ACT III
Library in Ivanoff’s house. On the walls hang maps, pictures, guns, pistols, sickles, whips, etc. A writing-table. On it lie in disorder knick-knacks, papers, books, parcels, and several revolvers. Near the papers stand a lamp, a decanter of vodka, and a plate of salted herrings. Pieces of bread and cucumber are scattered about. Shabelski and Lebedieff are sitting at the writing-table. Borkin is sitting astride a chair in the middle of the room. Peter is standing near the door.
Lebedieff. The policy of France is clear and definite; the French know what they want: it is to skin those German sausages, but the Germans must sing another song; France is not the only thorn in their flesh.
Shabelski. Nonsense! In my opinion the Germans are cowards and the French are the same. They are showing their teeth at one another, but you can take my word for it, they will not do more than that; they’ll never fight!
Borkin. Why should they fight? Why all these congresses, this arming and expense? Do you know what I would do in their place? I would catch all the dogs in the kingdom and inoculate them with Pasteur’s serum, then I would let them loose in the enemy’s country, and the enemies would all go mad in a month.
Lebedieff. [Laughing] His head is small, but the great ideas are hidden away in it like fish in the sea!
Shabelski. Oh, he is a genius.
Lebedieff. Heaven help you, Misha, you are a funny
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