it to you.

Mrs. Uncouth. I know you will read it, but I don’t trust you. There! Mitrofán’s teacher will soon be here, so I’ll tell him——

Beastly. So you have begun to teach your son reading?

Mrs. Uncouth. Oh, my brother! He has been studying these four years. It shall not be laid to our door that we are not giving Mitrofán an education: we pay three teachers for it. The deacon from Pokróv, Carouse, comes to him for reading and writing. Arikmethick he studies with an ex-sergeant, Cipher. They both come from town, which is only two miles from us. French and all the sciences he takes from a German, Adam Adámych Bluster. He gets three hundred roubles a year. We let him eat at table with us; our peasant women wash his linen; if he has to travel anywhere, he gets our horses; at the table he always has a glass of wine, and at night a tallow candle, and Fomká fixes his wig for nothing. To tell the truth, we are satisfied with him, for he does not drive our child. I don’t see, anyway, why we should not fondle Mitrofán as long as he is a minor. He will have to suffer enough some ten years hence, when serving the Government. You know, brother, some people have luck from their birth. Take our family of Uncouths: they get all kinds of advancements while lying softly on their sides. With what is our Mitrofán worse than they? Ah, there is our dear guest.