The Conformist. City life scenes in four acts. Maxim Titovets

Pavlovna. What about the young Gromov, will he come?

      Veselov. Yes. He’s back. He promised to come here today. Switzerland has done him good.

      Victoria Pavlovna. That’s good news.

      Aglaya. Mitya Gromov is a simpleton, though still a good match for Inna. We were sorry that their engagement was canceled because of his overdose in February. But now he’s returned and things seem to be improving.

      Victoria Pavlovna. Seem to be. Although I don’t like it that during the unexpected parting with Mitya Inna became so close with his school friend Nikolay Orlov.

      Yes, Orlov’s mother holds a good position in the Ministry of Education and an additional «lever’ at the establishment won’t be too bad. But I see that Nikolay lacks ambition and interest in his career. How else can one explain that, having got a degree in international affairs at the Ministry Academy, he still dabs in painting?

      Veselov. Experts say he’s got potential. And his father was a decent landscape painter.

      Victoria Pavlovna. You said it – he was! But he got to drinking and died. This is bad heritage.

      Aglaya. Such painters’ problem is that their works grow in price only after their death – in a lucky case.

      Victoria Pavlovna. This won’t suit me and Inna!

      Take Mitya. The young Gromov is not the brightest one. His father though! He’s got real power. And the main thing, he’s made a fortune that will help a few generations prosper for years.

      Lebedev, Katya, Orlov, Inna, Mitya Gromov enter noisily and cheerfully. Inna and Mitya are holding hands.

      Lebedev. We have guests, darling.

      Aglaya. Speak of the devil and there he is.

      Everybody greets each other.

      Katya. Hello!

      Orlov. Good evening! (He bows to Victoria Pavlovna, shakes hands with Aglaya).

      Mitya. I missed you so much. Hello, Victoria Pavlovna, Aglaya!

      Victoria Pavlovna. Hello, Mitya, I’m glad to see you! Please do come in, everyone. Girls, lay the table. We’ll drink tea on the terrace.

      Inna. We must celebrate the meeting! Veselov, where’s the bottle you promised? (Laughs).

      Mitya. Only tea for me. I don’t drink alcohol.

      Veselov. (to Aglaya) The Swiss clinic has obviously done him good: no alcohol, no drugs.

      Aglaya. Just how long will it last?

      Everybody goes to the terrace. Orlov lingers.

      Inna. Nikolay, come in, we’re going to have tea.

      Orlov. Thank you, Inna. I’ll join you soon, I need to make a call first.

      Inna leaves, Orlov stays in the living room alone. He takes out his phone.

      Olga Vladimirovna (on the phone). Yes, Nikolay.

      Orlov. Hello, mum. Is it convenient?

      Olga Vladimirovna, I’m listening to you, dear.

      Orlov. My paintings have got approved for the exhibition at Victoria Lebedeva’s gallery.

      Olga Vladimirovna. (coldly) Congratulations.

      Orlov. I wanted to ask you of a favour. It’s very important for me.

      Domenico Longhi, a professor of painting, is arriving here on Wednesday for the exhibition opening. I know you are old acquaintances. It would be great if he reviewed my works and published his review in his journal, and if he also gave an interview to our journalists. I’m confident in my works. You won’t be embarrassed, mum.

      Pause.

      Olga Vladimirovna. You know how much I love you, Nikolay. That’s exactly why I’ll tell you something you won’t like: if you want to achieve something in this life, never expect help from friends or relatives. Only rely on yourself.

      Orlov. All right. Thank you, mum. See you. (Hangs up, sits wondering for a while, then goes to the terrace to his friends).

      Inna (meets him) Nikolay, join us at the table!

      Orlov. Only rely on yourself.

      Inna. Pardon?

      Orlov. It’s all right, Inna. Life is beautiful. Come on, show me your diploma, it calls for celebration. (Laughs)

      Veselov. My friends, champagne!!! (He opens the bottle, pours into glasses)

      Inna, Katya. Hooray!

      Aglaya. I’m driving, so I’ll have tea. Do we have a cake?

      Lebedev. Has anyone seen my glasses?

      Mitya (To Victoria Pavlovna and Katya) I haven’t had a drink in five months and I’m not even tempted!

      Victoria Pavlovna. Well done, Mitya! We’ve been waiting for you to come back and are happy to see you.

      Lebedev. Well my dear children and guests, welcome to our common holiday! Mr Gromov, welcome back and keep your good health! Miss Lebedeva, congratulations upon your winning and our wishes to play the main role in your play! Mr Orlov, here’s to your talent and exhibition debut, let good luck and success be with you! My dear Victoria Pavlovna, my angel, we have wonderful children and let love and wealth always stay at our house. Hooray!

      Everybody. Hooray! (Glasses clinking, smiles, good humour and laughter).

      Veselov. Yesterday I got a new issue of a magazine with an article by professor Domenico Longhi. He writes about our gallery and about visiting the exhibition on Wednesday. Let’s meet our guest first-class. Mr Lebedev, you know Italian better than the others here, would you read the article to us?

      Lebedev. I would! Has anybody seen my glasses? I can’t find them.

      Inna. Have you looked everywhere?

      Lebedev. I have. I even looked under the sofa.

      Inna. When will you stop losing them? (Laughs) You must have been rummaging in the treasure box again. (Goes off)

      Aglaya. (to Orlov and Katya) Inna and dad have a secret place in the house – it’s the top drawer of the desk in the living room, they call it «treasure box». They keep our childhood drawings and crafts there.

      Inna (returns). Here, take it, daddy-daydreamer.

      LEbedev. Thank you, sweetheart. (Opens the journal, pretends to be reading aloud with a clever face.

      If you believe in what you’re doing,

      You’ll see what you really can.

      You’re strong and you will win.

      Don’t stop!

      You’re the strongest.

      Just hold on and you’ll win.

      Aglaya. I don’t think it’s an article by Domenico Longhi, but the song by Adriano Celentano. That’s a funny little fellow who calls himself a professor. (Laughs)

      We hear the song