CHUBUKOV, already holding the pickaxe, swings it into the dirt. He swiftly lifts and strikes, again
and again. When satisfied, he picks up the shovel, and begins to dig, tossing the dirt in a
wellformed
mound. NATALYA steps back, but keeps watching.
CHUBUKOV
Even freshly moved, the ground is thick with rocks and roots, but I
fear I lose more time by rotating tools than by breaking my back
with this one. Perhaps you could assist, at least until the black
work is to be done?
NATALYA
(disbelieving that things could get worse) Black work?
CHUBUKOV stops, pants, and leans on the shovel.
CHUBUKOV
Could you still be so ignorant? What I do now is the work of a
gopher, a rabbit, a mole, a worm. I am digging a hole. The hard
part comes when the coffin is struck, and we must remove the
nailsNATALYA
Stop! I won’t hear any more!
NATALYA, in tears, begins to run.
CHUBUKOV
Natalya! No! Wait!
NATALYA runs full sprint into the wilderness. CHUBUKOV pursues, carrying, oddly, the pickaxe
and the shovel.