Reseña del libro "Fruits of Culture: A Comedy in Four Acts (en Inglés)"
Extract: FRUITS OF CULTURE ACT I The entrance hall of a wealthy house in Moscow. There are three doors: the front door, the door of Leoníd Fyódoritch's study, and the door of Vasíly Leoníditch's room. A staircase leads up to the other rooms; behind it is another door leading to the servants' quarters. Scene 1. GREGORY [looks at himself in the glass and arranges his hair, &c.] I am sorry about those moustaches of mine! “Moustaches are not becoming to a footman,” she says! And why? Why, so that any one might see you're a footman,—else my looks might put her darling son to shame. He's a likely one! There's not much fear of his coming anywhere near me, moustaches or no moustaches! [Smiling into the glass] And what a lot of 'em swarm round me. And yet I don't care for any of them as much as for that Tánya. And she only a lady's-maid! Ah well, she's nicer than any young lady. [Smiles] She is a duck! [Listening] Ah, here she comes. [Smiles] Yes, that's her, clattering with her little heels. Oh! Enter Tánya, carrying a cloak and boots. GREGORY. My respects to you, Tatyána Márkovna. TÁNYA. What are you always looking in the glass for? Do you think yourself so good-looking? GREGORY. Well, and are my looks not agreeable? TÁNYA. So, so; neither agreeable nor disagreeable, but just betwixt and between! Why are all those cloaks hanging there? GREGORY. I am just going to put them away, your ladyship! [Takes down a fur cloak and, wrapping it round her, embraces her] I say, Tánya, I'll tell you something … TÁNYA. Oh, get away, do! What do you mean by it? [Pulls herself angrily away] Leave me alone, I tell you! GREGORY [looks cautiously around] Then give me a kiss! TÁNYA. Now, really, what are you bothering for? I'll give you such a kiss! [Raises her hand to strike]. VASÍLY LEONÍDITCH [off the scene, rings and then shouts] Gregory! TÁNYA. There now, go! Vasíly Leoníditch is calling you. GREGORY. He'll wait! He's only just opened his eyes! I say, why don't you love me? TÁNYA. What sort of loving have you imagined now? I don't love anybody. GREGORY. That's a fib. You love Simon! You have found a nice one to love—a common, dirty-pawed peasant, a butler's assistant! TÁNYA. Never mind; such as he is, you are jealous of him! VASÍLY LEONÍDITCH [off the scene] Gregory! GREGORY. All in good time.…
