The Inspector-General

Khlestakov and Marya Antonovna.

Marya. Oh!

Khlestakov. What frightened you so, mademoiselle?

Marya. I wasn't frightened.

Khlestakov. [showing off] Please, miss. It's a great pleasure to me that you took me for a man who--May I venture to ask you where you were going?

Marya. I really wasn't going anywhere.

Khlestakov. But why weren't you going anywhere?

Marya. I was wondering whether mamma was here.

Khlestakov. No. I'd like to know why you weren't going anywhere.

Marya. I should have been in your way. You were occupied with important matters.

Khlestakov. [showing off] Your eyes are better than important matters. You cannot possibly disturb me. No, indeed, by no means. On the contrary, you afford me great pleasure.

Marya. You speak like a man from the capital.

Khlestakov. For such a beautiful lady as you. May I give myself the pleasure of offering you a chair? But no, you should have, not a chair, but a throne.

Marya. I really don't know--I really must go [She sits down.]

Khlestakov. What a beautiful scarf that is.

Marya. You are making fun of me. You're only ridiculing the provincials.

Khlestakov. Oh, mademoiselle, how I long to be your scarf, so that I might embrace your lily neck.

Marya. I haven't the least idea what you are talking about--scarf!--Peculiar weather today, isn't it?

Khlestakov. Your lips, mademoiselle, are better than any weather.

Marya. You are just saying that--I should like to ask you--I'd rather you would write some verses in my album for a souvenir. You must know very many.

Khlestakov. Anything you desire, mademoiselle. Ask! What verses will you have?

Marya. Any at all. Pretty, new verses.

Khlestakov. Oh, what are verses! I know a lot of them.

Marya. Well, tell me. What verses will you write for me?

Khlestakov. What's the use? I know them anyway.

Marya. I love them so.

Khlestakov. I have lots of them--of every sort. If you like, for example, I'll give you this: "Oh, thou, mortal man, who in thy anguish murmurest against God--" and others. I can't remember them now. Besides, it's all bosh. I'd rather offer you my love instead, which ever since your first glance--[Moves his chair nearer.]

Marya. Love? I don't understand love. I never knew what love is. [Moves her chair away.]

Khlestakov. Why do you move your chair away? It is better for us to sit near each other.

Marya. [moving away] Why near? It's all the same if it's far away.

Khlestakov. [moving nearer] Why far? It's all the same if it's near.

Marya. [moving away] But what for?

Khlestakov. [moving nearer] It only seems near to you. Imagine it's far. How happy I would be, mademoiselle, if I could clasp you in my embrace.

Marya. [looking through the window] What is that? It looked as if something had flown by. Was it a magpie or some other bird?

Khlestakov. [kisses her shoulder and looks through the window] It's a magpie.

Marya. [rises indignantly] No, that's too much--Such rudeness, such impertinence.

Khlestakov. [holding her back] Forgive me, mademoiselle. I did it only out of love--only out of love, nothing else.

Marya. You take me for a silly provincial wench. [Struggles to go away.]

Khlestakov. [still holding her back] It's out of love, really--out of love. It was just a little fun. Marya Antonovna, don't be angry. I'm ready to beg your forgiveness on my knees. [Falls on his knees.] Forgive me, do forgive me! You see, I am on my knees.