e. [Turns his head about] I'm drunk! Ugh! The play to-night was
for my benefit, and it is disgusting to think how much beer and wine I
have poured down my throat in honour of the occasion. Gracious! My body
is burning all over, and I feel as if I had twenty tongues in my mouth.
It is horrid! Idiotic! This poor old sinner is drunk again, and doesn't
even know what he has been celebrating! Ugh! My head is splitting, I am
shivering all over, and I feel as dark and cold inside as a cellar! Even
if I don't mind ruining my health, I ought at least to remember my age,
old idiot that I am! Yes, my old age! It's no use! I can play the fool,
and brag, and pretend to be young, but my life is really over now, I
kiss my hand to the sixty-eight years that have gone by; I'll never see
them again! I have drained the bottle, only a few little drops are left
at the bottom, nothing but the dregs. Yes, yes, that's the case, Vasili,
old boy. The time has come for you to rehearse the part of a mummy,
whether you like it or not. Death is on its way to you. [Stares ahead
of him] It is strange, though, that I have been on the stage now for
forty-five years, and this is the first time I have seen a theatre at
night, after the lights have been put out. The first time. [Walks up
to the foot-lights] How dark it is! I can't see a thing. Oh, yes, I can
just make out the prompter's box, and his desk; the rest is in pitch
darkness, a black, bottomless pit, like a grave, in which death itself
might be hiding.... Brr.... How cold it is! The wind blows out of the
empty theatre as though out of a stone flue. What a place for ghosts!
The shivers are running up and down my back. [Calls] Yegorka! Petrushka!
Where are you both? What on earth makes me think of such gruesome
things here? I must give up drinking; I'm an old man, I shan't live much
longer. At sixty-eight people go to church and prepare for death, but
here I am--heavens! A profane old drunkard in this fool's dress--I'm
simply not fit to look at. I must go and change it at once.... This is
a dreadful place, I should die of fright sitting here all night. [Goes
toward his dressing-room; at the same time NIKITA IVANITCH in a long
white coat comes out of the dressing-room at the farthest end of the
stage. SVIETLOVIDOFF sees IVANITCH--shrieks with terror and steps back]
Who are you? What? What do you want? [Stamps his foot] Who are you?

IVANITCH. It is I, sir.

SVIETLOVIDOFF. Who are you?

IVANITCH. [