FRIAR

I'm sorry. Well then, let's go into the woods and knock down the dry branches of trees. It's fine sport to walk about in the forest and knock off the branches with a stick. And when you shout "Ho-ho-ho!"

the echo from the ravine answers back "Ho-ho-ho!" Do you like swimming?

SAVVA

Yes, I like it. I am a good swimmer.

FRIAR

I like it too.

SPERANSKY _(with a deep sigh)_

Yes, it's a strange condition.

SAVVA _(smiling at the Friar)_

Eh? Well, how are you now?

SPERANSKY

When my uncle took me to his house, he made me promise I would never attempt suicide again. That was the only condition oh which he would consent to let me live with him. "All right," I said; "if we really exist, then I won't make any further attempt to hang myself."

SAVVA

Why do you want to know whether you exist or not? There is the sky. Look, how beautiful it is. There are the swallows and the sweet-scented gra.s.s. It's fine! _(To the Friar)_ Fine, isn't it, Va.s.sya?

FRIAR

Mr. Savva, do you like to tear up ant-hills?

SAVVA

I don't know. I never tried.

FRIAR

I like it. Do you like to fly kites?

SAVVA

It's a long time since I tried to. I used to like it very much.

SPERANSKY _(patiently awaiting the end of their conversation)_

Swallows! What good is their flying to me? Anyhow, maybe swallows don't exist either, and it's all a dream.

SAVVA

Suppose it is a dream. Dreams are very beautiful sometimes, you know.

SPERANSKY

I should like to wake up, but I can't. I wander around and wander around until I am weary and feeble, and when I rouse myself I find I am here, in the very same place. There is the monastery and the belfry, and the clock strikes the hour. And it's all like a dream, a fantasy. You close your eyes, and it does not exist. You open them, and it's there again. Sometimes I go out into the fields at night and close my eyes, and then it seems to me there is nothing at all existing. Suddenly the quail begin to call, and a wagon rolls down the road. Again a dream. For if you stopped up your ears, you wouldn't hear those sounds. When I die, everything will grow silent, and then it will be true. Only the dead know the truth, Mr. Savva.

FRIAR _(smiling, cautiously waving his hands at a bird; in a whisper)_ It's time to go to bed, time to go to bed.

SAVVA _(impatiently)_

What dead? Listen, my dear sir. I have a plain, simple, peasant mind, and I don't understand those subtleties. What dead are you talking about?

SPERANSKY

About all the dead, every one without exception. That's why the faces of the dead are so serene. Whatever agonies a man may have suffered before his death, the moment he dies his face becomes serene. That's because he has learned the truth. I always come here to attend the funerals. It's astonishing. There was a woman buried here. She had died of grief because her husband was crushed under a locomotive. You can imagine what must have been going on in her mind before her death.

It's too horrible to think of. Yet she lay there, in the coffin, absolutely serene and calm. That's because she had come to know that her grief was nothing but a dream, a mere phantom. I like the dead, Mr. Savva. I think the dead really exist.

SAVVA

I don't like the dead. _(Impatiently)_ You are a very disagreeable fellow. Has anybody ever told you that?

SPERANSKY

Yes, I have, heard it before.

SAVVA

I would never have taken you out of the noose. What d.a.m.n fool did it anyway?

SPERANSKY

The first time it was the Father Steward, the next time my cla.s.smates.

I am very sorry you disapprove of me, Mr. Tropinin. As you are an educated man, I should have liked to show you a bit of writing I did while I was in the seminary. It's called "The Tramp of Death." It's a sort of story.

SAVVA

No, spare me, please. Altogether I wish you'd--

FRIAR. _(rising)_

There comes Father Kirill. I had better beat it.

SAVVA

Why?

FRIAR

He came across me in the forest the other day when I was-shouting "Ho!