oo; you'd go to St. Petersburg--and
I'd follow you.

BABAYEV. I asked you to come with me.

TATYANA. It's all right for you. You're a free man, while I'm no better
than a captive. That's my trouble. I've thought more than once how I could
run away to you.

BABAYEV. That's good.

TATYANA. Just think how unfortunate my life is: in order to have a little
pleasure I have to deceive my husband. It's all deceit and deceit! But
what's the use of deceiving? It disgusts me; it's not in my character. If
my husband guessed that I didn't love him, then he'd kill me with scolding
and reproaches. I very well understand that I can't be a real wife to him,
and that I'm not wanted by his family; and they'd rather I were anywhere
else; but who can I explain that to, who'd understand it! Just see how
rough and stern they are, and I'm not used to sternness. What a life, when
there's no freedom!

BABAYEV. Tanya, I'll tell you what to do! Tell him outright that you don't
want to live with him. You and your sister rent a house, and I'll send you
the money.

TATYANA. That's impossible. Not to be thought of! Do you think he'd let me
go? He doesn't care if I die--so long as I'm with him--before his eyes. It
would be better for me to leave quietly.

BABAYEV. Very well, leave quietly.

TATYANA. Really, I don't know. We're all brave when it's a matter of words,
but when it comes to action, then you lose your reason, especially such as
I. Do as you wish. I'll do as you advise me. If you love me, you won't want
to cause my ruin.

BABAYEV. Of course not.

TATYANA. They're right when they say that all women are insane; I married
of my own accord--nobody forced me--so now I ought to live according to my
vows; but I'm drawn to you, and want to escape from my home. It's all your
fault, Valentin Pavlich; home has become disgusting to me because of you.
If it weren't for you, I'd manage to live somehow with my husband; at least
I shouldn't know this sorrow.

BABAYEV. A fine life! You have much to regret!

TATYANA. But is my life agreeable now? Of course I ought not to blame you
much, because I'm entirely to blame myself. You have nothing to worry
about! Yours is a man's affair, and no one will condemn you; but we have
to suffer for every single thing. But what's to be done! It's too late to
argue who's in the right and who's to blame; but I guess this affair had to
happen. But don't you deceive me; come back!

BABAYEV. Oh, stop; what do you