The room of the examining magistrate, who sits at a table talking to MÉLNIKOV, a smartly dressed, languid, man-about-town.

At a side-table a CLERK is sorting papers.

Magistrate. (sitting R. of table R. C.). Oh, I never said so. It’s her own notion. And now she is reproaching me with it.

Mélnikov. (sitting C. back to audience). She’s not reproaching you, only her feelings are awfully hurt.

Magistrate. Are they? Oh, well, tell her I’ll come to supper after the performance. But you’d better wait on. I’ve rather an interesting case. (To the CLERK.) Here, you, show them in.

Clerk. (sitting C. facing audience). Both? Excellency. Magistrate. No, only Madame Karénina.

[CLERK exits L. I.

Clerk (calling off stage). Madame Protosova, Madame Protosova.

Magistrate. Or, to dot my i’s, Madame Protosova.

Mélnikov (starting to go out). Ah, it’s the Karénin case.

Magistrate. Yes, and an ugly one. I’m just beginning the investigation. But I assure you it’s a first-rate scandal already. Must you go? Well, see you at supper. Good-bye.

[Exit MÉLNIKOV, R.

[The CLERK shows in LISA; she wears a black dress and veil.

Magistrate. Please sit down, won’t you? (He points to a chair L. C. LISA sits down.) I am extremely sorry that it’s necessary to ask you questions.

[LISA appears very much agitated. MAGISTRATE appears unconcerned and is reading a newspaper as he speaks.

But please be calm. You needn’t answer them unless you wish. Only in the interest of every one concerned, I advise you to help me reach the entire truth.

Lisa. I’ve nothing to conceal.

Magistrate (looking at papers). Let’s see. Your name, station, religion. I’ve got all that. You are accused of contracting a marriage with another man, knowing your first husband to be alive.

Lisa. But I did not know it.

Magistrate (continuing). And also you are accused of having persuaded with bribes your first husband to commit a fraud, a pretended suicide, in order to rid yourself of him.

Lisa. All that’s not true.

Magistrate. Then permit me to ask you these questions: Did you or did you not send him 1200 rubles in July of last year?

Lisa. That was his own money obtained from selling his things, which I sent to him during our separation, while I was waiting for my divorce.

Magistrate. Just so. Very well. When the police asked you to identify the corpse, how were you sure it was your husband’s?

Lisa. Oh, I was so terribly distressed that I couldn’t bear to look at the body. Besides, I felt so sure it was he, and when they asked me, I just said yes.

Magistrate. Very good indeed. I can well understand your distraction, and permit me to observe, Madame, that although servants of the law, we remain human beings, and I beg you to be assured that I sympathize with your situation. You were bound to a spendthrift, a drunkard, a man whose dissipation caused you infinite misery.

Lisa (interrupting). Please, I loved him.

Magistrate (tolerantly). Of course. Yet naturally you desired to be free, and you took this simple course without counting the consequence, which is considered a crime, or bigamy. I understand you, and so will both judges and jury. And it’s for this reason, Madam, I urge you to disclose the entire truth.

Lisa. I’ve nothing to disclose. I never have lied. (She begins to cry.) Do you want me any longer?

Magistrate. Yes. I must ask you to remain a few minutes longer. No more questions, however. (To the CLERK.) Show in Victor Karénin. (To LISA.) I think you’ll find that a comfortable chair. (Sits L. C.)

[Enter KARÉNIN, stern and solemn.

Please, sit down.

Karénin. Thank you. (He remains standing L. U.) What do you want from me?

Magistrate. I have to take your deposition.

Karénin. In what capacity?

Magistrate (smiling). In my capacity of investigating magistrate. You are here, you know, because you are charged with a crime.

Karénin. Really? What crime?

Magistrate. Bigamy, since you’ve married a woman already married. But I’ll put the questions to you in their proper order. Sure you’ll not sit down?

Karénin. Quite sure.

Magistrate (writing). Your name?

Karénin. Victor Karénin.

Magistrate. Rank?

Karénin. Chamberlain of the Imperial Court.

Magistrate. Your age?

Karénin. Thirty-eight.

Magistrate. Religion?

Karénin. Orthodox, and I’ve never been tried before of any charge. (Pause.) What else?

Magistrate. Did you know that Fedor Protosov was alive when you married his wife?

Karénin. No, we were both convinced that he was drowned.

Magistrate. All right. And why did you send 1200 rubles to him a few days before he simulated death on July 17^th?

Karénin. That money was given me by my wife.

Magistrate (interrupting him). Excuse me, you mean by Madame Protosova.

Karénin. By my wife to send to her husband. She considered this money his property, and having broken off all relations with him, felt it unjust to withhold it. What else do you want?

Magistrate. I don’t want anything, except to do my official duty, and to aid you in doing yours, through causing you to tell me the whole truth, in order that your innocence be proved. You’d certainly better not conceal things which are sure to be found out, since Protosov is in such a weakened condition, physically and mentally, that he is certain to come out with the entire truth as soon as he gets into court, so from your point of view I advise....

Karénin. Please don’t advise me, but remain within the limits of your official capacity. Are we at liberty to leave?

[He goes to LISA who takes his arm.

Magistrate. Sorry, but it’s necessary to detain you. (KARÉNIN looks around in astonishment.) No, I’ve no intention of arresting you, although it might be a quicker way of reaching the truth. I merely want to take Protosov’s deposition in your presence, to confront him with you, that you may facilitate your chances by proving his statements to be false. Kindly sit down. (To CLERK.) Show in Fedor Protosov.

[There is a pause. The CLERK shows in FÉDYA in rags, a total wreck. He enters slowly, dragging his feet. He catches sight of his wife, who is bowed in grief. For a moment he is about to take her in his arms—he hesitates--then stands before the MAGISTRATE.

Magistrate. I shall ask you to answer some questions.

Fédya. (rises, confronting the MAGISTRATE). Ask them.

Magistrate. Your name?

Fédya. You know it.

Magistrate. Answer my questions exactly, please.

[Rapping on his desk.

Fédya (shrugs). Fedor Protosov.

Magistrate. Your rank, age, religion?

Fédya. (silent for a moment). Aren’t you ashamed to ask me these absurd questions? Ask me what you need to know, only that.

Magistrate. I shall ask you to take care how you express yourself.

Fédya. Well, since you’re not ashamed. My rank, graduate of the University of Moscow; age 40; religion orthodox. What else?

Magistrate. Did Victor Karénin and Elizaveta Andreyevna know you were alive when you left your clothes on the bank of the river and disappeared?

Fédya. Of course not. I really wished to commit suicide. But—however, why should I tell you? The fact’s enough. They knew nothing of it.

Magistrate. You gave a somewhat different account to the police officer. How do you explain that?

Fédya. Which police officer? Oh yes, the one who arrested me in that dove. I was drunk, and I lied to him—about what, I don’t remember. But I’m not drunk now and I’m telling you the whole truth. They knew nothing; they thought I was dead, and I was glad of it. Everything would have stayed all right except for that damned beast Artimiev. So if any one’s guilty, it’s I.

Magistrate. I perceive you wish to be generous. Unfortunately the law demands the truth. Come, why did you receive money from them?

[FÉDYA is silent.

Why don’t you answer me? Do you realize that it will be stated in your deposition that the accused refused to answer these questions, and that will harm (he includes LISA and VICTOR in a gesture) all of you?

[FÉDYA remains silent.

Aren’t you ashamed of your stubborn refusal to aid these others and yourself by telling the entire truth?

Fédya (breaking out passionately). The truth—Oh, God! what do you know about the truth? Your business is crawling up into a little power, that you may use it by tantalizing, morally and physically, people a thousand times better than you.... You sit there in your smug authority torturing people.

Magistrate. I must ask you——

Fédya (interrupts him). Don’t ask me for I’ll speak as I feel. (Turning to CLERK.) And you write it down. So for once some human words will get into a deposition.

[Raising his voice, which ascends to a climax during this speech.

There were three human beings alive: I, he, and she.

[He turns to his wife with a gesture indicating his love for her. He pauses, then proceeds.

We all bore towards one another a most complex relation. We were all engaged in a spiritual struggle beyond your comprehension: the struggle between anguish and peace; between falsehood and truth. Suddenly this struggle ended in a way that set us free. Everybody was at peace. They loved my memory, and I was happy even in my downfall, because I’d done what should have been done, and cleared away my weak life from interfering with their strong good lives. And yet we’re all alive. When suddenly a bastard adventurer appears, who demands that I abet his filthy scheme. I drive him off as I would a diseased dog, but he finds you, the defender of public justice, the appointed guardian of morality, to listen to him. And you, who receive on the 20^th of each month a few kopecks’ gratuity for your wretched business, you get into your uniform, and in good spirits proceed to torture—bully people whose threshold you’re not clean enough to pass. Then when you’ve had your fill of showing off your wretched power, oh, then you are satisfied, and sit and smile there in your damned complacent dignity. And....

Magistrate (raising his voice. Rising excitedly). Be silent or I’ll have you turned out.

Fédya. God! Who should I be afraid of! I’m dead, dead, and away out of your power. (Suddenly overcome with the horror of the situation.) What can you do to me? How can you punish me—a corpse?

[Beating his breast.

Magistrate. Be silent! (To CLERK, who is down L.) Take him out!

[FÉDYA turns, seeing his wife, he falls on his knees before her ... kisses the hem of her dress, crying bitterly.

[Slowly he rises, pulls himself together with a great effort, then exits L.

[The lights dim and out.

CURTAIN

(Source: 1918 translation by Arthur Hopkins for the production at Plymouth Theatre, New York.)