KULIGIN (sitting on a bench).

KABANOV (walking along the parade).

KULIGIN (sings). "In dark of night are hid the skies In sleep now all have closed their eyes."

(seeing Kabanov) Good-evening, sir, are you walking far?

KABANOV. No, I am going home. You have heard talk, I expect, about us? The whole household's upside down.

KULIGIN. I have heard so, sir, yes, I have heard so.

KABANOV. I went away to Moscow, you know. Mamma sent me off with a sermon, oh, such a sermon, but as soon as I was well away, I went in for enjoying myself. I was glad to have escaped into freedom. And I was drinking all the journey, and in Moscow too I kept it up, and had a jolly time—as you may fancy! Of course I'd to get in fun enough to last me the whole year. I never once thought about home. Though, if I had thought of it, I never should have dreamed of what was going on here. You've heard about it?

KULIGIN. Yes, sir.

KABANOV. I'm a miserable man now! And so, for nothing, my life's spoiled, for nothing I have done.

KULIGIN. Your mother is terribly hard.

KABANOV. Yes, indeed, she's the cause of it all. And what am I suffering for, tell me that? Here I've just come from Dikoy's, and well, we drank a bit; I thought it would drown care; but it has only made me worse, Kuligin! Ah, the wrong my wife has done me! It couldn't be worse....

KULIGIN. It's a difficult business, sir. It's difficult to judge between you.

KABANOV. No; nothing could be worse than what she's done! It wouldn't be much to kill her for it. There's mamma keeps saying: she ought to be buried alive to punish her! But I love her, I can't bear to lay a finger on her. I did give her a blow or two, but that was at mamma's bidding. It makes one wretched to see her, do you understand that, Kuligin. Mamma's just tormenting her to death, while she wanders about like a shadow, and makes no resistance. She only weeps, and she's wasting away like wax. It's simply breaking my heart to see her.

KULIGIN. You must make it up somehow, sir! You ought to forgive her, and never refer to it again. You are not without sin yourself, I daresay!

KABANOV. I should think not!

KULIGIN. And you must never reproach her even when you're drunk! She would be a good wife to you yet, sir, better than any—believe me.

KABANOV. But understand me, Kuligin; I'd never say a word, but mamma ... do you suppose one can get over her!...

KULIGIN. It's time you were guided, sir, by your own good sense, sir.

KABANOV. My own good sense! I've got none, I'm told, and so I'm to live by other people's! I declare I'll drink away whatever sense I have left, and then mamma can look after me as much as she likes, when I'm crazy.

KULIGIN. Ah sir! there's a world of troubles! But, Boris Grigoritch, sir, what of him?

KABANOV. Oh, he, the scoundrel, is being sent off to Tiahta, to the Chinese. His uncle's sending him off to a merchant he knows there. He's to be there three years.

KULIGIN. Well, what does he say to it, sir?

KABANOV. Oh, he's wretched too; he weeps. His uncle and I, we set upon him not long ago, we swore at him—he didn't say a word. He seems like a wild thing. Do what you like to me, says he, only don't torment her! He's sorry for her too.

KULIGIN. He's a good fellow, sir.

KABANOV. He's packed up and ready, and the horses are ordered. He's so wretched, it's awful! I can see he wants to say good-bye to her. But that's too much! I can't have it. He's been an enemy to me, you know, Kuligin! He ought to be thrashed within an inch of his life to teach him ...

KULIGIN. We must forgive our enemies, sir!

KABANOV. You go and tell that to mamma, and see what she'll say to it. So, brother Kuligin, all our family is now split up and divided. We're not like relations but enemies to one another. Mamma kept nagging and nagging at Varvara; she couldn't stand it, and she soon made an end of it—she's simply gone away.

KULIGIN. Where has she gone?

KABANOV. No one knows. They do say she's run off with Vania Kudriash, and he can't be found anywhere either. It's all mamma's doing. I'll tell you frankly, Kuligin: she had started bullying her and locking her up. "Don't shut me up," she said, "or it will be the worse," and so it has turned out. What am I to do, tell me that! Tell me how I am to live now! My home is made loathsome to me, I'm put to shame before everyone, if I set about anything my hands drop listless and dejected. Here I'm on my way home now. Shall I find any happiness there, do you suppose? [Enter Glasha.

GLASHA. Master, Tihon Ivanitch!

KABANOV. What is it now?

GLASHA. There's something wrong at home, sir!

KABANOV. Mercy on us! It's one thing on top of another! Tell me, what is it?

GLASHA. Why, your good lady....

KABANOV. Well, what? Is she dead?

GLASHA. No, sir, she has disappeared; we can't find her anywhere.

KABANOV. Kuligin! we must run and search for her. Do you know what I am afraid of? That she may be driven in her misery to lay hands on herself! She grieves and grieves,—ah, God! It rends my heart to see her. What were you thinking of? Has she been gone long?

GLASHA. No, sir, not long! It's we're to blame, of course; we didn't keep an eye on her every minute. Though it's true, to be sure, the most watchful will be caught napping sooner or later.

KABANOV. Well, don't stand there doing nothing; bestir yourself! (Exit Glasha.) And let us go too, Kuligin!

[They go. The stage is empty for a little while. From the opposite side, Katerina enters and walks slowly about the stage.