The Private and Intimate Life of the House

BOLKONSKY

I’ve aged

I’ve aged so very much

I fall asleep at the table

My napkin drops to the floor

I’m full of childish vanities

I forget things

And I live in the past

I’ve aged so very much

People enjoy me though

I come in for tea in my old-fashioned coat and powdered wig

And I tell stories

And utter scathing critiques

This stern, shrewd old man

A relic of the past century

With his gentle daughter

Such a majestic and agreeable spectacle

MARY

But besides the couple of hours during which we have guests

There are also twenty-two hours in the day

During which the private and intimate life of the house continues

BOLKONSKY

Bring my me slippers

MARY

Yes father, yes father

BOLKONSKY

Bring me my wine

MARY

Yes father, yes father

BOLKONSKY

If you’re not too busy

Fiddling with your incense and icons?

MARY

No father, no father

And I have no friends

No, never go anywhere

Never invited

For who would take care of him

BOLKONSKY

I can hurt you

MARY & BOLKONSKY

I can hurt you

MARY

But I never ever ever ever would

No father

I love you father

And time moves on

And my fate slips past

And nothing ever happens to me

And Countess Natalya Rostova is coming for tea

NATASHA

I know they’ll like me

Everyone has always liked me

BOLKONSKY

Natasha is young

And worthless and dumb

MARY

And time moves on

And my fate slips past

Is this all I’ll make of my life?

Will I never be happy?

Will I never be anyone’s wife?

BOLKONSKY

Ah, what’s this? A young suitor?

Ah, come in, come in

But don’t sit down, don’t sit down

I’m cold to you

Yes I’m mean to you

Now be gone, be gone be gone!

And don’t come back!

Oh, maybe I’ll marry someone myself

Some cheap French thing

Oh that offends you does it?

Ah, come in my dear

Come in my dear, come in

MARY

And he draws her to him

And he kisses her hand

Embraces her affectionately

And I flush and run out of the room

BOLKONSKY

Come back here

Let an old man have his fun

MARY

But she’s just using you papa

Wants your money papa!

To take advantage of your weakness like that

It’s disgusting

My voice breaks

BOLKONSKY

It’s my money and I’ll throw it where I want

Not at you!

And not at Andrey’s h****t!

Insolent girl!

Insolent girl!

Where—

Where—

Where are my glasses?

Where are they?

Where are my glasses?

Oh God—

Oh God I’m frightened

Oh God I’ve aged so very much

Where are my glasses?

Where are my glasses?

MARY

They are there upon his head

The pride of sacrifice

Gathers in my soul

And he forgets things

He falls asleep at the table

His napkin drops to the floor

His shaking head

Sinks over his plate

He is old and feeble

And I dare to judge him

I disgust myself

I disgust myself