Full text of "Plays"
PLAYS
BY
ANTON TCHEKOFF
SECOND SERIES
PLAYS
BV
ANTON TCHEKOFF
SECOND SERIES
ON THE HIGH ROAD : THE
PROPOSAL : THE WEDDING :
THE BEAR : A TRAGEDIAN
IN SPITE OF HIMSELF : THE
ANNIVERSARY : THE THREE
SISTERS : THE CHERRY
ORCHARD
TRANSLATED WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
JULIUS WEST
.r
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1916
Printed in (,rit /irifah, I,,,
7/r,,,.s 0/ , $ Co., Ltd., Lond,,,,
CONTENTS
PAOK
INTRODUCTION ...... 1
ON THE HIGH i;<>\i> . . . . . 9
THE PROPOSAL . . 39
THE WEDDIXC 59
THE BEAR 79
A TRAGEDIAN IN SPITE OF HIMSELF . . 99
THE ANNIVERSARY 109
THE THREE SISTERS . . 129
TKK CHERRY ORCHARD 211
INTRODUCTION
INTRODUCTION
THE last few years have seen a large and generally un-
systematic mass of translations from the Russian flung
at the heads and hearts of English readers. The ready
acceptance of Chekhov has been one of the few successful
features of this irresponsible output. He has been wel-
comed by British critics with something like affection.
Mr. Bernard Shaw has several times remarked : " Every
time I see a play by Chekhov, I want to chuck all my own
stuff into the fire." Others, having no such valuable
property to sacrifice on the altar of Chekhov, have not
hesitated to place him side by side with Ibsen, and the
other established institutions of the new theatre. For
these reasons it is pleasant to be able to chronicle the
fact that, by way of contrast with the casual treatment nor-
mally handed out to Russian authors, the publishers are
rig the complete dramatic works of this author. In
1912 they brought out a volume containing four Chekhov
plays, translated by Marian Fell. All the dramatic works
not included in her volume are to be found in the present
one. With the exception of Chekhov's masterpiece, " The
Cherry Orchard " (translated by the late Mr. George
Calderon in 1912), none of these plays have been previously
published in book form in England or America.
It is not the business of a translator to attempt to outdo
all others in singing the praises of his raw material. This
dangerous process and may well lead, as it led Mr.
3
4 INTRODUCTION
Calderon, to drawing the reader's attention to points of
beauty not to be found in the original. A few biblio-
graphical details are equally necessary and permissible,
and the elementary principles of Chekhov criticism will
also be found useful.
The very existence of " The High Road " (1884), pro-
bably the earliest of its author's plays, will be unsuspected
by English readers. During Chekhov's lifetime it was a
sort of family legend, after his death it became a family
mystery. A copy was finally discovered only last year
in the Censor's office, yielded up, and published. It had
been sent in in 1885 under the nom-de-plume " A. Chek-
honte," and it had failed to pass. The Censor of the time
being had scrawled his opinion on the manuscript, ' ; a
depressing and dirty piece cannot be licensed." The
name of the gentleman who held this view Kaiser von
Kugelgen gives another reason for the educated Russian's
low opinion of German-sounding institutions. Baron von
Tuzenbach, the satisfactory person in " The Three Sisters,"
it will be noted, finds it as well, while he is trying to secure
the favours of Irina, to declare that his German ancestry
is fairly remote. This is by way of parenthesis. " The
High Road," found after thirty years, is a most interesting
document to the lover of Chekhov. Every play he wrote
in later years was either a one-act farce or a four-act
drama.*
In " The High Road " we see, in an embryonic form,
the whole later method of the plays the deliberate con-
trast between two strong characters (Bortsov and Merik
in this case), the careful individualization of each person
* "The Swan Song" may occur as an exception. This, how-
ever, is more of a Shakespeare recitation than anything else, and
so neither here nor there.
INTRODUCTION 5
in a fairly large group by way of an introduction to the
main theme, the concealment of the catastrophe, germ-
wise, in the actual character of the characters, and the
creation of a distinctive group-atmosphere. It need
scarcely be stated that "The High Road " is not a
" dirty " piece according to Russian or to German
standards ; Chekhov was incapable of writing a dirty play
or story. For the rest, this piece differs from the others
in its presentation, not of Chekhov's favourite middle-
classes, but of the moujik, nourishing, in a particularly
stuffy atmosphere, an intense mysticism and an equally
intense thirst for vodka.
" The Proposal " (1889) and " The Bear " (1890) may
be taken as good examples of the sort of humour admired
by the average Russian. The latter play, in another
translation, was put on as a curtain-raiser to a cinemato-
ni' j.h entertainment at a London theatre in 1914, and
had quite a pleasant reception from a thoroughly Philistine
audience.. The humour is very nearly of the variety most
popular over here, the psychology is a shade subtler. The
Russian novelist or dramatist takes to psychology as some
of his fellow-countrymen take to drink ; in doing this he
achieves fame by showing us what we already know, and
at the same time he kills his own creative power. Chekhov
just escaped the tragedy of suicide by introspection, and
only enabled to do this by the possession of a sense
<>f humour. That is why we should not regard "The
Proposal," "The Bear," "The Wedding," or "The
Anniversary " as the work of a merely humorous young
man, but as the saving graces which made perfect " The
Cherry Orchard."
F" The Three Sisters " (1901) is said to act better than
ly other of Chekhov's plays, and should surprise an
INTRODUCTION
English audience exceedingly. It and " The Cherry !
Orchard " are the tragedies of doing nothing. The three
sisters have only one desire in the world, to go to Moscow 1
and live there. There is no reason on earth, economic, j
sentimental, or other, why they should not pack their }
bags and take the next train to Moscow. But they will (
not do it. They cannot do it. And we know perfectly j
well that if they were transplanted thither miraculously, \
i hey would be extremely unhappy as soon as ever the \
excitement of the miracle had worn off. In the other play '
Mme. Eanevsky can be saved from ruin if she will only
consent to a perfectly simple step the sale of an estate.
She cannot do this, is ruined, and thrown out into the ,
unsympathetic world. Chekhov is the dramatist, not of j
action, but of inaction. The tragedy of inaction is as
overwhelming, when we understand it, as the tragedy of
an Othello, or a Lear, crushed by the wickedness of others.
The former is being enacted daily, but we do not stage
it, we do not know how. But who shall deny that the
base of almost all human unhappiness is just this inaction,
manifesting itself in slovenliness of thought and execution,
education, and ideal ?
The Eussian, painfully conscious of his own weaknesses,
has accepted this point of view, and regards " The Cherry
Orchard " as its master-study in dramatic form. They
speak of the palpitating hush which fell upon the audience
of the Moscow Art Theatre after the first fall of the
curtain at the first performance a hush so intense as to
make Chekhov's friends undergo the initial emotions of
assisting at a vast theatrical failure. But the silence was
almost a sob, to be followed, when overcome, by an epic
applause. And, a few months later, Chekhov died.
This volume and that of Marian Fell with which it is
INTRODUCTION 7
uniform contain all the dramatic works of Chekhov. It
has been considered not worth while to translate a few
fragments published posthumously, or a monologue " On
the Evils of Tobacco " a half humorous lecture by " the
husband of his wife," which begins " Ladies, and in some
respects, gentlemen," as this is hardly dramatic work.
There is also a very short skit on the efficiency of provincial
municipal fire brigades, which was obviously not intended
for the stage and has therefore been omitted.
Lastly, the scheme of transliteration employed has been
that, generally speaking, recommended by the Liverpool
School of Russian Studies. This is distinctly the best of
those in the field, but as it would compel one, e.g., to write
a popular female name, " Marya," I have not treated it
with absolute respect. For the sake of uniformity with
Miss Fell's volume, the author's name is spelt Tchekoff
on the title-page and cover.
J. W.
RUSSIAN WEIGHTS AND MEASURES AND
MONEY EMPLOYED IN THE PLAYS,
WITH ENGLISH EQUIVALENTS
1 verst = 3500 feet = f mile (almost)
1 arshin = 28 inches
1 dessiatin = 2-7 acres
1 copeck = ^d.
1 rouble = 100 copecks = 2s. Id.
ON THE HIGH ROAD
A DRAMATIC STUDY
CHARACTERS
TIHON EVSTIGNEYEV, the proprietor of aftinn on the main
road
SEMYON SERGEYEVITCH BORTSOV, a ruined landowner
MARIA EGOROVNA, his wife .
SAVVA, an aged pilgrim
NAZAROVNA"! ., .
T, V women mlqnms
EFIMOVNA J
FEDYA, a labourer
EGOR MERIK, a tramp
KUSMA, a driver
POSTMAN
BORTSOV'S WIFE'S COACHMAN
PILGRIMS, CATTLE-DEALERS, ETC.
The action takes place in one of the provinces
of Southern Russia
ON THE HIGH ROAD
The scene is laid in TIHON'S bar. On the right is the bar-
counter and shelves with bottles. At the back is a door
leading out of the house. Over it, on the outside, hangs
a dirty red lantern. The floor and the forms, which
stand against the wall, are closely occupied by pilgrims
and passers-by. Many of them, for lack of space, are
sleeping as they sit. It is late at night. As the curtain
rises thunder is heard, and lightning is seen through the
door.
TIHON is behind the counter. FEDYA is half -lying in a heap
on one of the forms, and is quietly playing on a con-
certina. Next to him is BORTSOV, wearing a shabby
summer overcoat. SAWA, NAZAROVNA, and EFIMOVNA
are stretched out on the floor by the benches.
EFIMOVNA. [To NAZAROVNA] Give the old man a nudge
dear ! Can't get any answer out of him.
NAZAROVNA. [Lifting the corner of a cloth covering off
SAVVA'S /ace] Are you alive or are you dead, you holy
man ?
SAWA. Why should I be dead ? I'm alive, mother !
[Raises himself on his elbow] Cover up my feet, there's a
saint ! That's it. A bit more on the right one. That's
it, mother. God be good to us.
NAZAROVNA. [Wrapping up SAVVA'S feet] Sleep, little
father.
11
12 ON THE HIGH ROAD
SAVVA. What sleep can I have ? If only I had the
patience to endure this pain, mother ; sleep's quite another
matter. A sinner doesn't deserve to be given rest. What's
that noise, pilgrim-woman ?
NAZAROVNA. God is sending a storm. The wind is
wailing, and the rain is pouring down, pouring down. All
down the roof and into the windows like dried peas. Do
you hear ? The windows of heaven are opened . . .
[Thunder] Holy, holy, holy . . .
FEDYA. And it roars and thunders, and rages, and
there's no end to it ! Hoooo . . . it's like the noise of a
forest. . . . Hoooo. . . . The wind is wailing like a
dog. . . . [Shrinking back] It's cold ! My clothes are wet,
it's all coming in through the open door . . . you might
put me through a wringer. . . . [Plays softly] My con-
certina's damp, and so there's no music for you, my
Orthodox brethren, or else I'd give you such a concert,
my word ! Something marvellous ! You can have a
quadrille, or a polka, if you like, or some Eussian dance
for two. ... I can do them all. In the town, where I
was an attendant at the Grand Hotel, I couldn't make any
money, but I did wonders on my concertina. And I can
play the guitar.
A VOICE FROM THE CORNER. A silly speech from a silly
fool.
FEDYA. I can hear another of them. [Pause.
NAZAROVNA. [To SAVVA] If you'd only lie where it was
warm now, old man, and warm your feet. [Pause] Old
man ! Man of God ! [Shakes SAVVA] Are you going to
die?
FEDYA., You ought to drink a little vodka, grandfather.
Drink, and it'll burn, burn in your stomach, and warm up
your heart. Drink, do !
ON THE HIGH ROAD 13
NAZAROVXA. Don't swank, young man ! Perhaps the
old man is giving back his soul to God, or repenting for his
sins, and you talk like that, and play your concertina. . . .
Put it down ! You've no shame !
FEDYA. And what are you sticking to him for ? He
can't do anything and you . . . with your old women's
talk ... He can't say a word in reply, and you're glad,
and happy because he's listening to your nonsense. . . .
You go on sleeping, grandfather, never mind her ! Let her
talk, don't you take any notice of her. A woman's tongue
is the devil's broom it will sweep the good man and the
clever man both out of the house. Don't you mind. . . .
[Waves his hands] But it's thin you are, brother of mine !
Terrible ! Like a dead skeleton ! No life in you ! Are
you really dying ?
SAVVA. Why should I die ? Save me, Lord, from
dying in vain. . . . I'll suffer a little, and then get up with
God's help. . . . The Mother of God won't let me die in a
strange land. . . . I'll die at home.
FEDYA. Are you from far off ?
SAVVA. From Vologda. The town itself. ... I live
there.
FEDYA. And where is this Vologda ?
TIHON. The other side of Moscow. . . .
FEDYA. Well, well, well. . . . You have come a long
way, old man ! On foot ?
SAWA. On foot, young man. I've been to Tihon of the
Don, and I'm going to the Holy Hills.* . . . From there,
if God wills it, to Odessa. . . . They say you can get to
Jerusalem cheap from there, for twenty-one roubles, they
say. . . .
* On the Donetz, south-east of Kharkov ; a monastery contain-
ng a miraculous ikon.
14 ON THE HIGH ROAD
FEDYA. And have you been to Moscow ?
SAVVA. Rather ! Five times. . . .
FEDYA. Is it a good town ? [Smokes] Well-standing ?
SAVVA. There are many holy places there, young
man. . . . Where there are many holy places it's always
a good town. . . .
BORTSOV. [Goes up to the counter, to TIHON] Once more,
please ! For the sake of Christ, give it to me !
FEDYA. The chief thing about a town is that it should
be clean. If it's dusty, it must be watered ; if it's dirty,
it must be cleaned. There ought to be big houses ... a
theatre . . . police . . . cabs, which . . . I've lived in a
town myself, I understand.
BORTSOV. Just a little glass. I'll pay you for it later.
TIHON. That's enough now.
BORTSOV. I ask you ! Do be kind to me !
TIHON. Get away !
BORTSOV. You don't understand me. . . . Understand
me, you fool, if there's a drop of brain in your peasant's
wooden head, that it isn't I who am asking you, but my
inside, using the words you understand, that's what's
asking ! My illness is what's asking ! Understand !
TIHON. We don't understand anything. . . . Get back !
BORTSOV. Because if I don't have a drink at once, just
you understand this, if I don't satisfy my needs, I may
commit some crime. God only knows what I might do !
In the time you've kept this place, you rascal, haven't you
seen a lot of drunkards, and haven't you yet got to under-
stand what they're like ? They're diseased ! You can do
anything you like to them, but you must give them vodka !
Well, now, I implore you ! Please ! I humbly ask you !
God only knows how humbly !
TIHON. You can have the vodka if you pay for it.
ON THE HIGH ROAD 15
BORTSOV. Where am I to get the money ? I've drunk
it all ! Down to the ground ! What can I give you ?
I've only got this coat, but I can't give you that. I've
nothing on underneath. . . . Would you like my cap ?
[Takes it off and gives it to TIHON
TIHON. [Looks it over] Hm. . . . There are all sorts
of caps. ... It might be a sieve from the holes in
it. ...
FEDYA. [Laughs] A gentleman's cap ! You've got to
take it off in front of the mam'selles. How do you do,
good-bye ! How are you ?
TIHON. [Returns the cap to BORTSOV] I wouldn't give
anything for it. It's muck.
BORTSOV. If you don't like it, then let me owe you for
the drink ! I'll bring in your five copecks on my way back
from town. You can take it and choke yourself with it
then ! Choke yourself ! I hope it sticks in your throat !
[Coughs] I hate you !
TIHON. [Banging the bar-counter with his fist] Why do
you keep on like that ? What a man ! What are you
here for, you swindler ?
BORTSOV. I want a drink ! It's not I, it's my disease !
Understand that !
TIHON. Don't you make me lose my temper, or you'll
soon find yourself outside !
BORTSOV. What am I to do ? [Retires from the bar-
counter} What am I to do ? [Is thoughtful
KFIMOVNA. It's the devil tormenting you. Don't you
mind him, sir. The damned one keeps whispering, " Drink !
Drink ! " And you answer him, " I shan't drink ! I
shan't drink ! " He'll go then.
FEDYA. It's drumming in his head. . . . His stomach's
leading him on ! [Laughs] Your honour's a happy man.
16 ON THE HIGH ROAD
Lie down and go to sleep ! What's the use of standing like
a scarecrow in the middle of the inn ! This isn't an
orchard !
BORTSOV. [Angrily] Shut up ! Nobody spoke to you,
you donkey.
FEDYA. Go on, go on ! We've seen the like of you
before ! There's a lot like you tramping the high road !
As to being a donkey, you wait till I've given you a clout
on the ear and you'll howl worse than the wind. Donkey
yourself ! Fool ! [Pause] Scum !
NAZAROVNA. The old man may be saying a prayer, or
giving up his soul to God, and here are these unclean ones
wrangling with one another and saying all sorts of ...
Have shame on yourselves !
FEDYA. Here, you cabbage-stalk, you keep quiet, even
if you are in a public-house. Just you behave like every-
body else.
BORTSOV. What am I to do ? What will become of me ?
How can I make him understand ? What else can I say
to him ? [To TIHON] The blood's boiling in my chest !
Uncle Tihon ! [Weeps] Uncle Tihon !
SAVVA. [Groans] I've got shooting-pains in my leg, like
bullets of fire. . . . Little mother, pilgrim.
EFIMOVNA. What is it, little father ?
SAVVA. Who's that crying ?
EFIMOVNA. The gentleman.
SAVVA. Ask him to shed a tear for me, that I might die
in Vologda. Tearful prayers are heard.
BORTSOV. I'm not praying, grandfather ! These aren't
tears ! Just juice ! My soul is crushed, and the juice is
running. [Sits by SAVVA] Juice ! But you wouldn't under-
stand ! You, with your darkened brain, wouldn't under-
stand. You people are all in the dark j
ON THE HIGH ROAD 17
SAVVA. Where will you find those who live in the light ?
BORTSOV. They do exist, grandfather. . . . They would
understand !
SAVVA. Yes, yes, dear friend. . . . The saints lived in
the light. . . . They understood all our griefs. . . . You
needn't even tell them . . . and they'll understand. . . .
Just by looking at your eyes. . . . And then you'll have
such peace, as if you were never in grief at all it will all
go!
FEDYA. And have you ever seen any saints ?
SAVVA. It has happened, young man. . . . There are
many of all sorts on this earth. Sinners, and servants of
God.
BORTSOV. I don't understand all this. . . . [Gets up .
quickly] What's the use of talking when you don't under-
stand, and what sort of a brain have I now ? I've only an
instinct, a thirst ! [Goes quickly to the counter] Tihon, take
my oat ! Understand ? [Tries to take it off] My coat . . .
TIHON. And what is there under your coat ? [Looks
under it] Your naked body ? Don't take it off, I shan't
have it. ... I'm not going to burden my soul with a sin.
Enter MERIK.
BORTSOV. Very well, I'll take the sin on myself ! Do
you agree ?
MERIK. [In silence takes off his outer cloak and remains
in a sleeveless jacket. He carries an axe in his belt] A
vagrant may sweat where a bear will freeze. I am hot.
[Puts his axe on the floor and takes off his jacket] You get
rid of a pailful of sweat while you drag one leg out of the
mud. And while you are dragging it out, the other one
goes farther in.
EFIMOVXA. Yes, that's true ... is the rain stopping,
dear 2
18 ON THE HIGH ROAD
MERIK. [Glancing at EFIMOVNA] I don't talk to old
women. [A pause.
BORTSOV. [To TIHON] I'll take the sin on myself. Do
you hear me or don't you ?
TIHON. I don't want to hear you, get away !
MERIK. It's as dark as if the sky was painted with pitch-
You can't see your own nose. And the rain beats into
your face like a snowstorm !
[Picks up his clothes and axe.
FEDYA. It's a good thing for the likes of us thieves.
When the cat's away the mice will play.
MERIK. Who says that ?
FEDYA. Look and see . . . before you forget.
MERIK. We'll make a note of it. ... [Goes up to TIHON]
How do you do, you with the large face ! Don't you
remember me.
TIHON. If I'm to remember every one of you drunkards
that walks the high road, I reckon I'd need ten holes in
my forehead.
MERIK. Just look at me. ... [A pause.
TIHON. Oh, yes, I remember. I knew you by your eyes !
[Gives him his hand] Andrey Polikarpov ?
MERIK. I used to be Andrey Polikarpov, but now I am
Egor Merik.
TIHON. Why's that ?
MERIK. I call myself after whatever passport God gives
me. I've been Merik for two months. [Thunder] Rrrr. . . .
Go on thundering, I'm not afraid ! [Looks round] Any
police here ?
TIHON. What are you talking about, making mountains
out of mole-hills ? . . . The people here are all right. . . .
The police are fast asleep in their feather beds now. . . .
[Loudly] Orthodox brothers, mind your pockets and your
ON THE HIGH ROAD 19
clothes, or you'll have cause to regret it. The man's a
rascal ! He'll rob you !
MKRIK. They can look out for their money, but as to
their clothes I shan't touch them. I've nowhere to take
them.
TIHON. Where's the devil taking you to ?
MERIK. To Kuban.
TIHON. My word !
FEDYA. To Kuban ? Really ? [Sitting up] It's a fine
place. You wouldn't see such a country, brother, if you
were to fall asleep and dream for three years. They say
the birds there, and the beasts are my God ! The grass
grows all the year round, the people are good, and they've
so much land they don't know what to do with it ! The
authorities, they say ... a soldier was telling me the
other day . . . give a hundred dessiatins a head. There's
happiness, God strike me !
MERIK. Happiness. . . . Happiness goes behind you. . . .
You don't see it. It's as near as your elbow is, but you
can't bite it. It's all silly. . . . [Looking round at the
benches and the people] Like a lot of prisoners. ... A
poor lot.
EFIMOVNA. [To MERIK] What great, angry eyes !
There's an enemy in you, young man. . . . Don't you
look at us !
MERIK. Yes, you're a poor lot here.
EFIMOVNA. Turn away ! [Nudges SAVVA] Savva,
darling, a wicked man is looking at us. He'll do us
harm, dear. [To MERIK] Turn away, I tell you, you
snake !
SAVVA. He won't touch us, mother, he won't touch
us. ... God won't let him.
MERIK. All right, Orthodox brothers! [Shrugs 7</-s
20 ON THE HIGH ROAD
shoulders] Be quiet ! You aren't asleep, you bandy-
legged fools ! Why don't you say something ?
EFIMOVNA. Take your great eyes away ! Take away
that devil's own pride !
MERIK. Be quiet, you crooked old woman ! I didn't
come with the devil's pride, but with kind words, wishing
to honour your bitter lot ! You're huddled together like
flies because of the cold I'd be sorry for you, speak kindly
to you, pity your poverty, and here you go grumbling
away ! There's no need for that ! [Goes up to FEDYA]
Where are you from ?
FEDYA. I live in these parts. I work at the Khamon-
yevsky brickworks.
MERIK. Get up.
FEDYA. [Raising himself] Well ?
MERIK. Get up, right up. I'm going to lie down here.
FEDYA. What's that. ... It isn't your place, is it ?
MERIK. Yes, mine. Go and lie on the ground !
FEDYA. You get out of this, you tramp. I'm not afraid
of you.
MERIK. You're very quick with your tongue. . . . Get
up, and don't talk about it ! You'll be sorry for it, you silly.
TIHON. [To FEDYA] Don't contradict him, young man.
Never mind.
FEDYA. What right have you ? You stick out your
fishy eyes and think I'm afraid ! [Picks up his belongings
and stretches himself out on the ground] You devil !
[Lies down and covers himself all over.
MERIK. [Stretching himself out on the bench] I don't
expect you've ever seen a devil or you wouldn't call me
one. Devils aren't like that. [Lies down, putting his axe
next to him] Lie down, little brother axe ... let me cover
you.
ON THE HIGH ROAD 21
TIHON. Where did you get the axe from ?
MERIK. Stole it. ... Stole it, and now I've got to fuss
over it like a child with a new toy ; I don't like to throw
it away, and I've nowhere to put it. Like a beastly
wife. . . . Yes. . . . [Covering himself over] Devils aren't
like that, brother.
FEDYA. [Uncovering his head] What are they like ?
MERIK. Like steam, like air. . . . Just blow into the air.
[Blows] They're like that, you can't see them.
A VOICE FROM THE CORNER. You can see them if you
sit under a harrow.
MERIK. I've tried, but I didn't see any. . . . Old
women's tales, and silly old men's, too. . . . You won't
see a devil or a ghost or a corpse. . . . Our eyes weren't
made so that we could see everything. . . . When I was
a boy, I used to walk in the woods at night on purpose to
see the demon of the woods. . . . I'd shout and shout,
and there might be some spirit, I'd call for the demon of
the woods and not blink my eyes : I'd see all sorts of little
things moving about, but no demon. I used to go and
walk about churchyards at night, I wanted to see the
ghosts but the old women lie. I saw all sorts of animals,
but anything awful not a sign. Our eyes weren't . . .
THE VOICE FROM THE CORNER. Never mind, it does
happen that you do see. ... In our village a man was
gutting a wild boar ... he was separating the tripe
when . . . something jumped out at him !
SAVVA. [Raising himself] Little children, don't talk
about these unclean things ! It's a sin, dears !
MERIK. Aaa . . . greybeard ! You skeleton ! [Laughs]
You needn't go to the churchyard to see ghosts, when they
get up from under the floor to give advice to their rela-
tions. ... A sin ! . . . Don't you teach people your silly
22 ON THE HIGH ROAD
notions ! You're an ignorant lot of people, living in dark-
ness. . . . [Lights his pipe] My father was a peasant and
used to be fond of teaching people. One night he stole a
sack of apples from the village priest, and he brings them
along and tells us, " Look, children, mind you don't eat
any apples before Easter, it's a sin." You're like that. . . .
You don't know what a devil is, but you go calling people
devils. . . . Take this crooked old woman, for instance.
[Points to EFIMOVNA] She sees an enemy in me, but in her
time, for some woman's nonsense or other, she's given her
soul to the devil five times.
EFIMOVNA. Hoo, hoo, hoo. . . . Gracious heavens !
[Covers her face] Little Savva !
TIHON. What are you frightening them for ? A great
pleasure ! [The door slams in the wind] Lord Jesus. . . .
The wind, the wind !
MERIK. [Stretching himself] Eh, to show my strength !
[The door slams again] If I could only measure myself
against the wind ! Shall I tear the door down, or suppose
I tear up the inn by the roots ! [Gets up and lies down
again] How dull !
NAZABOVNA. You'd better pray, you heathen ! Why
are you so restless ?
EFIMOVNA. Don't speak to him, leave him alone ! He's
looking at us again. [To MERIK] Don't look at us, evil
man ! Your eyes are like the eyes of a devil before cock-
crow !
SAVVA. Let him look, pilgrims ! You pray, and his
eyes won't do you any harm.
BORTSOV. No, I can't. It's too much for my strength !
[Goes up to the counter] Listen, Tihon, I ask you for the
last time. . . . Just half a glass !
TIHON. [Shakes his head] The money !
ONTHEHIGHROAD 23
BORTSOV. My God, haven't I told you ! I've drunk it
all ! Where am I to get it ? And you won't go broke
even if you do let me have a drop of vodka on tick. A
glass of it only costs you two copecks, and it will save me
from suffering ! I am suffering ! Understand ! I'm in
misery, I'm suffering !
TIHON. Go and tell that to someone else, not to me. . . .
Go and ask the Orthodox, perhaps they'll give you some
for Christ's sake, if they feel like it, but I'll only give
bread for Christ's sake.
BORTSOV. You can rob those wretches yourself, I
shan't. ... I won't do it ! I won't ! Understand ?
[Hits the bar-counter with his fist] I won't [A pause.}
Hm . . . just wait. . . . {Turns to the pilgrim women]
It's an idea, all the same, Orthodox ones ! Spare five
copecks ! My inside asks for it. I'm ill !
FEDYA. Oh, you swindler, with your " spare five
copecks." Won't you have some water ?
BORTSOV. How I am degrading myself ! I don't want
it ! I don't want anything ! I was joking !
MERIK. You won't get it out of him, sir. . . . He's a
famous skinflint. . . . Wait, I've got a five-copeck piece
somewhere. . . . We'll have a glass between us half each
[Searches in his pockets] The devil . . . it's lost some-
where. . . . Thought I heard it tinkling just now in my
pocket. . . . No, no, it isn't there, brother, it's your
luck ! [A pause.
BORTSOV. But if I can't drink, I'll commit a crime or
I'll kill myself. . . . What shall I do, my God ! [Looks
through the door] Shall I go out, then ? Out into this
darkness, wherever my feet take me. . . .
MERIK. Why don't you give him a sermon, you pilgrims ?
And you, Tihon, why don't you drive him out ? He hasn't
24 ON THE HIGH ROAD
paid you for his night's accommodation. Chuck him out !
Eh, the people are cruel nowadays. There's no gentleness
or kindness in them. ... A savage people ! A man is
drowning and they shout to him : " Hurry up and drown,
we've got no time to look at you, we've got to go to work."
As to throwing him a rope there's no need to worry about
that. ... A rope would cost money.
SAVVA. Don't talk, kind man !
MERIK. Quiet, old wolf ! You're a savage race ! Herods !
Sellers of your souls ! [To TIHON] Come here, take off
my boots ! Look sharp now !
TIHON. Eh, he's let himself go ! [Laughs] Awful, isn't it.
MERIK. Go on, do as you're told ! Quick, now ! [Pause]
Do you hear me, or don't you ? Am I talking to you or
the wall ? [Stands up.
TIHON. Well . . . give over.
MERTK. I want you, you fleecer, to take the boots off
me, a poor tramp.
TIHON. Well, well . . . don't get excited. Here, have
a glass. . . . Have a drink, now !
MERIK. People, what do I want ? Do I want him to
stand me vodka, or to take off my boots ? Didn't I say
it properly ? [To TIHON] Didn't you hear me rightly ?
I'll wait a moment, perhaps you'll hear me then.
There is excitement among the pilgrims and tramps,
who half-raise themselves in order to look at TIHON
and MERIK. They wait in silence.
TIHON. The devil brought you here ! [Comes out from
behind the bar] What a gentleman ! Come on, now. [Takes
off MERIK'S boots] You child of Cain . . .
MERIK. That's right. Put them side by side. . . .
Like that . . . you can go now !
TIHON. [Returns to the bar-counter] You're too fond of
ON THE HIGH ROAD 25
being clever. You do it again and I'll turn you out of
the inn ! Yes ! [To BORTSOV, who is approaching] You,
cigain ?
BORTSOV. Look here, suppose I give you something
made of gold. ... I will give it to you.
TIHON. What are you shaking for ? Talk sense !
BORTSOV. It may be mean and wicked on my part,
but what am I to do ? I'm doing this wicked thing, not
reckoning on what's to come. ... If I was tried for it,
they'd let me off. Take it, only on condition that you
return it later, when I come back from town. I give it to
you in front of these witnesses. You will be my witnesses !
[Takes a gold medallion out from the breast of his coat] Here
it is. ... I ought to take the portrait out, but I've
nowhere to put it ; I'm wet all over. . . . Well, take the
portrait, too ! Only mind this . . . don't let your fingers
touch that face. . . . Please ... I was rude to you, my
dear fellow, I was a fool, but forgive me and . . . don't
touch it with your fingers. . . . Don't look at that face
with your eyes. [Gives TIHON the medallion.
TIHON. [Examining it] Stolen property. . . . All right,
then, drink. . . . [Pours out vodka] Confound you.
BORTSOV. Only don't you touch it ... with your
fingers. [Drinks slowly, with feverish pauses
TIHON. [Opens the medallion] Hm ... a lady ! . . .
Where did you get hold of this ?
MERIK. Let's have a look. [Goes to the bar] Let's see.
TIHON. [Pushes his hand away] Where are you going
to ? You look somewhere else !
FEDYA. [Gets up and comes to TIHON] I want to look,
too!
Several of the tramps, etc., approach the bar and form
a group. MERIK grips TIHON'S hand firmly with
26 ON THE HIGH ROAD
both his, looks at the portrait in the medallion in
silence. A pause.
MERIK. A pretty she-devil. A real lady. . . .
FEDYA. A real lady. . . . Look at her cheeks, her
eyes. . . . Open your hand, I can't see. Hair coming
down to her waist. ... It is lifelike ! She might be going
to say something. . . . [Pause.
MERIK. It's destruction for a weak man. A woman like
that gets a hold on one and . . . [Waves his hand] you're
done for !
KUSMA'S voice is heard. " Trrr. . . . Stop, you
brutes ! " Enter KUSMA.
KUSMA. There stands an inn upon my way. Shall I
drive or walk past it, say ? You can pass your own father
and not notice him, but you can see an inn in the dark a
hundred versts away. Make way, if you believe in God !
Hullo, there ! [Planks a jive-copeck piece down on the counter'}
A glass of real Madeira ! Quick !
FEDYA. Oh, you devil !
TIHON. Don't wave your arms about, or you'll hit some-
body.
KUSMA. God gave us arms to wave about. Poor sugary
things, you're half-melted. You're frightened of the rain,
poor delicate things.
[Drinks.
EFIMOVNA. You may well get frightened, good man, if
you're caught on your way in a night like this. Now,
thank God, it's all right, there are many villages and houses
where you can shelter from the weather, but before that
there weren't any. Oh, Lord, it was bad ! You walk a
hundred versts, and not only isn't there a village, or a
house, but you don't even see a dry stick. So you sleep
on the ground. . . .
ON THE HIGH ROAD 27
KUSMA. Have you been long on this earth, old woman ?
EFIMOVNA. Over seventy years, little father.
KUSMA. Over seventy years ! You'll soon come to
crows' years. [Looks at BORTSOV] And what sort of a
raisin is this ? [Staring at BORTSOV] Sir ! [BORTSOV recog-
nizes KUSMA and retires in confusion to a corner of the room,
where he sits on a bench] Semyon Sergeyevitch ! Is that
you, or isn't it ? Eh ? What are you doing in this place ?
It's not the sort of place for you, is it ?
BORTSOV. Be quiet !
MERIK. [To KUSMA] Who is it ?
KUSMA. A miserable sufferer. [Paces irritably by the
counter] Eh ? In an inn, my goodness ! Tattered !
Drunk ! I'm upset, brothers . . . upset. . . . [To MERIK,
in an undertone] It's my master . . . our landlord. Semyon
Sergeyevitch and Mr. Bortsov. . . . Have you ever seen
a man in such a state ? What does he look like ? Just . . .
it's the drink that brought him to this. . . . Give me some
more ! [Drinks] I come from his village, Bortsovka ; you
may have heard of it, it's 200 versts from here, in the
Ergovsky district. We used to be his father's serfs. . . .
What a shame !
MERIK. Was he rich ?
KUSMA. Very.
MERIK. Did he drink it all ?
KUSMA. No, my friend, it was something else. ... He
used to be great and rich and sober. . . . [To TIHON] Why
you^ourself used to see him riding, as he used to, past
this inn, on his way to the town. Such bold and noble
horses ! A carriage on springs, of the best quality ! He
used to own five troikas, brother. . . . Five years ago,
I remember, he came here driving two horses from
Mikishinsky, and he paid with a five-rouble piece. . . .
28 ON THE HIGH ROAD
I haven't the time, he says, to wait for the change. . . .
There !
MERIK. His brain's gone, I suppose.
KUSMA. His brain's all right. ... It all happened
because of his cowardice ! From too much fat. First of
all, children, because of a woman. ... He fell in love
with a woman of the town, and it seemed to him that there
wasn't any more beautiful thing in the wide world. A
fool may love as much as a wise man. The girl's people
were all right. . . . But she wasn't exactly loose, but
just . . . giddy . . . always changing her mind ! Always
winking at one ! Always laughing and laughing. . . .
No sense at all. The gentry like that, they think that's
nice, but we moujiks would soon chuck her out. . . .
Well, he fell in love, and his luck ran out. He began to
keep company with her, one thing led to another . . .
they used to go out in a boat all night, and play pianos. . . .
BOETSOV. Don't tell them, Kusma ! Why should you ?
What has my life got to do with them ?
KUSMA. Forgive me, your honour, I'm only telling them
a little . . . what does it matter, anyway. ... I'm
shaking all over. Pour out some more. [Drinks.
MERTK. [In a semitone] And did she love him ?
KUSMA. [In a semitone which gradually becomes his
ordinary voice] How shouldn't she ? He was a man of
means. ... Of course you'll fall in love when the man has
a thousand dessiatins and money to burn. . . . He was a
solid, dignified, sober gentleman . . . always the same,
like this . . . give me your hand [Takes MERIK'S hand]
" How do you do and good-bye, do me the favour." Well,
I was going one evening past his garden and what a
garden, brother, versts of it I was going along quietly,
and I look and see the two of them sitting on a seat and
ON THE HIGH ROAD 29
kissing each other. [Imitates the sound] He kisses her once,
and the snake gives him back two. ... He was holding
her white, little hand, and she was all fiery and kept on
getting closer and closer, too. ..." I love you," she
says. And he, like one of the damned, walks about from
one place to another and brags, the coward, about his
happiness. . . . Gives one man a rouble, and two to
another. . . . Gives me money for a horse. Let off every-
body's debts. . . .
BORTSOV. Oh, why tell them all about it ? These people
haven't any sympathy. ... It hurts !
KUSMA. It's nothing, sir ! They asked me ! Why
shouldn't I tell them ? But if you are angry I won't . . .
I won't. . . . What do I care for them. . . .
[Post-bells are heard.
FEDYA. Don't shout ; tell us quietly. . . .
KUSMA. I'll tell you quietly. ... He doesn't want me
to, but it can't be helped. . . . But there's nothing more
to tell. They got married, that's all. There was nothing
else. Pour out another drop for Kusma the stony 1
[Drinks] I don't like people getting drunk ! Why the
time the wedding took place, when the gentlefolk sat down
to supper afterwards, she went off in a carriage . . .
[Whispers] To the town, to her lover, a lawyer. ... Eh ?
What do you think of her now ? Just at the very moment !
She would be let off lightly if she were killed for it !
MERIK. [Thoughtfully] Well . . . what happened then ?
KUSMA. He went mad. ... As you see, he started with
a fly, as they say, and now it's grown to a bumble-bee. It
was a fly then, and now it's a bumble-bee. . . . And he
still loves her. Look at him, he loves her ! I expect he's
walking now to the town to get a glimpse of her with one eye.
. . . He'll get a glimpse of her, and go back. . . .
30 ON THE HIGH ROAD
The post has driven up to the inn. The POSTMAN
enters and has a drink.
TIHON. The post's late to-day !
The POSTMAN pays in silence and goes out. The
post drives off, the bells ringing.
A VOICE FROM THE CORNER. One could rob the post in
weather like this easy as spitting.
MERIK. I've been alive thirty-five years and I haven't
robbed the post once. . . . [Pause] It's gone now . . .
too late, too late. ...
KUSMA. Do you want to smell the inside of a prison ?
MERIK. People rob and don't go to prison. And if I
do go ! [Suddenly] What else ?
KUSMA. Do you mean that unfortunate ?
MERIK. Who else ?
KUSMA. The second reason, brothers, why he was ruined
was because of his brother-in-law, his sister's husband. . . .
He took it into his head to stand surety at the bank for
30,000 roubles for his brother-in-law. The brother-in-
law's a thief. . . . The swindler knows which side his
bread's buttered and won't budge an inch. ... So he
doesn't pay up. ... So our man had to pay up the whole
thirty thousand. [Sighs] The fool is suffering for his folly.
His wife's got children now by the lawyer and the brother-
in-law has bought an estate near Poltava, and our man
goes round inns like a fool, and complains to the likes of
us : " I've lost all faith, brothers ! I can't believe in
anybody now ! " It's cowardly ! Every man has his
grief, a snake that sucks at his heart, and does that mean
that he must drink ? Take our village elder, for example.
His wife plays about with the schoolmaster in broad day-
light, and spends his money on drink, but the elder walks
about smiling to himself. He's just a little thinner. . . .
ON THE HIGH ROAD 31
TIHON. [Sighs] When God gives a man strength. . . .
KUSMA. There's all sorts of strength, that's true. . . .
Well ? How much does it come to ? [Pays] Take your
pound of flesh ! Good-bye, children ! Good-night and
pleasant dreams ! It's time I hurried off. I'm bringing
my lady a midwife from the hospital. . . . She must be
getting wet with waiting, poor thing. . . .
[Runs out. A pause.
TIHON. Oh, you ! Unhappy man, come and drink this !
[Pours out.
BORTSOV. Comes up to the bar hesitatingly and drinks]
That means I now owe you for two glasses.
TIHON. You don't owe me anything ? Just drink and
drown your sorrows !
FEDYA. Drink mine, too, sir ! Oh ! [Throws down a
five-copeck piece] If you drink, you die ; if you don't
drink, you die. It's good not to drink vodka, but by
God you're easier when you've got some ! Vodka takes
grief away. ... It is hot !
BORTSOV. Foo ! The heat !
MERIK. Give it here ! [Takes the medallion from TIHON
and examines her portrait] Hm. Ran off after the wedding.
What a woman !
A VOICE FROM THE CORNER. Pour him out another glass,
Tihon. Let him drink mine, too.
MERIK. [Dashes the medallion to the ground] Curse her !
Goes quickly to his place and lies down, face to the
wall. General excitement.
BORTSOV. Here, what's that ? [Picks up the medallion]
How dare you, you beast ? What right have you ? [Tear-
fully] Do you want me to kill you ? You moujik ! You
boor !
TIHON. Don't be angry, sir. ... It isn't glass, it isn't
32 ON THE HIGH ROAD
broken. . . . Have another drink and go to sleep. [Pours
out] Here I've been listening to you all, and when I ought
to have locked up long ago.
[Goes and locks door leading out.
BORTSOV. [Drinks] How dare he ? The fool ! [To
MERIK] Do you understand ? You're a fool, a donkey !
SAVVA. Children ! If you please ! Stop that talking !
What's the good of making a noise ? Let people go to
sleep.
TIHON. Lie down, lie down ... be quiet ! [Goes behind
the counter and locks the till] It's time to sleep.
FEDYA. It's time ! [Lies down] Pleasant dreams,
brothers !
MERIK. [Gets up and spreads his short fur and coat on
the bench] Come on, lie down, sir.
TIHON. And where will you sleep.
MERIK. Oh, anywhere. . . . The floor will do. . . .
[Spreads a coat on the floor] It's all one to me [Puts the axe
by him] It would be torture for him to sleep on the floor.
He's used to silk and down. . . .
TIHON. [To BORTSOV] Lie down, your honour ! You've
looked at that portrait long enough. [Puts out a candle]
Throw it away !
BORTSOV. [Swaying about] Where can I lie down ?
TIHON. In the tramp's place ! Didn't you hear him
giving it up to you ?
BORTSOV. [Going up to the vacant place] I'm a bit . . .
drunk . . . after all that. ... Is this it ? ... Do I lie
down here ? Eh ?
TIHON. Yes, yes, lie down, don't be afraid.
[Stretches himself out on the counter.
BORTSOV. [Lying down] I'm . . . drunk. . . . Every-
thing's going round. . . . [Opens the medallion] Haven't
ONTHEHIGHROAD 33
you a little candle ? [Pause] You're a queer little woman
Muslui. . . . Looking at me out of the frame and laugh-
ing. . . . [Laughs] I'm drunk ! And should you laugh
at a man because he's drunk ? You look out, as Schast-
livtsev says, and . . . love the drunkard.
FEDYA. How the wind howls. It's dreary !
BORTSOV. [Laughs] What a woman. . . . Why do you
keep on going round ? I can't catch you !
MERIK. He's wandering. Looked too long at the por-
trait. [Laughs] What a business ! Educated people go
and invent all sorts of machines and medicines, but there
hasn't yet been a man wise enough to invent a medicine
against the female sex. . . . They try to cure every sort
of disease, and it never occurs to them that more people
die of women than of disease. . . . Sly, stingy, cruel,
brainless. . . . The mother-in-law torments the bride
and the bride makes things square by swindling the
husband . . . and there's no end to it. ...
TIHON. The women have ruffled his hair for him, and
so he's bristly.
MERIK. It isn't only I. ... From the beginning of the
ages, since the world has been in existence, people have
complained. . . . It's not for nothing that in the songs
and stories, the devil and the woman are put side by
side. . . . Not for nothing ! It's half true, at any rate. . .
[Pause] Here's the gentleman playing the fool, but I had
more sense, didn't I, when I left my father and mother,
and became a tramp ?
FEDYA. Because of women ?
MERIK. Just like the gentleman ... I walked about
like one of the damned, bewitched, blessing my stars . .
on fire day and night, until at last my eyes were
opened. . . It wasn't love, but just a fraud. . . .
34 ON THE HIGH ROAD
FEDYA. What did you do to her ?
MERIK. Never you mind. . . . [Pause] Do you think
I killed her ? . . . I wouldn't do it. ... If you kill, you
are sorry for it. ... She can live and be happy ! If only
Td never set eyes on you, or if I could only forget you,
you viper's brood ! . [A knocking at the door.
TIHON. Whom have the devils brought. . . . Who's
there ? [Knocking] Who knocks ? [Gets up and goes to the
door] Who knocks ? Go away, we've locked up !
A VOICE. Please let me in, Tihon. The carriage-spring's
broken ! Be a father to me and help me ! If I only had
a little string to tie it round with, we'd get there somehow
or other.
TIHON. Who are you ?
THE VOICE. My lady is going to Varsonofyev from the
town. . . . It's only five versts farther on. ... Do be a
good man and help !
TIHON. Go and tell the lady that if she pays ten
roubles she can have her s|ring and we'll mend the
spring.
THE VOICE. Have you gone mad, or what ? Ten
roubles ! You mad dog ! Profiting by our misfor-
tunes !
TIHON. Just as you like. . . . You needn't if you don't
want to.
THE VOICE. Very well, wait a bit. [Pause] She says, all
right.
TIHON. Pleased to hear it !
[Opens door. The COACHMAN enters.
COACHMAN. Good evening, Orthodox people ! Well,
give me the string ! Quick ! Who'll go and help us,
children ? There'll be something left over for your
trouble !
ON THE HIGH ROAD 35
TIHON. There won't be anything left over. . . . Let
them sleep, the two of us can manage.
COACHMAN. Foo, I am tired ! It's cold, and there's not
a dry spot in all the mud. . . . Another thing, dear. . . .
Have you got a little room in here for the lady to warm
herself in ? The carriage is all on one side, she can't stay
in it. ...
TIHON. What does she want a room for ? She can
warm herself in here, if she's cold. . . . We'll find a place
[Clears a space next to BORTSOV] Get up, get up ! Just lie
on the floor for an hour, and let the lady get warm. [To
BORTSOV] Get up, your honour ! Sit up ! [BORTSOV sits
up] Here's a place for you. [Exit COACHMAN.
FEDYA. Here's a visitor for you, the devil's brought her !
Now there'll be no sleep before daylight.
TIHON. I'm sorry I didn't ask for fifteen. . . . She'd
have given them. . . . [Stands expectantly before the door]
You're a delicate sort of people, I must say. [Enter MARIA
EGOROVNA, followed by the COACHMAN. TIHON bows.]
Please, your highness ! Our room is very humble, full of
blackbeetles ! But don't disdain it !
MARIA EGOROVNA. I can't see anything. . . . Which
way do I go ?
TIHON. This way, your highness ! [Leads her to the place
next to BORTSOV] This way, please. [Blows on the place]
I haven't any separate rooms, excuse me, but don't you
be afraid, madam, the people here are good and quiet. . . .
MARIA EGOROVNA [Sits next to BORTSOV] How awfully
stuffy ! Open the door, at any rate !
TIHON. Yes, madam. [Runs and opens the door wide.
MERIK. We're freezing, and you open the door ! [Gets up
and slams it] Who are you to be giving orders ?
[Lies down
36 ON THE HIGH ROAD
TIHON. Excuse me, your highness, but we've a little
fool here ... a bit cracked. . . . But don't you be
frightened, he won't do you any harm. . . . Only you must
excuse me, madam, I can't do this for ten roubles
Make it fifteen.
MARIA EGOROVNA. Very well, only be quick.
TIHON. This minute . . . this very instant. [Drags
some string out from under the counter] This minute.
[A pause.
BORTSOV. [Looking at MARIA EGOROVNA] Marie . . .
Masha . . .
MARIA EGOROVNA [Looks at BORTSOV] What's this ?
BORTSOV. Marie ... is it you ? Where do you come
from ? [MARIA EGOROVNA recognizes BORTSOV, screams
and runs off into the centre of the floor. BORTSOV follows]
Marie, it is I ... I [Laughs loudly] My wife ! Marie !
Where am I ? People, a light !
MARIA EGOROVNA. Get away from me ! You lie, it isn't
you ! It can't be ! [Covers her face with her hands] It's a
lie, it's all nonsense !
BORTSOV. Her voice, her movements. . . . Marie, it
is I ! I'll stop in a moment. ... I was drunk. . . . My
head's going round. . . . My God ! Stop, stop. ... I
can't understand anything. [Yells] My wife !
Falls at her feet and sobs. A group collects around
the husband and wife.
MARIA EGOROVNA. Stand back ! [To the COACHMAN]
Denis, let's go ! I can't stop here any longer !
MERIK. [Jumps up and looks her steadily in the face]
The portrait ! [Grasps her hand] It is she ! Eh, people,
she's the gentleman's wife !
MARIA EGOROVNA. Get away, fellow ! [Tries to tear her
hand away from him] Denis, why do you stand there
ON THE HIGH ROAD 37
staring ? [DENIS and TIHON run up to her and get hold of
MERIK'S arms] This thieves' kitchen ! Let go my hand !
I'm not afraid ! . . . Get away from me !
MERIK.* Wait a bit, and I'll let go. ... Just let me
say one word to you. . . . One word, so that you may
understand. . . . Just wait. . . . [Turns to TIHON and
DENIS] Get away, you rogues, let go ! I shan't let you
go till I've had my say ! Stop . , . one moment. [Strikes
his forehead with his fist] No, God hasn't given me the
wisdom ! I can't think of the word for you !
MARIA EGOROVNA. [Tears away her hand] Get away !
Drunkards . . . let's go, Denis !
She tries to go out, but MERIK blocks the door.
MERIK. Just throw a glance at him, with only one eye
if you like ! Or say only just one kind little word to him !
For God's own sake !
MARIA EGOROVNA. Take away this . . . fool.
MERIK. Then the devil take you, you accursed
woman !
He swings his axe. General confusion. Everybody
jumps up noisily and with cries of horror. SAW A
xfnitds between MERIK and MARIA EGOROVNA. . . .
DENIS forces MERIK to one side and carries out his
mistress. After this all stand as if turned to stone.
A prolonged pause. BORTSOV suddenly waves hit
/in mis in the air.
BORTSOV. Marie . . . where are you, Marie !
NAZAROVNA. My God, my God ! You've torn up my
soul, your murderers ! What an accursed night !
MERIK. [Lowering his hand; he still holds the axe] Did
I kill her or no ?
* Throughout this speech, in the original, Merik uses the familiar
second person singular.
38 ON THE HIGH ROAD
TIHON. Thank God, your head is safe. . . .
MERIK. Then I didn't kill her. . . . [Totters to his bed]
Fate hasn't sent me to my death because of a stolen
axe. . . . [Falls down and sobs] Woe ! Woe is me !
Have pity on me, Orthodox people !
Curtain.
THE PROPOSAL
CHARACTERS
STEFAN STEPANOVITCH CHUBUKOV, a landowner
NATAL Y A STEPANOVNA, his daughter, twenty -five years old
IVAN VASSILEVITCH LOMOV, a neighbour of Chubukov, a
large and hearty, but very suspicious landowner
The scene is laid at CHUBUKOV 's country-house
THE PROPOSAL
A drawing-room in CHUBUKOV'S house.
LOMOV enters, wearing a dress-jacket and white gloves.
CHUBUKOV rises to meet him.
CHUBUKOV. My dear fellow, whom do I see ! Ivan
Vassilevitch ! I am extremely glad ! [Squeezes his hand\
Now this is a surprise, my darling. . . . How are you ?
LOMOV. Thank you. And how may you be getting on ?
CHUBUKOV. We just get along somehow, my angel,
thanks to your prayers, and so on. Sit down, please
do. ... Now, you know, you shouldn't forget all about
your neighbours, my darling. My dear fellow, why are
you so formal in your get-up ? Evening dress, gloves, and
SM on. Can you be going anywhere, my treasure ?
LOMOV. No, I've come only to see you, honoured Stepan
Stepanovitch.
CHUBUKOV. Then why are you in evening dress, my
precious? As if you're paying a New Year's Eve
visit !
LOMOV. Well, you see, it's like this. [Takes his arm]
I've come to you, honoured Stepan Stepanovitch, to
trouble you with a request. Not once or twice have I
already had the privilege of applying to you for help, and
you have always, BO to speak . . . I must ask your pardon,
I am getting excited. I shall drink some water, honoured
Stepan Stepanovitch. [Drink*.
41
42 THE PROPOSAL
CHUBUKOV. [Aside] He's come to borrow money ! Shan't
give him any ! [Aloud] What is it, my beauty ?
LOMOV. You see, Honour Stepanitch ... I beg pardon,
Stepan Honouritch ... I mean, I'm awfully excited, as
you will please notice. ... In short, you alone can help
me, though I don't deserve it, of course . . . and haven't
any right to count on your assistance. . . .
CHUBUKOV. Oh, don't go round and round it, darling !
Spit it out! Well?
LOMOV. One moment . . . this very minute. The fact
is, I've come to ask the hand of your daughter, Natalya
Stepanovna, in marriage.
CHUBUKOV. [Joyfully] ByJkrre ! Ivan Vassilevitch !
Say it again I didn't hear it all !
LOMOV. I have the honour to ask . . .
CHUBUKOV. [Interrupting] My dear fellow . . . I'm so
glad, and so on. ... Yes, indeed, and all that sort of
thing. [Embraces and kisses LOMOV] I've been hoping for
it for a long time. It's been my continual desire. [Sheds
a tear] And I've always loved you, my angel, as if you
were my own son. May God give you both His help and
His love and so on, and I did so much hope . . . What
am I behaving in this idiotic way for ? I'm off my balance
with joy, absolutely off my balance ! Oh, with all my
soul . . . I'll go and call Natasha, and all that.
LOMOV. [Greatly moved] Honoured Stepan Stepanovitch,
do you think I may count on her consent ?
CHUBUKOV. Why, of course, my darling, and ... as if
she won't consent ! She's in love ; egad, she's like a love-
sick cat, and so on. ... Shan't be long ! [Exit.
LOMOV. It's cold . . . I'm trembling all over, just as
if I'd got an examination before me. The great thing is,
I must have my mind made up. If I give myself time to
THE PROPOSAL 43
think, to hesitate, to talk a lot, to look for an ideal, or for
real love, then I'll never get married. . . . Brr ! . . .
It's cold ! Natalya Stepanovna is an excellent housekeeper,
not bad-looking, well-educated. . . . What more do I
want ? But I'm getting a noise in my ears from excite-
ment. [Drinks] And it's impossible for me not to marry
... In the first place, I'm already 35 a critical age,
so to speak. In the second place, I ought to lead a quiet
and regular life. ... I suffer from palpitations, I'm exci-
table and always getting awfully upset. ... At this very
moment my lips are trembling, and there's a twitch in
my right eyebrow. . . . But the very worst of all is the
way I sleep. I no sooner get into bed and begin to go on
when suddenly something in my left side gives a pull,
and lean feel it in my shoulder and head. . . . I jump up
like a lunatic, walk about a bit, and lie down again, but
as soon as I begin to get off to sleep there's another pull !
: Ins may happen twenty times. . . .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA comes f in. \
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Well^-^kere'! It's you, and
papa said, " Go ; there's![a merchant come for his goods."
How do you do, Ivan Vassilevitch !
LOMOV. How do you do, honoured Natalya Stepanovna ?
; NATALYA STEPANOVNA. You must excuse my apron and
n bfjligb . . . we're shelling peas for drying. Why haven't
you been here for such a long time ? Sit down. . . .
[They seat themselves] Won't you have some lunch ?
LOMOV. No, thank you, I've had some already.
NATALYA IVANOVNA. Then smoke. . . . Here are the
matches. . . . The weather is splendid now, but yesterday
it was so wet that the workmen didn't do anything all
day. How much hay have you stacked ? Just think,
I felt greedy and had a whole field cut, and now I'm not
44 THE PROPOSAL
at all pleased about it because I'm afraid my hay may rot.
I ought to have waited a bit. But what's this ? Why,
you're in evening dress ! Well, I never ! Are you going
to a ball, or what ? though I must say you look better.
. . . Tell me, why are you got up like that ?
LOMOV. [Excited] You see, honoured Natalya Stepa-
novna . . . the fact is, I've made up my mind to ask you
to hear me out. ... Of course you'll be surprised and
perhaps even angry, but a'^ . . [Aside] It's awfully
cold !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What's the matter ? [Pause]
Well ?
LOMOV. I shall try to be brief . You must know, honoured
Natalya Stepanovna, that I have long, since my childhood,
in fact, had the privilege of knowing your family. My
late aunt and her husband, from whom, as you know, I
inherited my land, always had the greatest respect for
your father and your late mother. The Lomovs and the
Chubukovs have always had the most friendly, and I
might almost say the most affectionate, regard for each
other. And, as you know, my land is a near neighbour of
yours. You will remember that my Oxen Meadows touch
your birchwoods.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Excuse my interrupting you.
Yon say, " my Oxen Meadows. . . ." But are they
yours ?
LOMOV. Yes, mine.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What are you talking about ?
Oxen Meadows are ours, not yours !
LOMOV. No, mine, honoured Natalya Stepanovna.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Well, I never knew that before.
How do you make that out ?
LOMOV. How ? I'm speaking of those Oxen Meadows
THEPROPOSAL 45
which are wedged in Ix-tween your birchwoods and the
I'.urnt Marsh.
NATAL YA STEPANOVNA. Yes, yes. . . . They're ours.
LM.MOV. No, you're mistaken, honoured Natalya Stepa-
novna, they're mine.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Just think, Ivan Vassilevitch !
How long have they been yours ?
LOMOV. How long ? As long as I can remember.
XATALYA STEPANOVNA. Really, you won't get me to
believe that !
LOMOV. But you can see from the documents, honoured
Natalya Stepanovna. Oxen Meadows, it's true, were ourr
tin- subject of dispute, but now everybody knows that
they are mine. There's nothing to argue about. You see,
my aunt's grandmother gave the free use of these Meadows
in perpetuity to the peasants of your father's grandfather,
in return for which they were to make bricks for her. The
peasants belonging to your father's grandfather had the
free use of the Meadows for forty years, and had got into
the habit of regarding them as their own, when it happened
that . . .
XATALYA STEPANOVNA. No, it isn't at all like that !
Both my grandfather and great-grandfather reckoned that
their land extended to Burnt Marsh which means that
Oxen Meadows were ours. I don't see what there is to
trjut' about. It's simply silly ! -
LOMOV. I'll show you the (J 00 ^ 11611 ^, Natalya Stepa-
Tiovna !
ALYA STEPANOVNA. No, you're simply joking, or
uiakui fun -of me. . . . What a surprise ! We've had the
land for nearly three hundred years, and then we're sud-
I'-nly told that it isn't ours! Ivan Vassilevitch, I can
hardly believe my own ears. . . . These Meadows aren't
46 THE PROPOSAL
worth much to me. They only come to five dessiatins,*
and are worth perhaps 300 roubles,f but I can't stand
unfairness. Say what you will, but I can't stand unfairness.
LOMOV. Hear me out, I implore you ! The peasants of
your father's grandfather, as I have already had the honour
of explaining to you, used to bake bricks for my aunt's
grandmother. Now my aunt's grandmother, wishing to
make them a pleasant . . .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I can't make head or tail of all
this about aunts and grandfathers and grandmothers !
The Meadows are ours, and that's all.
LOMOV. Mine.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Ours ! You can go on proving
it for two days on end, you can go and put on fifteen dress-
jackets, but I tell you they're ours, ours, ours ! I don't
want anything of yours and I don't want to give up any-
thing of mine. So there !
LOMOV. Natalya Ivanovna, I don't want the Meadows,
but I am acting on principle. If you like, I'll make you
a present of them.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I can make you a present of
them myself, because they're mine ! Your behaviour,
Ivan Vassilevitch, is strange, to say the least ! Up to this
we have always thought of you as a good neighbour, a
friend : last year we lent you our threshing-machine,
although on that account we had to put off our own thresh-
ing till November, but you behave to us as if we were
gipsies. Giving me my own land, indeed ! No, really ?
that's not at all neighbourly ! In my opinion, it's even
impudent, if you want to know. . . .
LOMOV. Then you make out that I'm a land-grabber ?
Madam, never in my life have I grabbed anybody else's
* 13| acres. t 30.
THE PROPOSAL 47
land, and I shan't allow anybody to accuse me of having
done so. ... [Quickly steps to the carafe and drinks more
water] Oxen Meadows are mine !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It's not true, they're ours !
LOMOV. Mine !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It's not true ! I'll prove it !
I'll send my mowers out to the Meadows this very day !
LOMOV. What ?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. My mowers will be there this
very day !
LOMOV. I'll give it to them in the neck !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. You dare !
LOMOV. [Clutches at his heart] Oxen Meadows are mine !
You understand ? Mine !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Please don't shout ! You can
shout yourself hoarse in your own house, but here I must
ask you to restrain yourself !
LOMOV. If it wasn't, madam, for this awful, excruciating
palpitation, if my whole inside wasn't upset, I'd talk to
you in a different way ! [ Yells] Oxen Meadows are mine !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Ours !
LOMOV. Mine !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Ours !
LOMOV. Mine !
Enter CHUBUKOV.
CHUBUKOV. What's the matter ? What are you shouting
at?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa, please tell to this gentle-
man who owns Oxen Meadows, we or he ?
CHUBUKOV. [To LOMOV] Darling, the Meadows are ours !
LOMOV. But, please, Stepan Stepanitch, how can they
be yours ? Do be a reasonable man ! My aunt's grand-
mother gave the Meadows for the temporary and free use
48 THE PROPOSAL
of your grandfather's peasants. The peasants used the
land for forty years and got as accustomed to it as if it was
their own, when it happened that . . .
CHUBUKOV. Excuse me, my precious. . . . You forget
just this, that the peasants didn't pay your grandmother
and all that, because the Meadows were in dispute, and so
on. And now everybody knows that they're ours. It
means that you haven't seen the plan.
LOMOV. I'll prove to you that they're mine !
CHUBUKOV. You won't prove it, my darling.
LOMOV. I shall !
CHUBUKOV. Dear one, why yell like that ? You won't
prove anything just by yelling. I don't want anything of
yours, and don't intend to give up what I have. Why
should I ? And you know, my beloved, that if you propose
to go on arguing about it, I'd much sooner give up the
meadows to the peasants than to you. There !
LOMOV. I don't understand ! How have you the right
to give away somebody else's property ?
CHUBUKOV. You may take it that I know whether I
have the right or not. Because, young man, I'm not used
to being spoken to in that tone of voice, and so on : I,
young man, am twice your age, and ask you to speak to
me without agitating yourself, and all that.
LOMOV. No, you just think I'm a fool and want to h
me QB ! Xou call my land yours, and then you want me to
talk to you calmly and politely ! Good neighbours don't
behave like that, Stepan Stepanitch ! You're not a neigh-
bour, you're a grabber !
CHUBUKOV. What's that ? What did you say ?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa, send the mowers out to
the Meadows at once !
CHUBUKOV. What did you say, sir ?
THE PROPOSAL 49
NATALYA STETANOVNA. Oxen Meadows are ours, and
I shan't give them up, shan't give them up, shan't give
them up !
LOMOV. We'll see ! I'll have the matter taken to court,
and then I'll show you !
CHUBUKOV. To court ? You can take it to court, and
all that ! You can ! I know you ; you're just on the
look-out for a chance to go to court, and all that. . . .
You pettifogger ! All your people were like that ! All
of them ! tyi ,
LOMOV. Never mind about my people ! The Lomovs
have all been honourable people, and not one has ever been
tried for embezzlement, like your grandfather !
CHUBUKOV. You Lomovs have had lunacy in your family,
all of you !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. All, all, all !
CHUBUKOV. Your grandfather was a drunkard, and your
younger aunt, Nastasya Mihailovna, ran away with an
architect, and so on. . . .
LOMOV. And your mother was hump-backed. [Clutches
at his heart] Something pulling in my side. . . . My head.
. . . Help ! Water !
CHUBUKOV. Your father was a guaaling gambler !** ^
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. And there haven't been many
backbiters to equal your aunt !
LOMOV. My left foot has gone to sleep. . . . You're
an intriguer. . . . Oh, my heart ! . . . And it's an open
secret that before the last elections you bri . . . I can
see stars. . . . Where's my hat ?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It's low ! It's dishonest ! If*
mean !
CHUBUKOV. And you're just a malicious, double-faced
intriguer ! Yes !
50 THE PROPOSAL
LOMOV. Here's my hat. . . . My heart ! . . . Which
way ? Where's the door ? Oh ! ... I think I'm dying.
. . My foot's quite numb. . . . [Goes to the door.
CHUBUKOV. [Following him] And don't set foot in my
house again !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Take it to court ! We'll see !
LOMOV staggers out.
CHUBUKOV. Devil take him ! [Walks about in excitement. .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What a rascal ! What trust j
can one have in one's neighbours after that ! j
CHUBUKOV. The villain ! The scarecrow !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. The monster ! First he takes
our land and then he has the impudence to abuse us.
CHUBUKOV. And that blind hen, yes, that turnip-ghost
has the confounded cheek to make a proposal, and so on ! n
What 1 A proposal ! !/
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What proposal ?
CHUBUKOV. Why, he came here so as to propose to you \
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. To propose ? To me ? Why ;
didn't you tell me so before ?
CHUBUKOV. So he dresses up in evening clothes. The
stuffed sausage ! The wizen-faced frump !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. To propose to me ? Ah ! [Fall a
into an easy-chair and wails] Bring him back ! Back I
Ah ! Bring him here.
CHUBUKOV. Bring whom here ?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Quick, quick ! I'm ill ! Fetch
him ! [Hysterics.
CHUBUKOV. What's that ? What's the matter with
you ? [ClutcJies at his head] Oh, unhappy man that I am !
I'll shoot myself ! I'll hang mvself ! We've done for
her!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I'm dying ! Fetch him !
THE PROPOSAL 51
CHUBUKOV. Tfoo ! At once. Don't yell !
Runs out. A pause. NATALYA STEPANOVNA wails.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What have they done to me !
Fetch him back ! Fetch him ! [A pause.
CHUBUKOV runs in.
CHUBUKOV. He's coming, and so on, devil take him !
Ouf ! Talk to him yourself ; I don't want to. ...
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. [Wails] Fetch him!
CHUBUKOV. [Yells] He's coming, I tell you. Oh,
what a burden, Lord, to be _the father of a grown-up
daughter ! I'll cut my throat ! I will, indeed ! We
cursed him, abused him, drove him out, and it's all you
. . . you!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. No, it was you !
CHUBUKOV. I tell you it's not my fault. [LoMOV appears
at the door] Now you talk to him yourself [Exit.
LOMOV enters, exhausted.
LOMOV. My heart's palpitating awfully. . . . My foot's
gone to sleep. . . . There's something keeps pulling in
my side. . . .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Forgive us, Ivan Vassilevitch,
\vc were all a little heated. ... I remember now : Oxen
Meadows really are yours.
LOMOV. My heart's beating awfully. . . . Mv AT^adows.
. . . My eyebrows are both twitching. . . .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. The Meadows are yours, yes,
yours. ... Do sit down. . . . [They sit] We were
wrong. . . .
LOMOV. I did it on principle. . . . My land is worth
little to me, but the principle . . .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA.- Yes, the principle, just so. . . .
Now let's talk of something else.
LOMOV. The more so as I have evidence. My aunt's
52 THE PROPOSAL
grandmother gave the land to your father's grandfather's
peasants . . .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Yes, yes, let that pass. . . .
[Aside] I wish I knew how to get him started. . . . [Aloud]
Are you going to start shooting soon ?
LOMOV. I'm thinking of having a go at the blackcock,
honoured Natalya Stepanovna, after the harvest. Oh,
have you heard ? Just think, what a misfortune I've had !
My dog Guess, whom you know, has gone lame.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What a pity ! Why ?
LOMOV. I don't know. . . . Must have got twisted, or
bitten by some other dog. . . . [Sighs] My very best dog,
to say nothing of the expense. I gave Mironov 125 roubles
for him.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It was too much, Ivan Vassile-
vitch.
LOMOV. I think it was very cheap. He's a first-rate
dog.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa gave 85 roubles for his
Squeezer, and Squeezer is heaps better than Guess !
LOMOV. Squeezer better than Guess ? What an idea !
[Laughs] Squeezer better than Guess !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Of course he's better ! Of
course, Squeezer is young, he may develop a bit, but on
points and pedigree he's better than anything that even
Volchanetsky has got.
LOMOV. Excuse me, Natalya Stepanovna, but you forget
that he is 'overshot, and an ovefehot always means the dog
is a bad hunter ! ^fc
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Overshot, is he ? The first
time I hear it !
LOMOV. I assure you that his lower jaw is shorter than
the upper.
THE PROPOSAL 53
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Have you measured ?
LOMOV. Yes. He's all right at following, of course, but
if you want him to get hold of anything . . .
NATALYA IVANOVNA. In the first place, our Squeezer is
a thoroughbred animal, the son of Harness and Chisels,
while there's no getting at the pedigree of your dog
at all. . . . He's old and as ugly as a worn-out cab-
horse. fc
LOMOV. He is old, but I wouldn't take five -Squeezers
for him. . . . Why, how can you ? . . . kiess>is a dog ;
as for Squeezer, well, it's too funny to argue. . . . Anybody
you like has a dog as good as Squeezer . . . you may find
them under every bush almost. Twenty-five roubles
would be a handsome price to pay for him.
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. There's some demon of contra-
diction in you to-day, Ivan Vassilevitch. First you pretend
that the Meadows are yours ; now, that Guess is better
than Squeezer I don't like people who don't say what
they mean, because you know perfectly well that Squeezer
is a hundred times better than your -sSy^Guess/i^Why
do you want to say it isn't ?
LOMOV. I see, Natalya Stepanovna, that you consider
me either blind or a fool. You must realize that ^Squeezer
is overshot !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It's not true.
LOMOV. He is !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. It's not true !
LOMOV. Why snout, uuulam <
N VTALYA STEPANOVNA. Why talk rot ? It's awful !
It's time your Guess was shot, and you compare him with
Squeezer !
LOMOV. Excuse me ; I cannot continue this discussion
my heart is palpitating.
THE PROPOSAL
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I've noticed that those hunters
argue most who know least.
LOMOV. Madam, please be silent. . . . My heart is going
to pieces. . . . [Shouts] Shut up ! ^
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I shan't shut up until you
acknowledge that Squeezer is a hundred times better than
your Guess !
LOMOV. A hundred times worse! Be hanged to your
Squeezer ! ^Hie head . . . eyes . . . shoulder . . .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. There's no need to hang your
silly Guess ; he's half-dead already !
LOMOV. [W eeps] Shut up ! My heart's bursting !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I shan't shut up.
Enter CHUBUKOV.
CHUBUKOV. What's the matter now ?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Papa, tell us truly, which is the
better dog, our Squeezer or his Guessf i
LOMOV. Stepan Stepanovitch, I implore you to tell me
just one thing : is your Squeezer overshot or not ? Yes
or no ?
CHUBUKOV. And suppose he is ? What does it matter ?
He's the best dog in the district for all that, and so on.
LOMOV. But isn't my Guess better ? Really, now ?
CHUBUKOV. Don't excite yourself, my precious one. . . .
Allow me. . . . Your Guess certainly has his good points.
. . . He's pure-bred, firm on his feet, has well-sprung ribs,
and all that. But, my dear man, if you want to know the
truth, that dog has two defects : he's old and he's short
in the muzzle.
LOMOV. Excuse me, my heart. . . . Let's take the
facts. . . . You will remember that on the Marusinsky
hunt my Guess ran neck-and-neck with the Count's dog,
while your Squeezer was left a whole verst behind.
THE PROPOSAL r>5
CHUBUKUV. He got left behind because the Count"-
whipper-in hit him with his whip.
LOMOV. And with good reason:'-' The dogs are running
after a fox, when Squeezer goes and starts worrying a
sheep !
CHUBUKOV. It's not true ! . . . My dear fellow, I'm
very liable to lose my temper, and so, just because of that,
let's stop arguing. You started because everybody is
always jealous of everybody else's dogs. Yes, we're all
like that ! You too, sir, aren't blameless ! You no sooner
notice that some dog is better than your Guess than you
begin with this, that . . . and the other . . . and all
that. ... I remember everything !
LOMOV. I remember too !
CHUBUKOV. [Teasing him] I remember, too. . . . What
do you remember ?
LOMOV. My heart . . . my foot's gone to sleep. . . .
I can't . . .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. [Teasing] My heart. . . . What
sort of a hunter are you ? You ought to go and lie on the
kitchen oven and catch blackbeetles, not go after foxes !
My heart !
CHUBUKOV. Yes really, what sort of a hunter are you,
anyway ? You ought to sit at home with your palpita-
tions, and not go tracking animals. You could go hunting,
but you only go to argue with people and interfere with
their dogs and so on. Let's change the subject in case
I lose my temper. You're not a hunter at all, anyway !
LOMOV. And are you a hunter ? You only go hunting
to get in with the Count and to intrigue. . . . Oh, my
heart ! . . . You're an intriguer !
CHUBUKOV. What ? I an intriguer ? [Shouts] Shut up !
LOMOV. Intriguer !
56 THE PROPOSAL
CHUBUKOV. Boy ! Pup !
LOMOV. Old rat ! Jesuit !
CHUBUKOV. Shut up or I'll shoot you like a partridge !
LOMOV. Everybody knows that oh my heart ! your
late wife used to beat you. . . . My feet . . . temples . . .
sparks. ... I fall, I fall !
CHUBUKOV. And you're under the slipper of your house-
keeper !
LOMOV. There, there, there . . . my heart's burst !
My shoulder's come off. ... Where is my shoulder ? . . .
I die. [Falls into an armchair] A doctor ! [Faints.
CHUBUKOV. Boy ! Milksop! "Fe^l! I'm sick ! [Drinks
water} Sick !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. What sort of a hunter are you ?
You can't even sit on a horse ! [To her father] Papa, what's
the matter with him ? Papa ! Look, papa ! [Screams]
Ivan Vassilevitch ! He's dead !
CHUBUKOV. I'm sick ! . . . I can't breathe ! . . . Air !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. He's dead. [Pulls LOMOV'S
sleeve] Ivan Vassilevitch ! Ivan Vassilevitch ! What
have you done to me ? He's dead. [Falls into an arm-
chair] A doctor, a doctor ! [Hysterics.
CHUBUKOV. Oh ! ... What is it ? What's the
matter ?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. [Wails] He's dead . . . dead !
CHUBUKOV. Who's dead ? [Looks at LOMOV] So he is !
My word ! Water ! A doctor ! [Lifts a tumbler to LOMOV'S
mouth] Drink this ! . . . No, he doesn't drink. ... It
means he's dead, and all that. . . . I'm the most unhappy
of men ! Why don't I put a bullet into my brain ? Why
haven't I cut my throat yet ? What am I waiting for ?
Give me a knife ! Give me a pistol ! [LOMOV moves] He
THE PROPOSAL 57
seems to be coming round. . . . Drink some water ! That's
right. . . .
LOMOV. I see stars . . . mist. . . . Where am I ?
( HUBUKOV. Hurry up and get married and well, to the
devil with you ! She's willing ! [He puts LOMOV'S hand
into his daughter's] She's willing and all that. I give you
my blessing and so on. Only leave me in peace !
LOMOV. [Getting up] Eh ? What ? To whom ?
CHUBUKOV. She's willing ! Well ? Kiss and be damned
to you !
NATAL YA STEPANOVNA. [Wails] He's alive. . . . Yes,
yes. I'm willing. . . .
CHUBUKOV. Kiss each other ! |
LOMOV. Eh ? Eiis- Whom ? [They kiss] Very nice, to*.
Excuse me, what's it all about ? Oh, now I understand
. . . my heart . . . stars . . . I'm happy. Natalya
Stepanovna. . . . [Kisses her hand] My foot's gone to
sleep. . . .
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I ... I'm happy too. . . .
CHUBUKOV. What a weight off my shoulders. . . . Ouf !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. But . . . still you will admit
now that Guess is worse than Squeezer.
LOMOV. Better !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Worse!
CHUBUKOV. Well, that's a way to start your family bliss !
Have some champagne !
LOMOV. He's better !
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Worse ! worse ! worse !
CHUBUKOV. [Trying to shout her down] Champagne !
Champagne !
Curtain.
THE WEDDING
CHARACTERS
EVDOKIM ZAHAROVITCH ZHIGALOV, a retired Civil Servant
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA, his wife
DASHENKA, their daughter
EPAMINOND MAXIMOVITCH APLOMBOV, Dashenka's bride-
groom
FYODOR YAKOVLEVITCH REVUNOV-KARAULOV, a retired
captain
ANDREY ANDREYEVITCH NUNIN, an insurance agent
ANNA MARTINOVNA ZMEYUKINA, a midwife, aged 30, in
a brilliantly red dress
IVAN MIHAILOVITCH YATS, a telegraphist
HARLAMPI SPIRIDONOVITCH DIMBA, a Greek confectioner
DMITRI STEPANOVITCH MOZGOVOY, a sailor of the Imperial
Navy (Volunteer Fleet)
GROOMSMEN, GENTLEMEN, WAITERS, ETC.
The scene is laid in one of the rooms of Andronov's
Restaurant
THE WEDDING^
A brilliantly illuminated room. A large table, laid for supper.
Waiters in dress-jackets are fussing round the table.
An orchestra behind the scene is playing the music of the
last figure of a quadrille. f
ANNA MARTINOVNA ZMEYUKINA, YAT<B, and a GROOMSMAN
cross the stage.
$ J
ZMEYUKINA. No, no, no !
YATB. [Following her] Have pity on us ! Have pity !
ZMEYUKINA. No, no, no !
GROOMSMAN. [Chasing them] You can't go on like this !
Where are you off to ? What about the grand ronde ?
Grand ronde, s'il vous plait ! [They all go off.
Enter NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA and APLOMBOV.
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. You had much better be
dancing than upsetting me with your speeches.
APLOMBOV. I'm not a Spinosa or anybody of that sort,
to go making figures-of-eight with my legs. I am a serious
man, and I have a character, and I see no amusement in
empty pleasures. But it isn't just a matter of dances.
You must excuse me, maman, but there is a good deal in
your behaviour which I am unable to understand. For
instance, in addition to objects of domestic importance,
you promised also to give me, with your daughter, two
lottery tickets. Where are they ?
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVXA. My head's aching a little . . .
61
62 THE WEDDING
I expect it's on account of the weather. ... If only it
thawed !
APLOMBOV. You won't get out of it like that. I only
found out to-day that those tickets are in pawn. You
must excuse me, maman, but it's only swindlers who behave
like that. I'm not doing this out of egoisticism * I don't
want your tickets but on principle ; and I don't allow
myself to be done by anybody. I have made your daughter
happy, and if you don't give me the tickets to-day I'll
make short work of her. I'm an honourable man !
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. [Looks round the table and
counts up the covers] One, two, three, four, five . . .
A WAITER. The cook asks if you would like the ices
served with rum, madeira, or by themselves ?
APLOMBOV. With rum. And tell the manager that
there's not enough wine. Tell him to prepare some more
Haut Sauterne. [To NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA] You also
promised and agreed that a general was to be here to supper
And where is he ?
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. That isn't my fault, my dear.
APLOMBOV. Whose fault, then ?
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. It's Andrey Andreyevitch's
fault. . . . Yesterday he came to see us and promised to
bring a perfectly real general. [Sighs] I suppose he couldn't
find one anywhere, or he'd have brought him. . . . You
think we don't mind ? We'd begrudge our child nothing.
A general, of course . . .
APLOMBOV. But there's more. . . . Everybody, includ-
ing yourself, maman, is aware of the fact that Yats, that
telegraphist, was after Dashenka before I proposed to her.
Why did you invite him ? Surely you knew it would be
unpleasant for me ?
* So in the original.
THE WEDDING 63
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. Oh, how can you ?
nond Maximovitch was married himself only the other
day, and you've already tired me and Dashenka out with
your talk. What will you be like in a year's time ? You
iiorrid, really horrid.
APLOMBOV. Then you don't like to hear the truth ? Aha
Oh, oh ! Then behave honourably. I only want you to
do une thing, be honourable !
Couples dancing the grand ronde come in at one door
and out at the other end. The first couple are
DASHENKA with one of the GROOMSMEN. The last
are YATS and ZMEYUKINA. These two remain
behind. ZHIGALOV and DIMBA enter and go up
to the table.
GROOMSMAN. [Shouting] Promenade ! Messieurs, prome-
nade ! [Behind} Promenade !
[The dancers have all left the scene
YATS. [To ZMEYUKINA] Have pity! Have pity, adorable
Anna Martinovna.
ZMEYUKINA. Oh, what a man ! . . . I've already told
you that I've no voice to-day.
YATS. I implore you to sing ! Just one note ! Have
pity ! Just one note !
ZMEYUKINA. I'm tired of you. . . .
[Sits and fans herself.
YATS. No, you're simply heartless ! To be so cruel
if I may express myself and to have such a beauti-
ful, beautiful voice ! With such a voice, if you will
fen-give my using the word, you shouldn't be a mid-
wife, but sing at concerts, at public gatherings ! For
example, how divinely you do that fioritura . . . that
. . . [Sings] " I loved you ; love was vain then. . . ."
Exquisite !
64 THE WEDDING
ZMEYUKINA. [Sings] " I loved you, and may love again."
Is that it ?
YATS. That's it! Beautiful!
ZMEYUKINA. No, I've no voice to-day. . . . There, wave
this fan for me ... it's hot ! [To APLOMBOV] Epaminond
Maximovitch, why are you so melancholy ? A bridegroom
shouldn't be ! Aren't you ashamed of yourself, you
wretch ? Well, what are you so thoughtful about ?
APLOMBOV. Marriage is a serious step ! Everything
must be considered from all sides, thoroughly.
ZMEYUKINA. What beastly sceptics you all are ! I feel
quite suffocated with you all around. . . . Give me atmo-
sphere ! Do you hear ? Give me atmosphere !
[Sings a few notes.
YATS. Beautiful ! Beautiful !
ZMEYUKINA. Fan me, fan me, or I feel I shall have a
heart attack in a minute. Tell me, please, why do I feel
so suffocated ?
YATS. It's because you're sweating. . . .
ZMEYUKINA. Too, how vulgar you are ! Don't dare to
use such words !
YATS. Beg pardon ! Of course, you're used, if I may
say so, to aristocratic society and . . .
ZMEYUKINA. Oh, leave me alone Give me poetry ?
delight ! Fan me, fan me !
ZHIGALOV. [To DIMBA] Let's have another, what ?
[Pours out] One can always drink. So long only, Harlampi
Spiridonovitch, as one doesn't forget one's business. Drink
and be merry. . . . And if you can drink at somebody
else's expense, then why not drink ? You can drink. . . .
Your health ! [They drink] And do you have tigers in
Greece ?
DIMBA. Yes.
THE WEDDING 65
ZHIGALOV. And lions ?
DIMBA. And lions too. In Russia zere's nussing, and
in Greece zere's everysing my fazer and uncle and
brozeres and here zere's nussing.
ZHIGALOV. H'm. . . . And are there whales in Greece ?
DIMBA. Yes, everysing.
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. [To her husband] What are
they all eating and drinking like that for ? It's time for
everybody to sit down to supper. Don't keep on shoving
your fork into the lobsters. . . . They're for the general.
He may come yet. . . .
ZHIGALOV. And are there lobsters in Greece ?
DIMBA. Yes . . . zere is everysing.
ZHIGALOV. Hm. . . . And Civil Servants.
ZMEYUKINA. I can imagine what the atmosphere is like
in Greece !
ZHIGALOV. There must be a lot of swindling. The
Greeks are just like the Armenians or gipsies. They sell
you a sponge or a goldfish and all the time they are looking
out for a chance of getting something extra out of you.
Let's have another, what ?
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. What do you want to go on
having another for ? It's time everybody sat down to
supper. It's past eleven.
ZHIGALOV. If it's time, then it's time. Ladies and
gentlemen, please ! [Shouts] Supper ! Young people !
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. Dear visitors, please be
seated !
ZMEYUKINA. [Sitting down at the table] Give me poetry.
" And he, the rebel, seeks the storm,
As if the storm can give him peace."
Give me the storm !
66 THE WEDDING
YATS. [Aside] Wonderful woman ! I'm in love ! Up
to my ears !
Enter DASHENKA, MOZGOVOY, GROOMSMEN, various
ladies and gentlemen) etc. They all noisily seat
themselves at the table. There is a minute's pause,
while the band plays a march.
MOZGOVOY. [Rising] Ladies and gentlemen ! I must
tell you this. . . . We are going to have a great many
toasts and speeches. Don't let's wait, but begin at once.
Ladies and gentlemen, the newly married !
The band plays a flourish. Cheers. Glasses are
touched. APLOMBOV and DASHENKA kiss each
other.
YATS. Beautiful ! Beautiful ! I must say, ladies and
gentlemen, giving honour where it is due, that this room
and the accommodation generally are splendid ! Excel-
lent, wonderful ! Only you know, there's one thing we
haven't got electric light, if I may say so ! Into every
country electric light has already been introduced, only
Russia lags behind.
ZHIGALOV. [Meditatively] Electricity . . . h'm. ... In
my opinion electric lighting is just a swindle. . . . They
put a live coal in and think you don't see them ! No, if
you want a light, then you don't take a coal, but something
real, something special, that you can get hold of ! You
must have a fire, you understand, which is natural, not
just an invention !
YATS. If you'd ever seen an electric battery, and how
it's made up, you'd think differently.
ZHIGALOV. Don't want to see one. It's a swindle, a fraud
on the public. . . . They want to squeeze our last
breath out of us. ... We know then, these . . . And,
young man, instead of defending a swindle, you would be
THE WEDDING 67
much better occupied if you had another yourself and
poured out some for other people yes !
APLOMBOV. I entirely agree with you, papa. Why
start a learned discussion ? I myself have no objection to
talking about every possible scientific discovery, but this
ran't the time for all that ! [To DASHENKA] What do you
think, ma ch&re ?
DASHENKA. They want to show how educated they are,
and so they always talk about things we can't understand.
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. Thank God, we've lived our
time without being educated, and here we are marrying
off our third daughter to an honest man. And if you
think we're uneducated, then what do you want to come
here for ? Go to your educated friends !
YATS. I, Nastasya Timofeyevna, have always held your
family in respect, and if I did start talking about electric
lighting it doesn't mean that I'm proud. I'll drink, to
show you. I have always sincerely wished Daria Evdo-
kimovna a good husband. In these days, Nastasya Timo-
feyevna, it is difficult to find a good husband. Nowadays
everybody is on the look-out for a marriage where there is
profit, money. . . .
APLOMBOV. That's a hint !
YATS. [His courage failing] I wasn't hinting at anything.
. . . Present company is always excepted. ... I was . . .
only in general. . . . Please ! Everybody knows that
you're marrying for love . . . the dowry is quite trifling.
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. No, it isn't trifling ! You be
careful what you say. Besides a thousand roubles of good
money, we're giving three dresses, the bed, and all the
furniture. You won't find another dowry like that in a
hurry !
YATS I didn't mean . . . The furniture's splendid, of
68 THE WEDDING
course, and . . . and the dresses, but I never hinted at
what they are getting offended at.
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. Don't you go making hints.
We respect you on account of your parents, and we've
invited you to the wedding, and here you go talking. If
you knew that Epaminond Maximovitch was marrying for
profit, why didn't you say so before ? [Tearfully} I brought
her up, I fed her, I nursed her. ... I cared for her more
than if she was an emerald jewel, my little girl. . . .
APLOMBOV. And you go and believe him ? Thank you
so much ! I'm very grateful to you ! [To YATS] And as
for you, Mr. Yats, although you are acquainted with me,
I shan't allow you to behave like this in another's house.
Please get out of this !
YATS. What do you mean ?
APLOMBOV. I want you to be as straightforward as I am !
In short, please get out ! [Band plays a flourish
THE GENTLEMEN. Leave him alone ! Sit down ! Is it
worth it ! Let him be ! Stop it now !
YATS. I never ... I ... I don't understand. . . .
Please, I'll go. . . . Only you first give me the five roubles
which you borrowed from me last year on the strength of
a pique, waistcoat, if I may say so. Then I'll just have
another drink and ... go, only give me the money first.
VARIOUS GENTLEMEN. Sit down ! That's enough ! Is
it worth it, just for such trifles ?
A GROOMSMAN. [Shouts] The health of the bride's
parents, Evdokim Zaharitch and Nastasya Timofeyevna !
[Band plays a flourish. Cheers.
ZHIGALOV. [Bows in all directions, in great emotion} I
thank you ! Dear guests ! I am very grateful to you for
not having forgotten and for having conferred this honour
upon us without being standoffish And you must not
THE WEDDING 69
think that I'm a rascal, or that I'm trying to swindle
anybody. I'm speaking from my heart from the purity
of my soul ! I wouldn't deny anything to good people !
We thank you very humbly ! [Kisses.
DASHENKA. [To her mother] Mama, why are you crying ?
I'm so happy !
APLOMBOV. Mamam is disturbed at your coming separa-
tion. But I should advise her rather to remember the last
talk we had.
YATS. Don't cry, Nastasya Timofeyevna ! Just think
what are human tears, anyway ? Just petty psychiatry,
and nothing more !
ZHIGALOV. And are there any red-haired men in Greece ?
DIME A. Yes, everysing is zere.
ZHIGALOV. But you don't have our kinds of mushroom.
DIMBA. Yes, we've got zem and everysing.
MOZGOVOY. Harlampi Spiridonovitch, it's your turn to
speak ! Ladies and gentlemen, a speech !
ALL. [To DIMBA] Speech ! speech ! Your turn !
DIMBA. Why ? I don't understand. . . . What is it !
ZMEYUKINA. No, no ! You can't refuse ! It's you
turn ! Get up !
DIMBA. [Gets up, confused] I can't say what . . . Zere's
Russia and zere's Greece. Zere's people in Russia and
people in Greece. . . . And zere's people swimming the
sea in karavs, which mean sips, and people on the land in
railway trains. I understand. We are Greeks and you
arc Russians, and I want nussing. ... I can tell you . . .
Russia and zere's Greece . . .
Enter NUNIN.
NUNIN. Wait, ladies and gentlemen, don't eat now !
Wait! Just one minute, Nastasya Timofeyevna! Just
come here, if you don't mind ! [Takes NAST
70 THE WEDDING
TIMOFEYEVNA aside, puffing] Listen. . . . The General's
coming ... I found one at last. . . . I'm simply worn
out. ... A real General, a solid one old, you know, aged
perhaps eighty, or even ninety.
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. When is he coming ?
NUNIN. This minute. You'll be grateful to me all your
life.*
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. You're not deceiving me,
Andrey darling ?
NUNIN. Well, now, am I a swindler ? You needn't
worry !
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. [Sighs] One doesn't like to
spend money for nothing, Andrey darling !
NUNIN. Don't you worry ! He's not a general, he's a
dream ! [Raises his voice] I said to him : " You've quite
forgotten us, your Excellency ! It isn't kind of your
Excellency to forget your old friends ! Nastasya Timo-
feyevna," I said to him, " she's very annoyed with you
about it ! " [Goes and sits at the table] And he says to me :
" But, my friend, how can I go when I don't know the
bridegroom ? " " Oh, nonsense, your excellency, why
stand on ceremony ? The bridegroom," I said to him,
" he's a fine fellow, very free and easy. He's a valuer,"
I said, " at the Law courts, and don't you think, your
excellency, that he's some rascal, some knave of hearts.
Nowadays," I said to him, " even decent women are
employed at the Law courts." He slapped me on the
shoulder, we smoked a Havana cigar each, and now he's
coming. . . . Wait a little, ladies and gentlemen, don't
eat. .
* A few lines have been omitted : they refer to the " General's '
,nk and its civil equiv
is no corresponding fc
a second-class captain.
rank and its civil equivalent in words for which the English language
has no corresponding terms. The " General " is an ex-naval officer,
THE WEDDING 71
APLOMBOV. When's he coming ?
NUNIN. This minute. When I left him he was already
t putting on his goloshes. Wait a little, ladies and gentlemen,
don't eat yet.
APLOMBOV. The band should be told to play a march.
NUNIN. [Shouts] Musicians ! A march !
[The band plays a march for a minute.
A WAITER. Mr. Revunov-Karaulov !
ZHIGALOV, NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA, and NUNIN
run to meet him. Enter REVUNOV-KARAULOV.
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. {Bowing} Please come in, your
excellency ! So glad you've come !
REVUNOV. Awfully !
ZHIGALOV. We, your excellency, aren't celebrities, we
aren't important, but quite ordinary, but don't think on
that account that there's any fraud. We put good people
into the best place, we begrudge nothing. Please !
REVUNOV. Awfully glad !
NUNIN. Let me introduce to you, your excellency, the
bridegroom, Epaminond Maximovitch Aplombov, with his
newly born ... I mean his newly married wife! Ivan
Mihailovitch Yats, employed on the telegraph ! A foreigner
of Greek nationality, a confectioner by trade, Harlampi
Spiridonovitch Dimba ! Osip Lukitch Babelmandebsky !
And so on, and so on. . . . The rest are just trash. Sit
down, your excellency !
REVUNOV. Awfully ! Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,
I just want to say two words to Andrey. {Takes NUNIN
aside] I say, old man, I'm a little put out. . . . Why do
you call me your excellency ? I'm not a general ! I
don't rank as the equivalent of a colonel, even.
NUNIN. [Whispers] I know, only, Fyodor Yakovlevitch,
be a good man and let us call you your excellency ! The
72 THE WEDDING
family here, you see, is patriarchal ; it respects the aged,
it likes rank.
REVUNOV. Oh, if it's like that, very well. . . . [Goes
to the table] Awfully !
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. Sit down, your excellency !
Be so good as to have some of this, your excellency ! Only
forgive us for not being used to etiquette ; we're plain
people !
REVUNOV. [Not hearing] What? Hm . . . yes. [Pause]
Yes. ... In the old days everybody used to live simply
and was happy. In spite of my rank, I am a man who
lives plainly. To-day Andrey comes to me and asks me
to come here to the wedding. " How shall I go," I said,
" when I don't know them ? It's not good manners ! "
But he says : " They are good, simple, patriarchal people,
glad to see anybody." Well, if that's the case . . . why
not ? Very glad to come. It's very dull for me at home
by myself, and if my presence at a wedding can make
anybody happy, then I'm delighted to be here. . . .
ZHIGALOV. Then that's sincere, is it, your excellency ?
I respect that ! I'm a plain man myself, without any
deception, and I respect others who are like that. Eat,
your excellency !
APLOMBOV. Is it long since you retired, your excellency ?
REVUNOV. Eh ? Yes, yes. . . . Quite true. Yes. . . .
But, excuse me, what is this ? The fish is sour . . . and
the bread is sour. I can't eat this ! [APLOMBOV and
DASHENKA kiss each other] He, he, he ... Your health !
[Pause] Yes. ... In the old days everything was simple
and everybody was glad. ... I love simplicity. ... I'm
an old man. I retired in 1865. I'm 72. Yes, of course,
in my younger days it was different, but [Sees MOZGOVOY]
You there ... a sailor, are you ?
THE WEDDING 73
MOZGOVOY. Yes, just so.
REVUNOV. Aha, so ... yes. The navy means hard
work. There's a lot to think about and get a headache
over. Every insignificant word has, so to speak, its special
meaning ! For instance, " Hoist her top-sheets and main-
sail ! " What's it mean ? A sailor can tell ! He, he !
With almost mathematical precision !
NUNIN. The health of his excellency Fyodor Yakovlevitch
Revunov-Karaulov ! [Band plays a flourish. Cheers.
YATS. You, your excellency, have just expressed yourself
on the subject of the hard work involved in a naval career.
But is telegraphy any easier ? Nowadays, your excel-
lency, nobody is appointed to the telegraphs if he cannot
read and write French and German. But the transmission
of telegrams is the most difficult thing of all. Awfully
difficult ! Just listen.
Taps with his fork on the table, like a telegraphic
transmitter.
REVUNOV. What does that mean ?
YATS. It means, " I honour you, your excellency, for
your virtues." You think it's easy ? Listen now. [Taps.
REVUNOV. Louder; I can't hear. . . .
YATS. That means, " Madam, how happy I am to hold
you in my embraces ! "
REVUNOV. What madam are you talking about ? Yes.
. . . [To MOZGOVOY] Yes, if there's a head-wind you
must . . . let's see ... you must hoist your foretop
halyards and topsail halyards ! The order is : " On the
cross-trees to the foretop halyards and topsail halyards "
. . . and at the same time, as the sails get loose, you take
hold underneath of the foresail and fore-topsail halyards,
stays and braces.
A GROOMSMAN. [Rising] Ladies and gentlemen . . .
74 THE WEDDING
REVUNOV. [Cutting him short] Yes . . . there are a
great many orders to give. " Furl the fore- topsail and the
fore-top-gallant sail ! ! " Well, what does that mean ?
It's very simple ! It means that if the top and top-gallant
sails are lifting the halyards, they must level the foretop
and foretop-gallant halyards on the hoist and at the same
time the top-gallants braces, as needed, are loosened accord-
ing to the direction of the wind . . .
NUNIN. [To REVUNOV] Fyodor Yakovlevitch, Mme.
Zhigalov asks you to talk about something else. It's very
dull for the guests, who can't understand. . . .
REVUNOV. What ? Who's dull ? [To MOZGOVOY] Young
man ! Now suppose the ship is lying by the wind, on the
starboard tack, under full sail, and you've got to bring
her before the wind. What's the order ? Well, first
you whistle up above ! He, he !
NUNIN. Fyodor Yakovlevitch, that's enough. Eat some-
thing.
REVUNOV. As soon as the men are on deck you give the
order, " To your places ! " What a life ! You give orders,
and at the same time you've got to keep your eyes on the
sailors, who run about like flashes of lightning and get the
sails and braces right. And at last you can't restrain
yourself, and you shout, " Good children ! "
[He chokes and coughs.
A GROOMSMAN. [Making haste to use the ensuing 'pause to
advantage] On this occasion, so to speak, on the day on
which we have met together to honour our dear . . .
REVUNOV. [Interrupting] Yes, you've got to remember
all that ! For instance, " Hoist the topsail halyards.
Lower the topsail gallants ! "
THE GROOMSMAN. [Annoyed] Why does he keep on inter-
rupting ? We shan't get through a single speech like that !
THE WEDDING 75
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. We are dull people, your
excellency, and don't understand a word of all that, but
if you were to tell us something appropriate . . .
REVUNOV. [Not hearing] I've already had supper, thank
you. Did you say there was goose ? Thanks . . . yes.
I've remembered the old days. . . . It's pleasant, young
man ! You sail on the sea, you have no worries, and . . .
[In an excited tone of voice] do you remember the joy of
tacking ? Is there a sailor who doesn't glow at the memory
of that manoeuvre ? As soon as the word is given and the
whistle blown and the crew begins to go up it's as if an
electric spark has run through them all. From the captain
to the cabin-boy, everybody's excited.
ZMEYUKINA. How dull ! How dull !
[General murmur.
REVLTNOV. [Who has not heard it properly] Thank you,
I've had supper. [With enthusiasm] Everybody's ready,
and looks to the senior officer. He gives the command :
" Stand by, gallants and topsail braces on the starboard
side, main and counter-braces to port ! " Everything's
done in a twinkling. Top-sheets and jib-sheets are pulled
. . taken to starboard. [Stands up] The ship takes the
wind and at last the sails fill out. The senior officer orders,
" To the braces," and himself keeps his eye on the main-
sail, and when at last this sail is filling out and the ship
begins to turn, he yells at the top of his voice, " Let go
the braces ! Loose the main halyards ! " Everything
flies about, there's a general confusion for a moment
and everything is done without an error. The ship has
been tacked !
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. [Exploding] General, your
manners. . . . You ought to be ashamed of yourself, at
your age !
76 THE WEDDING
REVUNOV. Did you say sausage ? No, I haven't had
any . . . thank you.
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. [Loudly] I say you ought to be
ashamed of yourself at your age ! General, your manners
are awful !
NUNIN. [Confused] Ladies and gentlemen, is it worth
it ? Really . . .
REVUNOV. In the first place, I'm not a general, but a
second-class naval captain, which, according to the table
of precedence, corresponds to a lieutenant-colonel.
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. If you're not a general, then
what did you go and take our money for ? We never paid
you money to behave like that !
REVUNOV. [Upset] What money?
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. You know what money. You
know that you got 25 roubles from Andrey Andreyevitch.
. . . [To NUNIN] And you look out, Andrey ! I never
asked you to hire a man like that !
NUNIN. There now ... let it drop. Is it worth it ?
REVUNOV. Paid . . . hired. . . . What is it ?
APLOMBOV. Just let me ask you this. Did you receive
25 roubles from Andrey Andreyevitch ?
REVUNOV. What 25 roubles ? [Suddenly realizing] That's
what it is ! Now I understand it all. . . . How mean !
How mean !
APLOMBOV. Did you take the money ?
REVUNOV. I haven't taken any money ! Get away from
me ! [Leaves the table] How mean ! How low ! To insult
an old man, a sailor, an officer who has served long and
faithfully ! If you were decent people I could call some-
body out, but what can I do now ? [Absently] Where's the
door ? Which way do I go ? Waiter, show me the way
out ! Waiter ! [Going] How mean ! How low ! [Exit.
THE WEDDING 77
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. Andrey, where are those 25
roubles ?
NUNIN. Is it worth while bothering about such trifles ?
What does it matter 1 Everybody's happy here, and here
you go. ... [Shouts] The health of the bride and bride-
groom ! A march ! A march ! [The band plays a march]
The health of the bride and bridegroom !
ZMEYUKINA. I'm suffocating ! Give me atmosphere !
I'm suffocating with you all round me !
YATS. [In a transport of delight] My beauty ! My
beauty ! [Uproar.
A GROOMSMAN. [Trying to shouteverybody else down] Ladies
and gentlemen ! On this occasion, if I may say so . .
Curtain.
THE BEAR
CHARACTERS
ELENA IVANOVNA POPOVA, a landowning little widow,
with dimples on her cheeks
GRIGORY STEPANOVITCH SMIRNOV, a middle-aged
landowner
LUKA, Popova's aged footman
'
THE BEAR
A drawing-room in POPOVA'S house.
POPOVA is in deep mourning and has her eyes fixed on a
photograph. LUKA is haranguing her.
LUKA. It isn't right, madam. . . . You're just destroy-
ing yourself. The maid and the cook have gone off fruit
picking, every living being is rejoicing, even the cat under-
stands how to enjoy herself and walks about in the yard,
catching midges ; only you sit in this room all day, as if
this was a convent, and don't take any pleasure. Yes,
really ! I reckon it's a whole year that you haven't left
the house !
POPOVA. I shall never go out. . . . Why should I ?
My life is already at an end. He is in his grave, and
I have buried myself between four walls. . . . We are
both dead.
LUKA. Well, there you are ! Nicolai Mihailovitch is
dead, well, it's the will of God, and may his soul rest in
peace. . . . You've mourned him and quite right. But
you can't go on weeping and wearing mourning for ever.
My old woman died too, when her time came. Well ?
I grieved over her, I wept for a month, and that's enough
for her, but if I've got to weep for a whole age, well, the
old woman isn't worth it. [Sighs] You've forgotten all
your neighbours. You don't go anywhere, and you see
82 THEBEAR
nobody. We live, so to speak, like spiders, and never see
the light. The mice have eaten my livery. It isn't as
if there were no good people around, for the district's full
of them. There's a regiment quartered at Riblov, and the
officers are such beauties you can never gaze your fill
at them. And, every Friday, there's a ball at the camp,
and every day the soldier's band plays. . . . Eh, my
lady ! You're young and beautiful, with roses in your
cheek if you only took a little pleasure. Beauty won't
last long, you know. In ten years' time you'll want to
be a pea-hen yourself among the officers, but they won't
look at you, it will be too late.
POPOVA. [With determination] I must ask you never
to talk to me about it ! You know that when Nicolai
Mihailovitch died, life lost all its meaning for me. I vowed
never to the end of my days to cease to wear mourning,
or to see the light. . . . You hear ? Let his ghost see
how well I love him. . . . Yes, I know it's no secret to
you that he was often unfair to me, cruel, and . . . and
even unfaithful, but I shall be true till death, and show
him how I can love. There, beyond the grave, he will see
me as I was before his death. . . .
LUKA. Instead of talking like that you ought to go and
have a walk in the garden, or else order Toby or Giant
to be harnessed, and then drive out to see some of the
neighbours.
POPOVA. Oh ! [Weeps.
LUKA. Madam ! Dear madam ! What is it ? Bless
you !
POPOVA. He was so fond of Toby ! He always used to
ride on him to the Korchagins and Vlasovs. How well
he could ride ! What grace there was in his figure when
he pulled at the reins with all his strength ! Do you
THE BEAU 83
remember ? Toby, Toby ! Tell them to give him an extra
feed of oats.
LUKA. Yes, madam. [A bell rings noisily.
POPOVA. [Shaking] Who's that? Tell them that I
receive nobody.
LUKA. Yes, madam. [Exit.
POPOVA. [Looks at the photograph] You will see, Nicolas,
how I can love and forgive. . . . My love will die out with
me, only when this poor heart will cease to beat. [Laughs
through her tears] And aren't you ashamed ? I am a good
and virtuous little wife. I've locked myself in, and will
be true to you till the grave, and you . . . aren't you
med, you bad child? You deceived me, had rows
with me, left me alone for weeks on end ....
LUKA enters in consternation.
LUKA. Madam, somebody is asking for you. He wants
to see you. ...
POPOVA. But didn't you tell him that since the death
of my husband I've stopped receiving ?
LUKA. I did, but he wouldn't even listen; says that
it's a very pressing affair.
POPOVA. I do not re-ceive !
LUKA. I told him so, but the . . . the devil . . . curses
and pushes himself right in. ... He's in the dining-room
now.
POPOVA. [Annoyed] Very well, ask him in. ... What
manners ! [Exit LUKA] How these people annoy me !
What does he want of me ? Why should he disturb my
peace ? [Sighs] No, I see that I shall have to go into a
convent after all. [Thoughtfully] Yes, into a convent. . .
[Enter LUKA with SMIRNOV.
SMIRNOV. [To LUKA] You fool, you're too fond of
talking. ... Ass ! [Sees POPOVA and speaks with respect]
84 THEBEAR
Madam, I have the honour to present myself, I am Grigory
Stepanovitch Smirnov, landowner and retired lieutenant
of artillery ! I am compelled to disturb you on a very
pressing affair.
POPOVA. [Not giving him her hand] What do you want ?
SMIRNOV. Your late husband, with whom I had the
honour of being acquainted, died in my debt for one
thousand two hundred roubles, on two bills of exchange.
As I've got to pay the interest on a mortgage to-morrow,
I've come to ask you, madam, to pay me the money to-day.
POPOVA. One thousand two hundred. . . . And what
was my husband in debt to you for ?
SMIRNOV. He used to buy oats from me.
POPOVA. [Sighing, to LUKA] So don't you forget, Luka,
to give Toby an extra feed of oats. [Exit LUKA] If Nicolai
Mihailovitch died in debt to you, then I shall certainly pay
you, but you must excuse me to-day, as I haven't any
spare cash. The day after to-morrow my steward will
be back from town, and I'll give him instructions to settle
your account, but at the moment I cannot do as you
wish. . . . Moreover, it's exactly seven months to-day since
the death of my husband, and I'm in a state of mind which
absolutely prevents me from giving money matters my
attention.
SMIRNOV. And I'm in a state of mind which, if I don't pay
the interest due to-morrow, will force me to make a graceful
exit from this life feet f rst. They'll take my estate !
POPOVA. You'll have your money the day after to-morrow.
SMIRNOV. I don't want the money the day after to-
morrow, I want it to-day.
POPOVA. You must excuse me, I can't pay you.
SMIRNOV. And I can't wait till after to-morrow.
POPOVA. Well, what can I do, if I haven't the money now !
THEBEAR 85
SMIRNOV. You mean to say, you can't pay me ?
POPOVA. I can't.
SMIRNOV. Hm ! Is that the last word you've got to say ?
POPOVA. Yes, the last word.
SMIRNOV. The last word ? Absolutely your last ?
POPOVA. Absolutely.
SMIRNOV. Thank you so much. I'll make a note of it.
[Shrugs his shoulders] And then people want me to keep
calm ! I meet a man on the road, and he asks me :
" Why are you always so angry, Grigory Stepanovitch ? '*
But how on earth am I not to get angry ? I want the
money desperately. I rode out yesterday, early in the
morning, and called on all my debtors, and not a single
one of them paid up ! I was just about dead-beat after
it all, slept, goodness knows where, in some inn, kept by
a Jew, with a vodka-barrel by my head. At last I get
here, seventy versts from home, and hope to get some-
thing, and I am received by you with a " state of mind " !
How shouldn't I get angry.
POPOVA. I thought I distinctly said my steward will
pay you when he returns from town.
SMIRNOV. I didn't come to your steward, but to you !
What the devil, excuse my saying so, have I to do with
your steward !
POPOVA. Excuse me, sir, I am not accustomed to listen
to such expressions or to such a tone of voice. I want to
hear no more. [Makes a rapid exit.
SMIRNOV. Well, there ! " A state of mind." . . . "Hus-
band died seven months ago!" Must I pay the interest,
or mustn't I ? I ask you: Must I pay, or must I n<>' '.
Suppose your husband is dead, and you've got a state of
mind, and nonsense of that sort. . . . And your steward's
gone away somewhere, devil take him, what do you want
86 THEBEAR
me to do ? Do you think I can fly away from my creditors
in a balloon, or what ? Or do you expect me to go and
run my head into a brick wall ? I go to Grusdev and he
isn't at home, Yaroshevitch has hidden himself, I had
a violent row with Kuritsin and nearly threw him out of
the window, Mazugo has something the matter with his
bowels, and this woman has " a state of mind." Not one
of the swine wants to pay me ! Just because I'm too
gentle with them, because I'm a rag, just weak wax in
their hands ! I'm much too gentle with them ! Well,
just you wait ! You'll find out what I'm like ! I shan't
let you play about with me, confound it ! I shall jolly
well stay here until she pays ! Brr ! . . . How angry
I am to-day, how angry I am ! All my inside is quivering
with anger, and I can't even breathe. . - . . Foo, my word,
I even feel sick ! [Yells] Waiter !
Enter LUKA.
LUKA. What is it ?
SMIRNOV. Get me some kvass or water ! [Exit LUKA]
What a way to reason ! A man is in desperate need of
his money, and she won't pay it because, you see, she is
not disposed to attend to money matters ! . . . That's
real silly feminine logic. That's why I never did like,
and don't like now, to have to talk to women. I'd rather
sit on a barrel of gunpowder than talk to a woman.
Brr ! . . . I feel quite chilly and it's all on account of
that little bit of flufi ! I can't even see one of these
poetic creatures from a distance without breaking out into
a cold sweat out of sheer anger. I can't look at them.
[Enter LUKA with water.
LUKA. Madam is ill and will see nobody.
SMIRNOV. Get out ! [Exit LUKA] 111 and will see no-
body ! No, it's all right, you don't see me. . . . I'm
THE BEAR 87
going to stay and will sit here till you give ine the money.
You can be ill for a week, if you like, and I'll stay here
for a week. ... If you're ill for a year I'll stay for a
year. I'm going to get my own, my dear ! You don't
get at me with your widow's weeds and your dimpled
cheeks ! I know those dimples ! [Shouts through the
window] Simeon, take them out ! We aren't going away
at once ! I'm staying here ! Tell them in the stable to
give the horses some oats ! You fool, you've let the near
horse's leg get tied up in the reins again ! [Teasingly]
" Never mind. . . ." I'll give it you. " Never mind."
[Goes away from the window] Oh, it's bad. . . . The heat's
frightful, nobody pays up. I slept badly, and on top of
everything else here's a bit of fluff in mourning with " a
state of mind." . . . My head's aching. . . . Shall I have
some vodka, what ? Yes, I think I will. [Yells] Waiter !
Enter LUKA.
LUKA. What is it ?
SMIRNOV. A glass of vodka ! [Exit LUKA] Ouf ! [Sits
and inspects himself] I must say I look well ! Dust all
over, boots dirty, unwashed, unkempt, straw on my
waistcoat. . . . The dear lady may well have taken me
for a brigand. [Yawns] It's rather impolite to come into
a drawing-room in this state, but it can't be helped. . . .
I am not here as a visitor, but as a creditor, and there's
no dress specially prescribed for creditors. . . .
Enter LUKA with the vodka.
LUKA. You allow yourself to go very far, sir. . . .
SMIRNOV. [Angrily] What ?
LUKA. I ... er ... nothing ... I really . . .
SMIRNOV. Whom are you talking to ? Shut up !
LUKA. [Aside] The devil's come to stay. . . Bad luck
that brought him. . . . [Exit.
88 THEBEAR
SMIRNOV. Oh, how angry I am ! So angry that I think
I could grind the whole world to dust. ... I even feel
sick. . . . [Yells] Waiter!
Enter POPOVA.
POPOVA. [Her eyes downcast] Sir, in my solitude I have
grown unaccustomed to the masculine voice, and I can't
stand shouting. I must ask you not to disturb my peace.
SMIRNOV. Pay me the money, and I'll go.
POPOVA. I told you perfectly plainly ; I haven't any
money to spare ; wait until the day after to-morrow.
SMIRNOV. And I told you perfectly plainly I don't want
the money the day after to-morrow, but to-day. If you
don't pay me to-day, I'll have to hang myself to-morrow.
POPOVA. But what can I do if I haven't got the money ?
You're so strange !
SMIRNOV. Then you won't pay me now ? Eh ?
POPOVA. I can't. . . .
SMIRNOV. In that case I stay here and shall wait until
I get it. [Sits down] You're going to pay me the day after
to-morrow ? Very well ! I'll stay here until the day
after to-morrow. I'll sit here all the time. . . . [Jumps
up] I ask you : Have I got to pay the interest to-morrow,
or haven't I ? Or do you think I'm doing this for a joke ?
POPOVA. Please don't shout ! This isn't a stable !
SMIRNOV. I wasn't asking you about a stable, but
whether I'd got my interest to pay to-morrow or not ?
POPOVA. You don't know how to behave before women !
SMIRNOV. No, I do know how to behave before women !
POPOVA. No, you don't ! You're a rude, ill-bred man !
Decent people don't talk to a woman like that !
SMIRNOV. What a business ! How do you want me to
talk to you ? In French, or what ? [Loses his temper and
lisps] Madame, je vous prie. . . . How happy I am that
THE BEAR 89
you don't pay nie. . . . Ah, pardon. 1 have disturbed
you ! Such lovely weather to-day ! And how well you
look in mourning ! [Bows.
POPOVA. That's silly and rude.
SMIRNOV. [Teasing her] Silly and rude ! I don't know
how to behave before women ! Madam, in my time I've
seen more women than you've seen sparrows ! Three
times I've fought duels on account of women. I've refused
twelve women, and nine have refused me ! Yes ! There
was a time when I played the fool, scented myself, used
honeyed words, wore jewellery, made beautiful bows. . . .
I used to love, to suffer, to sigh at the moon, to get sour,
to thaw, to freeze. ... I used to love passionately, madly,
every blessed way, devil take me ; I used to chatter like
a magpie about emancipation, and wasted half my wealth
on tender feelings, but now you must excuse me ! You
won't get round me like that now ! I've had enough !
Black eyes, passionate eyes, ruby lips, dimpled cheeks,
the moon, whispers, timid breathing I wouldn't give a
brass farthing for the lot, madam ! Present company
always excepted, all women, great or little, are insincere,
crooked, backbiters, envious, liars to the marrow of their
bones, vain, trivial, merciless, unreasonable, and, as far
as this is concerned [taps his forehead] excuse my out-
spokenness, a sparrow can give ten points to any philo-
sopher in petticoats you like to name ! You look at one
of these poetic creatures : all muslin, an ethereal demi-
goddess, you have a million transports of joy, and you
look into her soul rand see a common crocodile ! [He grips
the lack of a chair ; the chair creaks and breaks] But the
most disgusting thing of all is that this crocodile for some
reason or other imagines that its chef d'ceuvre, its privilege
and monopoly, is its tender feelings. Why, confound it,
90 THEBEAR
hang me on that nail feet upwards, if you like, but have
you met a woman who can love anybody except a lapdog ?
When she's in love, can she do anything but snivel and
slobber ? While a man is suffering and making sacrifices
all her love expresses itself in her playing about with her
scarf, and trying to hook him more firmly by the nose.
You have the misfortune to be a woman, you know from
yourself what is the nature of woman. Tell me truth-
fully, have you ever seen a woman who was sincere, faith-
ful, and constant ? You haven't ! Only freaks and old
women are faithful and constant ! You'll meet a cat
with a horn or a white woodcock sooner than a constant
woman !
POPOVA. Then, according to you, who is faithful and
constant in love ? Is it the man ?
SMIRNOV. Yes, the man !
POPOVA. The man ! [Laughs bitterly] Men are faithful
and constant in love ! What an idea ! [With heat] What
right have you to talk like that ? Men are faithful and
constant Since we are talking about it, I'll tell you that
of all the men I knew and know, the best was my late
husband. ... I loved him passionately with all my
being, as only a young and imaginative woman can love,
I gave him my youth, my happiness, my life, my fortune,
I breathed in him, I worshipped him as if I were a heathen,
and . . . and what then ? This best of men shamelessly
deceived me at every step ! After his death I found in
his desk a whole drawerful of love-letters, and when he
was alive it's an awful thing to remember ! he used to
leave me alone for weeks at a time, and make love to other
women and betray me before my very eyes ; he wasted
my money, and made fun of my feelings. . . . And, in
spite of all that, I loved him and was true to him. . . .
THEBEAR 91
And not only that, but, now that he is dead, I am still
true and constant to his memory. I have shut myself for
ever within these four walls, and will wear these weeds
to the very end. . . .
SMIRNOV. [Laughs contemptuously] Weeds ! . . . I don't
understand what you take me for ? As if I don't know
why you wear that black domino and bury yourself between
four walls ! I should say I did ! It's so mysterious", so
poetic ! When some junker* or some tame poet goes past
your windows he'll think : " There lives the mysterious
Tamara who, for the love of her husband, buried herself
between four walls." We know these games !
POPOVA. [Exploding] What ? How dare you say all
that to m<
SMIRNOV 5 . You may have buried yourself alive, but you
haven't forgotten to powder your face !
POPOVA. How dare you speak to ine like that ?
SMIRNOV. Please don't shout, I'm not your steward !
You must allow me to call things by their real names. I'm
not a woman, and I'm used to saying what I think straight
out ! Don't you shout, either !
POPOVA. I'm not shouting, it's you ! Please leave me
alone !
SMIRNOV. Pay me my money and I'll go.
POPOVA. I shan't give you any money !
SMIROV. Oh, no, you will.
POPOVA. I shan't give you a farthing, just to spite you.
You leave me alone !
SMIRNOV. I have not the pleasure of being either your
husband or your fiance, so please don't make scenes. [Sits]
I don't like it.
POPOVA. [Choking with rage] So you sit down ?
* So in the original.
92 THEBEAR
SMIRNOV. I do.
POPOVA. I ask you to go away !
SMIRNOV. Give me my money. . . . [Aside] Oh, how
angry I am ! How angry I am !
POPOVA. I don't want to talk to impudent scoundrels !
Get out of this ! [Pause] Aren't you going ? No ?
SMIRNOV. No.
POPOVA. LTo?
SMIRNOV. No !
POPOVA. Very well then ! [Rings, enter LUKA] Luka,
show this gentleman out !
LUKA. [Approaches SMIRNOV] Would you mind going
out, sir, as you're asked to ! You needn't . . .
SMIRNOV. [Jumps up] Shut up ! Who are you talking
to ? I'll chop you into pieces !
LUKA. [Clutches at his heart] Little fathers ! . . . What
people ! . . . [Falls into a chair] Oh, I'm ill, I'm ill !
I can't breathe !
POPOVA. Where's Dasha ? Dasha ! [Shouts] Dasha !
Pelageya ! Dasha ! [Rings.
LUKA. Oh ! They've all gone out to pick fruit. . .
There's nobody at home ! I'm ill ! Water !
POPOVA. Get out of this, now.
SMIRNOV. Can't you be more polite ?
POPOVA. [Clenches her fists and stamps her foot] You're
a boor ! A coarse bear ! A Bourbon ! A monster !
SMIRNOV. What ? What did you say ?
POPOVA. I said you are a bear, a monster !
SMIRNOV. [Approaching her] May I ask what right you
have to insult me ?
POPOVA. And suppose I am insulting you ? Do you
think I'm afraid of you ?
SMIRNOV. And do you think that just because you're a
THEBEAR 93
poetic creature you can insult me with impunity ? Eh ?
We'll fight it out !
LUKA. Little fathers! . . . What people! . . . Water!
SMIRNOV. Pistols !
POPOVA. Do you think I'm afraid of you just because
you have large fists and a bull's throat ? Eh ? You
Bourbon !
SMIRNOV. We'll fight it out ! I'm not going to be
insulted by anybody, and I don't care if you"" are a woman,
one of the " softer sex," indeed !
POPOVA. [Trying to interrupt him] Bear ! Bear! Bear!
SMIRNOV. It's about time we got rid of the prejudice
that only men need pay for their insults. Devil take it,
if you want equality of rights you can have it. We're
going to fight it out !
POPOVA. With pistols ? Very well !
SMIRNOV. This very minute.
POPOVA. This very minute ! My husband had some
pistols. . . . I'll bring them here. [Is going, but turns
back] What pleasure it will give me to put a bullet into
your thick head ! Devil take you ! [Exit.
SMIRNOV. I'll bring her down like a chicken ! I'm not
a little boy or a sentimental puppy ; I don't care about
this " softer sex."
LUKA. Gracious little fathers ! . . . [Kneels] Have pity
on a poor old man, and go away from here ! You've
frightened her to death, and now you want to shoot her !
SMIRNOV. [Not hearing him] If she fights, well that's
equality of rights, emancipation, and all that ! * Here the
sexes are equal ! I'll shoot her on principle ! But what
a woman ! [Parodying her] " Devil take you ! I'll put a
bullet into your thick head." Eh ? How she reddened,
how her cheeks shone ! . . . She accepted my challenge !
94 THEBEAR
My word, it's the first time in my life that I've
seen. . . .
LUKA. Go away, sir, and I'll always pray to God for
you !
SMIRNOV. She is a woman ! That's the sort I can under-
stand ! A real woman! Not a sour-faced jellybag, but
fire, gunpowder, a rocket ! I'm even sorry to have to kill
her!
LUKA. [TFeeps] Dear . . . dear sir, do go away !
SMIRNOV. I absolutely like her ! Absolutely ! Even
though her cheeks are dimpled, I like her ! I'm almost
ready to let the debt go ... and I'm not angry any
longer. . . . Wonderful woman !
Enter POPOVA with pistols.
POPOVA. Here are the pistols. . . . But before we fight
you must show me how to fire. I've never held a pistol
in my hands before.
LUKA. Oh, Lord, have mercy and save her. . . . I'll
go and find the coachman and the gardener. . . . Why
has this infliction come on us. ... [Exit.
SMIRNOV. [Examining the pistols] You see, there are
several sorts of pistols. . . . There are Mortimer pistols,
specially made for duels, they fire a percussion-cap. These
are Smith and Wesson revolvers, triple action, with
extractors. . . . These are excellent pistols. They can't
cost less than ninety roubles the pair. . . . You must hold
the revolver like this. . . . [Aside] Her eyes, her eyes !
What an inspiring woman !
POPOVA. Like this ?
SMIRNOV. Yes, like this. . . . Then you cock the trigger,
and take aim like this. . . . Put your head back a little !
Hold your arm out properly. . . . Like that. . . . Then
you press this thing with your finger and that's all.
THEBEAR 95
The great thing is to keep cool and aim steadily. . . . Try
not to jerk your arm.
POPOVA. Very well. . . . It's inconvenient to shoot in
a room, let's go into the garden.
SMIRNOV. Come along then. But I warn you, I'm going
to fire in the air.
POPOVA. That's the last straw ! Why ?
SMIRNOV. Because . . . because . . . it's my affair.
POPOVA. Are you afraid ? Yes ? Ah ! No, sir, you
don't get out of it ! You come with me ! I shan't have
any peace until I've made a hole in your forehead . . .
that forehead which I hate so much ! Are you afraid ?
SMIRNOV. Yes, I am afraid.
POPOVA. You lie ! Why won't you fight ?
SMIRNOV. Because . . . because you . . . because I like
you
POPOVA. [Laughs] He likes me ! He dares to say that
lie likes me ! [Points to the door] That's the way.
SMIRNOV. [Loads the revolver in silence, takes his cap and
goes to the door. There he stops for half a minute, while
look at each other in silence, then he hesitatingly
approaches POPOVA] Listen. . . . Are you still angry ?
I'm devilishly annoyed, too . . . but, do you understand
. . . how can I express myself ? . . . The fact is, you
see, it's like this, so to speak. . . . [Shouts] Well, is it my
fault that I like you ? [He snatches at the back of a chair ;
the chair creaks and breaks] Devil take it, how I'm smashing
up your furniture ! I like you ! Do you understand ?
. I almost love you !
POPOVA. Get away from me I hate you !
SMIRNOV. God, what a woman ! I've never in my life
seen one like her ! I'm lost ! Done for ! Fallen into a
mousetrap, like a mouse !
96 THEBEAR
POPOVA. Stand back, or I'll fire !
SMIRNOV. Fire, then ! You can't understand what
happiness it would be to die before those beautiful eyes,
to be shot by a revolver held in that little, velvet hand. . . .
I'm out of my senses ! Think, and make up your mind
at once, because if I go out we shall never see each other
again ! Decide now. ... I am a landowner, of respect-
able character, have an income of ten thousand a year. . . .
I can put a bullet through a coin tossed into the air as
it comes down. ... I own some fine horses. . . . Will
you be my wife ?
POPOVA. [Indignantly shakes her revolver] Let's fight !
Let's go out !
SMIKNOV. I'm mad. ... I understand nothing. . . .
[ Yells] Waiter, water !
POPOVA. [Yells] Let's go out and fight !
SMIRNOV. I'm off my head, I'm in love like a boy, like
a fool ! [Snatches her hand, she screams with pain] I love
you ! [Kneels] I love you as I've never loved before ! I've
refused twelve women, nine have refused me, but I never
loved one of them as I love you. . . . I'm weak, I'm wax,
I've melted. . . . I'm on my knees like a fool, offering
you my hand. . . . Shame, shame ! I haven't been in
love for five years, I'd taken a vow, and now all of a sudden
I'm in love, like a fish out of water ! I offer you my hand.
Yes or no ? You don't want me ? Very well !
[Gets up and quickly goes to the door.
POPOVA. Stop.
SMIRNOV. [Stops] Well ?
POPOVA. Nothing, go away. . . No, stop. . . . No,
go away, go away ! I hate you ! Or no. . . . Don't go
away ! Oh, if you knew how angry I am, how angry I
am ! [Throws her revolver on the table] My fingers have
THEBEAR 97
swollen because of all this. . . . [Tears her handkerchief
in temper] What are you waiting for ? Get out !
SMIRNOV. Good-bye.
POPOVA. Yes, yes, go away ! . . . [Yells] Where are
you going ? Stop. . . . No, go away. Oh, how angry
I am ! Don't come near me, don't come near me !
SMIRNOV. [Approaching her] How angry I am with
myself ! I'm in love like a student, I've been on my
knees. . . . [Rudely] I love you ! What do I want to
fall in love with you for ? To-morrow I've got to pay
the interest, and begin mowing, and here you. . . . [Puts
his arms around her] I shall never forgive myself for
this. . . .
POPOVA. Get away from me ! Take your hands away !
I hate you ! Let's go and fight !
A prolonged kiss. Enter LUKA with an axe, the
GARDENER with a rake, the COACHMAN with a
pitchfork, and WORKMEN with poles.
LUKA. [Catches sight of the pair kissing] Little fathers !
[Pause.
POPOVA. [Lowering her eyes] Luka, tell them in the
stables that Toby isn't to have any oats at all to-day.
Curtain.
A TRAGEDIAN IN SPITE
OF HIMSELF
CHARACTERS
IVAN IVANOVITCH TOLKACHOV, the father of a family
ALEXEY ALEXEYEVITCH MUKASHKIN, his friend
The scene is laid in St. Petersburg, in MURASHKIN'S./?^
A TRAGEDIAN IN SPITE
OF HIMSELF
MURASHKIN'S study. Comfortable furniture. MURASHKIN
is seated at his desk. Enter TOLKACHOV holding in his
hands a glass globe for a lamp, a toy bicycle, three hat-
boxes, a large parcel containing a dress, a bin-case of
beer, and several little parcels. He looks round stupidly
and lets himself down on the sofa in exhaustion.
MURASHKIN. How do you do, Ivan Ivanovitch ? De-
lighted to see you ! What brings you here ?
TOLKACHOV. [Breathing heavily] My dear good fellow
... I want to ask you something. ... I implore you . . .
lend me a revolver till to-morrow. Be a friend !
MURASHKIN. What do you want a revolver for ?
TOLKACHOV. I must have it. ... Oh, little fathers !
. . . give me some water . . . water quickly ! . . . I
must have it. ... I've got to go through a dark wood
to-night, so in case of accidents ... do, please, lend it
to me.
MURASHKIN. Oh, you liar, Ivan Ivanovitch! What
the devil have you got to do in a dark wood ? I expect
you are up to something. I can see by your face that you
are up to something. What's the matter with you ? Are
you ill ?
TOLKACHOV. Wait a moment, let me breathe. ... Oh
101
102 A TRAGEDIAN
little mothers ! I am dog-tired. I've got a feeling all
over me, and in my head as well, as if I've been roasted on
a spit. I can't stand it any longer. Be a friend, and don't
ask me any questions or insist on details ; just give me the
revolver ! I beseech you !
MURASHKIN. Well, really ! Ivan Ivanovitch, what
cowardice is this ? The father of a family and a Civil
Servant holding a responsible post ! For shame !
TOLKACHOV. What sort of a father of a family am I !
I am a martyr. I am a beast of burden, a nigger, a slave,
a rascal who keeps on waiting here for something to happen
instead of starting off for the next world. I am a rag,
a fool, an idiot. Why am I alive ? What's the use ?
[Jumps up] Well now, tell me why am I alive ? What's
the purpose of this uninterrupted series of mental and
physical sufferings ? I understand being a martyr to an
idea, yes ! But to be a martyr to the devil knows what,
skirts and lamp-globes, no ! I humbly decline ! No, no,
no ! I've had enough ! Enough !
MURASHKIN. Don't shout, the neighbours will hear you !
TOLKACHOV. Let your neighbours hear ; it's all the
same to me ! If you don't give me a revolver somebody
else will, and there will be an end of me anyway ! I've
made up my mind !
MURASHKIN. Hold on, you've pulled off a button.
Speak calmly. I still don't understand what's wrong
with your life.
TOLKACHOV. What's wrong ? You ask me what's
wrong ? Very well, I'll tell you ! Very well ! I'll tell
you everything, and then perhaps my soul will be lighter.
Let's sit down. Now listen. . . . Oh, little mothers, I
am out of breath ! . . . Just let's take to-day as an instance.
Let's take to-day. As you know, I've got to work at the
A TRAGEDIAN 108
Treasury from ten to four. It's hot, it's stuffy, there are
flies, and, my dear fellow, the very dickens of a chaos. The
Secretary is on leave, Khrapov has gone to get married,
and the smaller fry is mostly in the country, making love
or occupied with amateur theatricals. Everybody is so
sleepy, tired, and done up that you can't get any sense
out of them. The Secretary's duties are in the hands of
an individual who is deaf in the left ear and in love ; the
public has lost its memory ; everybody is running about
angry and raging, and there is such a hullaballoo that you
can't hear yourself speak. Confusion and smoke every-
where. And my work is deathly : always the same, always
the same first a correction, then a reference back, another
correction, another reference back ; it's all as monotonous
as the waves of the sea. One's eyes, you understand,
simply crawl out of one's head. Give me some water. . . .
You come out a broken, exhausted man. You would like
to dine and fall asleep, but you don't ! You remember that
you live in the country that is, you are a slave, a rag, a
bit of string, a bit of limp flesh, and you've got to run
round and do errands. Where we live a pleasant custom
has grown up : when a man goes to town every wretched
female inhabitant, not to mention one's own wife, has the
power and the right to give him a crowd of commissions.
The wife orders you to run into the modiste's and curse her
for making a bodice too wide across the chest and too
narrow across the shoulders ; little Sonya wants a new
pair of shoes ; your sister-in-law wants some scarlet silk
like the pattern at twenty copecks and three arshins long.
. . . Just wait ; I'll read you. [Takes a note out of his
pocket and reads] A globe for the lamp ; one pound of pork
sausages ; five copecks' worth of cloves and cinnamon ;
castor-oil for Misha ; ten pounds of granulated sugar. To
104 A TRAGEDIAN
bring with you from home : a copper jar for the sugar ;
carbolic acid ; insect powder, ten copecks' worth ; twenty
bottles of beer ; vinegar ; and corsets for Mile. Shanceau
at No. 82. ... Ouf ! And to bring home Misha's winter
coat and goloshes. That is the order of my wife and family.
Then there are the commissions of our dear friends and
neighbours devil take them ! To-morrow is the name-
day of Volodia Vlasin ; I have to buy a bicycle for him.
The wife of Lieutenant-Colonel Virkhin is in an interesting
condition, and I am therefore bound to call in at the mid-
wife's every day and invite her to come. And so on, and
so on. There are five notes in my pocket and my hand-
kerchief is all knots. And so, my dear fellow, you spend
the time between your office and your train, running about
the town like a dog with your tongue hanging out, running
and running and cursing life. From the clothier's to the
chemist's, from the chemist's to the modiste's, from the
modiste's to the pork butcher's, and then back again to
the chemist's. In one place you stumble, in a second you
lose your money, in a third you forget to pay and they
raise a hue and cry after you, in a fourth you tread on the
train of a lady's dress. . . . Tfoo ! You get so shaken
up from all this that your bones ache all night and you
dream of crocodiles. Well, you've made all your purchases,
but how are you to pack all these things ? For instance,
how are you to put a heavy copper jar together with the
lamp-globe or the carbolic acid with the tea ? How are you
to make a combination of beer-bottles and this bicycle ?
It's the labours of Hercules, a puzzle, a rebus ! Whatever
tricks you think of, in the long run you're bound to smash
or scatter something, and at the station and in the train
you have to stand with your arms apart, holding up some
parcel or other under your chin, with parcels, cardboard
A TRAGEDIAN 105
boxes, and such-like rubbish all over you. The train
starts, the passengers begin to throw your luggage about
on all sides : you've got your things on somebody else's
Th^v yell, they call for the conductor, they threaten
to have you put out, but what can I do ? I just stand and
blink my eyes like a whacked donkey. Now listen to this.
I get home. You think I'd like to have a nice little drink
after my righteous labours and a good square meal isn't
that so ? but there is no chance of that. My spouse has
been on the look-out for me for some time. You've hardly
started on your soup when she has her claws into you,
wretched slave that you are and wouldn't you like to
go to some amateur theatricals or to a dance ? You can't
protest. You are a husband, and the word husband when
translated into the language of summer residents in the
country means a dumb beast which you can load to any
extent without fear of the interference of the Society for
the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. So you go and blink
at " A Family Scandal " or something, you applaud when
your wife tells you to, and you feel worse and worse and
worse until you expect an apoplectic fit to happen any
moment. If you go to a dance you have to find partners for
your wife, and if there is a shortage of them then you dance
the quadrilles yourself. You get back from the theatre or
the dance after midnight, when you are no longer a man but
a useless, limp rag. Well, at last you've got what you want ;
you unrobe and get into bed. It's excellent you can
close your eyes and sleep. . . . Everything is so nice,
poetic, and warm, you understand ; there are no children
squealing behind the wall, and you've got rid of your wife,
and your conscience is clear what more can you want ?
You fall asleep and suddenly . . . you hear a buzz ! . .
Gnats ! [Jumps up] Gnats ! Be they triply accursed
106 A TRAGEDIAN
Gnats ! [Shakes his fist] Gnats ! It's one of the plagues
of Egypt, one of the tortures of the Inquisition ! Buzz !
It sounds so pitiful, so pathetic, as if it's begging your
pardon, but the villain stings so that you have to scratch
yourself for an hour after. You smoke, and go for them,
and cover yourself from head to foot, but it is no good !
At last you have to sacrifice yourself and let the cursed
things devour you. You've no sooner got used to the
gnats when another plague begins : downstairs your wife
begins practising sentimental songs with her tenor friends.
They sleep by day and rehearse for amateur concerts by
night. Oh, my God ! Those tenors are a torture with
which no gnats on earth can compare. [He sings] " Oh,
tell me not my youth has ruined you." " Before thee do I
stand enchanted." Oh, the beastly things ! They've
about killed me ! So as to deafen myself a little I do this :
I drum on my ears. This goes on till four o'clock. Oh,
give me some more water, brother ! . . . I can't . . .
Well, not having slept, you get up at six o'clock in the
morning and off you go to the station. You run so as not
to be late, and it's muddy, foggy, cold brr ! Then you
get to town and start all over again. So there, brother.
It's a horrible life ; I wouldn't wish one like it for my
enemy. You understand I'm ill ! Got asthma, heart-
burn I'm always afraid of something. I've got indi-
gestion, everything is thick before me . . . I've become a
regular psychopath. . . . [Looking round] Only, between
ourselves, I want to go down to see Chechotte or Merzhey-
evsky. There's some devil in me, brother. In moments
of despair and suffering, when the gnats are stinging or the
tenors sing, everything suddenly grows dim ; you jump up
and race round the whole house like a lunatic and shout,
" I want blood ! Blood ! " And really all the time you
A TRAGEDIAN 107
do want to let a knife into somebody or hit him over the
head with a chair. That's what life in a summer villa
leads to ! And nobody has any sympathy for me, and
everybody seems to think it's all as it should be. People
even laugh. But understand, I am a living being and
I want to live ! This isn't farce, it's tragedy ! I say, if
you don't give me your revolver, you might at any rate
sympathize.
MURASHKIN. I do sympathize.
TOLKACHOV. I see how much you sympathize. . . .
Good-bye. I've got to buy some anchovies and some
sausage . . . and some tooth-powder, and then to the
station.
MURASHKIN. Where are you living ?
TOLKACHOV. At Carrion River.
MURASHKIN. [Delighted] Really ? Then you'll know
Olga Pavlovna Finberg, who lives there ?
TOLKACHOV. I know her. We are even acquainted.
MURASHKIN. How perfectly splendid ! That's so conve-
nient, and it would be so good of you . . .
TOLKACHOV. What's that ?
MURASHKIN. My dear fellow, wouldn't you do one little
thing for me ? Be a friend ! Promise me now.
TOLKACHOV. What's that ?
MURASHKIN. It would be such a friendly action ! I
implore you, my dear man. In the first place, give Olga
Pavlovna my very kind regards. In the second place,
there's a little thing I'd like you to take down to her. She
asked me to get a sewing-machine but I haven't anybody
to send it down to her by. . . . You take it, my dear !
And you might at the same time take down this canary
in its cage . . . only be careful, or you'll break the door.
. . . What are you looking at me like that for ?
108 A TRAGEDIAN
TOLKACHOV. A sewing-machine . . . A canary in a
cage . . . siskins, chaffinches . . .
MURASHKIN. Ivan Ivanovitch, what's the matter with
you ? Why are you turning purple ?
TOLKACHOV. [Stamping] Give me the sewing-machine !
Where's the bird-cage ? Now get on top yourself ! Eat
me ! Tear me to pieces ! Kill me ! [Clenching his fists]
I want blood ! Blood ! Blood !
MURASHKIN. You've gone mad !
TOLKACHOV. [Treading on his feet] I want blood !
Blood !
MURASHKIN. [In horror] He's gone mad ! [Shouts] Peter !
Maria ! Where are you ? Help !
TOLKACHOV. [Chasing him round the room] I want
blood! Blood!
Curtain.
THE ANNIVERSARY
CT VRACTERS
ANDREY ANDREYEVITCH SHIPUCHIN, Chairman of the
N Joint Stock Bank, a middle-aged man, with a
monocle
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA, his wife, aged 25
KUSMA NICOLAIEVITCH KHiKiN, the bank's aged book-keeper
NASTASYA FYODOROVNA MERCHUTKINA, an old woman
wearing an old-fashioned cloak
DIRECTORS OF THE BANK
EMPLOYEES OF THE BANK
The action takes place at the Bank
THE ANNIVERSARY
The private office of the Chairman {\JDirectors. On the
left is a door, leading into the public department. There
are two desks. The furniture aims at a deliberately
luxurious effect, with armchairs covered in velvet,
flowers, statues, carpets, and a telephone. It is mid-
day. KHIRIN is alone ; he wears long felt boots, and
is shouting through the door.
KHIRIN. Send out to the chemist for 15 copecks' worth
of valerian drops, and tell them to bring some drinking
water into the Directors' office ! This is the hundredth
time I've asked ! [Goes to a desk] I'm absolutely tired out.
This is the fourth day I've been working, without a chance
of shutting my eyes. From morning to evening I work
here, from evening to morning at home. [Coughs] And
I've got an inflammation all over me. I'm hot and cold,
and I cough, and my legs ache, and there's something
dancing before my eyes. [Sits] Our scoundrel of a Chair-
man, the brute, is going to read a report at a general
meeting. " Our Bank, its Present and Future." You'd
think he was a Gambetta. . . . [At work] Two . . .
one . . . one ... six ... nought . . . seven. . . . Next,
six ... nought . . . one . . . six. ... He just wants
to throw dust into people's eyes, and so I sit here and
work for him like a galley-slave ! This report of his is
poetic fiction and nothing more, and here I've got to sit
111
112 THE ANNIVERSARY
day after day and add figures, devil take his soul !
[Rattles on his counting -frame] I can't stand it ! [Writing]
That is, one . . . three . . . seven . . . two . . . one . . .
nought. ... He promised to reward me for my work.
If everything goes well to-day and the public is properly
put into blinkers, he's promised me a gold charm and
300 roubles bonus. . . . We'll see. [Works] Yes, but if
my work all goes for nothing, then you'd better look out.
. . . I'm very excitable. ... If I lose my temper I'm
capable of committing some crime, so look out ! Yes !
Noise and applause behind the scenes. SHIPUCHIN'S
voice : " Thank you ! Thank you ! I am ex-
tremely grateful." Enter SHIPUCHIN. He wears
a frockcoat and white tie ; he carries an album
which has been just presented to him.
SHIPUCHIN. [At the door, addresses the outer office] This
present, my dear colleagues, will be preserved to the day
of my death, as a memory of the happiest days of my
life ! Yes, gentlemen ! Once more, I thank you ! [Throws
a kiss into the air and turns to KHIRIN] My dear, my
respected Kusma Nicolaievitch !
All the time that SHIPUCHIN is on the stage, clerks
intermittently come in with papers for his signa-
ture and go out.
KHIRIN. [Standing up] I have the honour to con-
gratulate you, Andrey Andreyevitch, on the fiftieth
anniversary of our Bank, and hope that ...
SHIPUCHIN. [Warmly shakes hands] Thank you, my dear
sir ! Thank you ! I think that in view of the unique
haracter of the day, as it is an anniversary, we may kiss
each other ! . . . [They kiss] I am very, very glad !
Thank you for your service ... for everything ! If, in
the course of the time during which I have had the honour
THE ANNIVERSARY 113
to be Chairman of this Bank anything useful has been
done, the credit is due, more than to anybody else, to
my colleagues. [Sighs] Yes, fifteen years ! Fifteen years
as my name's Shipuchin ! [Changes his tone] Where's my
report ? Is it getting on ?
KHIRIN. Yes ; there's only five pages left.
SHIPUCHIN. Excellent. Then it will be ready by three ?
KHIRIN. If nothing occurs to disturb me, I'll get it
done. Nothing of any importance is now left.
SHIPUCHIN. Splendid. Splendid, as my name's Ship-
uchin ! The general meeting will be at four. If you
please, my dear fellow. Give me the first half, I'll peruse
it. ... Quick. . . . [Takes the report] I base enormous
hopes on this report. It's my profession defoi, or, better
still, my firework.* My firework, as my name's Shipuchin !
[Sit sand reads the report to himself] I'm hellishly tired. . . .
My gout kept on giving me trouble last night, all the
morning I was running about, and then these excitements,
ovations, agitations. . . . I'm tised !
KHIRIN. Two . . . nought . . . nought . . . three . . .
nine . . . two . . . nought. I can't see straight after
all these figures Three . . . one ... six ... four . . .
one . . . five. . . . [Uses the counting -frame.
SHIPUCHIN. Another unpleasantness. . . . This morning
your wife came to see me and complained about you once
again. Said that last night you threatened her and her
sister with a knife. Kusma Nicolaievitch, what do you
mean by that ? Oh, oh !
JLmxiN .^Rudely] As it's an anniversary, Andrey An-
dreyevitch, I'll ask for a special favour. Please, even if
it's only out of respect for my toil, don't interfere in my
family life. Please !
* The actual word employed.
114 THE ANNIVERSARY
SHIPUCHIN. [Sighs] Yours is an impossible character,
Kusma Nicolaievitch ! You're an excellent and
respected man, but you behave to women like some
scoundrel. Yes, really. I don't understand why you
hate them so ?
KHIRIN. I wish I could understand why you love them
so ! [Pause.
SHIPUCHIN. The employees have just presented me with
an album ; and the Directors, as I've heard, are going to
give me an address and a silver loving-cup. . . . [Playing
with his monocle'] Very nice, as my name's Shipuchin !
It isn't excessive. A certain pomp is essential to the
reputation of the Bank, devil take it ! You know every-
thing, of course. ... I composed the address myself, and
I bought the cup myself, too. . . . Well, then there was
45 roubles for the cover of the address, but you can't do
without that. They'd never have thought of it for them-
selves. [Looks round] Look at the furniture ! Just look
at it ! They say I'm stingy, that all I want is that the
locks on. the doors should be polished, that the employees
should wear fashionable ties, and that a fat hall-porter
should stand by the door. No, no, sirs. Polished locks
and a fat porter mean a good deal. I can behave as I like
at home, eat and sleep like a pig, get drunk. . . .
KHIRIN. Please don't make hints.
SHIPUCHIN. Nobody's making hints ! What an im-
possible character yours is. ... As I was saying, at home
I can live like a tradesman, a parvenu, and be up to any
games I like, but here everything must be en grand. This
is a Bank ! Here every detail must imponiren, so to
speak, and have a majestic appearance. [He picks up a
paper from the floor and throws it into the fireplace} My
service to the Bank has been just this I've raised its
THE ANNIVERSARY 115
reputation. A thing of immense importance is tone !
Immense, as my name's Shipuchin ! [Looks over KHIRIN]
My dear man, a deputation of shareholders may come
here any moment, and there you are in felt boots, wearing
a scarf ... in some absurdly coloured jacket. . . . You
might have put on a frock-coat, or at any rate a dark
jacket. . . .
KHIRIN. My health matters more to me than your
shareholders. I've an inflammation all over me.
SHIPUCHIN. [Excitedly] But you will admit that it's
untidy ! You spoil the ensemble !
KHIRIN. If the deputation comes I can go and hide
myself. It won't matter if ... seven . . . one . .
seven . . . two . . . one . . . five . . . nought. I don't like
untidiness myself. . . . Seven . . . two . . . nine . . . [Uses
the counting-frame] I can't stand untidiness ! It would
have been wiser of you not to have invited ladies to to-day's
anniversary dinner. . . .
SHIPUCHIN. Oh, that's nothing.
.KHIRIN. I know that you're going to have the hall
filled with them to-night to make a good show, but you
look out, or they'll spoil everything. They cause all sorts
of mischief and disorder.
SHIPUCHIN. On the contrary, feminine society elevates !
KHIRIN. Yes. . . . Your wife seems intelligent, but on
the Monday of last week she let something off that upset
me for two days. In front of a lot of people she suddenly
asks : " Is it true that at our Bank my husband bought
up a lot ofcthe shares of the Driazhsky-Priazhsky Bank,
which have been falling on exchange ? My husband is so
annoyed about it ! " This in front of people Why do
you tell them everything, I don't understand Do you
want them to get you into serious trouble ?
116 THE ANNIVERSARY
SHIPUCHIN. Well, that's enough, enough ! All that's too
dull for an anniversary. Which reminds me, by the^ay.
[Looks at the time] My wife ought to be here soon. I really
ought to have gone to the station, to meet the poor little
thing, but there's no time. . . . and I'm tired. I must say
I'm not glad of her ! That is to say, I am glad, but I'd be
gladder if she only stayed another couple of days with her
mother. She'll want me to spend the whole evening with
her to-night, whereas we have arranged a little excursion for
ourselves. . . . [Shivers] Oh, my nerves have already started
dancing me about. They are so strained that I think the
very smallest trifle would be enough to make me break into
tears ! No, I must be strong, as my name's Shipuchin !
Enter TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA SHIPUCHIN in a water-
proof, with a little travelling satchel slung across her
shoulder.
SHIPUCHIN. Ah ! In the nick of time !
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. Darling !
[Runs to her husband : a prolonged kiss.
SHIPUCHIN. We were only speaking of you just now !
[Looks at his watch.
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Panting] Were you very dull
without me ? Are you well ? I haven't been home yet,
I came here straight from the station. I've a lot, a lot
to tell you. ... I couldn't wait. ... I shan't take off
my clothes, I'll only stay a minute. [To KHIRIN] Good
morning, Kusma Nicolaievitch ! [To her husband] Is every-
thing all right at home ?
SHIPUCHIN. Yes, quite. And, you know, you've got to
look plumper and better this week. . . . Well, what sort
of a time did you have ?
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. Splendid. Mamma and Katya
send their regards. Vassili- Andreitch sends you a kiss.
THE ANNIVERSARY 117
[Kisses him] Aunt sends you a jar of jam, and is annoyed
because you don't write. Zina sends you a kiss. [Kisses.]
Oh, if you knew what's happened. If you only knew ! I'm
even frightened to tell you ! Oh, if you only knew ! But
I see by your eyes that you're sorry I came !
SHIPUCHIN. On the contrary. . . . Darling. . . .
[Kisses her.
KHIRIN coughs angrily.
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. Oh, poor Katya, poor Katya !
I'm so sorry for her, so sorry for her.
SHIPUCHIN. This is the Bank's anniversary to-day,
darling, we may get a deputation of the shareholders at
any moment, and you're not dressed.
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. Oh, yes, the anniversary ! I
congratulate you, gentlemen. I wish you. ... So it
means that to-day's the day of the meeting, the dinner. . . .
That's good. And do you remember that beautiful address
which you spent such a long time composing for the share-
holders ? Will it be read to-day ?
KHIRIN coughs angrily.
SHIPUCHIN. [Confused] My dear, we don't talk about
these things. You'd really better go home.
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. In a minute, in a minute. I'll
tell you everything in one minute and go. I'll tell you
from the very beginning. Well. . . . When you were
seeing me off, you remember I was sitting next to that
stout lady, and I began to read. I don't like to talk in
the train. I read for three stations and didn't say a word
to anyone. . . . Well, then the evening set in, and I felt
so mournful, you know, with such sad thoughts ! A
young man was sitting opposite me not a bad-looking
fellow, a brunette. . . . Well, we fell into conversa-
tion. ... A sailor came along then, then some student
118 THE ANNIVERSARY
or other. . . . [Laughs] I told them that I wasn't married
. . . and they did look after me ! We chattered till midnight,
the brunette kept on telling the most awfully funny stories,
and the sailor kept on singing. My chest began to ache
from laughing. And when the sailor oh, those sailors !
when he got to know my name was TATIANA, you know what
he sang ? [Sings in a bass voice] " Onegin don't let me con-
ceal it, I love Tatiana madly ! "* [Roars with laughter.
KHIRIN coughs angrily.
SHIPUCHIN. Tania, dear, you're disturbing Kusma
Nicolaievitch. Go home, dear. . . . Later on. . . .
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. No, no, let him hear if he wants
to, it's awfully interesting. I'll end in a minute. Serezha
came to meet me at the station. Some young man or
other turns up, an inspector of taxes, I think . . . quite
handsome, especially his eyes. . . . Serezha introduced
me, and the three of us rode off together. ... It was
lovely weather. . . .
Voices behind the stage : " You can't, you can't !
What do you want ? Enter MERCHUTKINA,
waving her arms about.
MERCHUTKINA. What are you dragging at me for ?
What else ! I want him himself ! [To SHIPUCHIN] I have
the honour, your excellency ... I am the wife of a civil
servant, Nastasya Fyodorovna Merchutkina.
SHIPUCHIN. What do you want ?
MERCHUTKINA. Well, you see, your excellency, my
husband has been ill for five months, and while he was
at home, getting better, he was suddenly dismissed for
no reason, your excellency, and when I went to get his
salary, they, you see, deducted 24 roubles 36 copecks
from it. What for ? I ask. They said, " Well, he drew
* From the opera Evgeni Onegin words by Pushkin.
THE ANNIVERSARY 119
it from the employees' account, and the others had to
make it up." How can that be ? How could he draw
anything without my permission ? No, your excellency !
I'm a poor woman . . . my lodgers are all I have to live
on. . . . I'm weak and defenceless. . . . Everybody does
me some harm, and nobody has a kind word for me.
SHIPUCHIN. Excuse me.
[Takes a petition from her and reads it standing.
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [To KHIRIN] Yes, but first
we. . . . Last week I suddenly received a letter from my
mother. She writes that a certain Grendilevsky has pro-
posed to my sister Katya. A nice, modest, young man,
but with no means of his own, and no assured position.
And, unfortunately, just think of it, Katya is absolutely
gone on him. What's to be done ? Mamma writes telling
me to come at once and influence Katya. . . .
KHIRIN. [Angrily] Excuse me, you've made me lose my
place ! You go talking about your mamma and Katya,
and I understand nothing, and I've lost my place.
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. What does that matter ? You
listen when a lady is talking to you ! Why are you so
angry to-day ? Are you in love ? [Laughs.
SHIPUCHIN. [To MERCHUTKINA] Excuse me, but what
is this ? I can't make head or tail of it. . .
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. Are you in love ? Aha! You're
blushing !
SHIPUCHIN. [To his wife] Tanya, dear, do go out into
the public office for a moment. I shan't be long.
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. All right. [Goes ont.
SHIPUCHIN. I don't understand anything of this. You've
obviously come to the wrong place, madam. Your petition
doesn't concern us at all. You should go to the depart-
ment in which your husband was employed.
120 THE ANNIVERSARY
MERCHUTKINA. I've been there a good many times
these five months, and they wouldn't even look at my
petition. I'd given up all hopes, but, thanks to my son-
in-law, Boris Matveyitch, I thought of coming to you.
'' You go, mother," he says, " and apply to Mr. Shipuchin,
he's an influential man and can do anything." Help me,
your excellency !
SHIPUCHIN. We can't do anything for you, Mrs. Mer-
chutkina. You must understand that your husband, so
far as I can gather, was in the employ of the Army Medical
Department, while this is a private, commercial concern,
a bank. Don't you understand that ?
MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, I can produce a doctor's
certificate of my husband's illness. Here it is, just look
at it. ...
SHIPUCHIN. [Irritated] That's all right ; I quite be-
lieve you, but it's not our business. [Behind the scene,
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA'S laughter is heard, then a man's.
SHIPUCHIN glances at the door] She's disturbing the.
employees. [To MERCHUTKINA] It's strange and it's
even silly. Surely your husband knows where you ought
to apply ?
MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, I don't let him know
anything. He just cried out : "It isn't your business !
Get out of this ! " And . . .
SHIPUCHIN. Madam, I repeat, your husband was in the
employ of the Army Medical Department, and this is a
bank, a private, commercial concern. . . .
MERCHUTKINA. Yes, yes, yes. ... I understand, my
dear. In that case, your excellency, just order them to
pay me 15 roubles ! I don't mind taking that to be going
on with.
SHIPUCHIN. [Sighs] Ouf !
THE ANNIVERSARY 121
KHIRIN. Andrey Andreyevitch, I'll never finish the
report at this rate !
SHIPUCHIN. One moment. [To MERCHUTKINA] I can't
get any sense out of you. But do understand that your
taking this business here is as absurd as if you took a
divorce petition to a chemist's or into a gold assay office.
[Knock at the door. The voice of TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA is
heard, " Can I come in, Andrey ? " SHIPUCHIN shouts]
Just wait one minute, dear ! [To MERCHUTKINA] What
has it got to do with us if you haven't been paid ? As it
happens, madam, this is an anniversary to-day, we're
busy . . . and somebody may be coming here at any
moment. . . . Excuse me. . . .
MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, have pity on me, an
orphan ! I'm a weak, defenceless woman. . . . I'm tired
to death. . . . I'm having trouble with my lodgers, and
on account of my husband, and I've got the house to look
after, and my son-in-law is out of work. . . .
SHIPUCHIN. Mrs. Merchutkina, I ... No, excuse me,
I can't talk to you ! My head's even in a whirl. . . . You
are disturbing us and making us waste our time. . . .
[Sighs, aside] What a business, as my name's Shipuchin !
[To KHIRIN] Kusma Nicolaievitch, will you please explain
to Mrs. Merchutkina. . . .
[Waves his hand and goes out into public department.
KHIRIN. [Approaching MERCHUTKINA, angrily] What do
you want ?
MERCHUTKINA. I'm a weak, defenceless woman. . . .
I may look all right, but if you were to take me to pieces
you wouldn't find a single healthy bit in me ! I can
hardly stand on my legs, and I've lost my appetite. I
drank my coffee to-day and got no pleasure out of it.
KHIRIN. I ask you, what do you want ?
122 THE ANNIVERSARY
MERCHUTKINA. Tell them, my dear, to give me 15
roubles, and a month later will do for the rest.
KHIRIN. But haven't you been told perfectly plainly
that this is a bank !
MERCHUTKINA. Yes, yes. . . . And if you like I can
show you the doctor's certificate.
KHIRIN. Have you got a head on your shoulders, or
what ?
MERCHUTKINA. My dear, I'm asking for what's mine by
law. I don't want what isn't mine.
KHIRIN. I ask you, madam, have you got a head on
your shoulders, or what ? Well, devil take me, I haven't
any time to talk to you ! I'm busy. . . . [Points to the
door] That way, please !
MERCHUTKINA. [Surprised] And where' s the money ?
KHIRIN. You haven't a head, but this . . .
[Taps the table and then points to his forehead.
MERCHUTKINA. [Offended] What ? Well, never mind,
never mind. . . . You can do that to your own wife, but
I'm the wife of a civil servant. . . . You can't do that to
me !
KHIRIN. [Losing his temper] Get out of this !
MERCHUTKINA. No, no, no ... none of that !
KHIRIN. If you don't get out this second, I'll call for
" the hall-porter ! Get out ! [Stamping.
MERCHUTKINA. Never mind, never mind ! I'm not
afraid ! I've seen the like of you before ! Miser !
KHIRIN. I don't think I've ever seen a more awful
woman in my life. . . . Ouf ! It's given me a head-
ache. . . . [Breathing heavily] I tell you once more . . .
do you hear me ? If you don't get out of this, you old
devil, I'll grind you into powder ! I've got such a
THE ANNIVERSARY 123
character that Fin perfectly capable of laming you for
life ! I can commit a crime !
MERCHUTKINA. I've heard barking dogs before. I'm
not afraid. I've seen the like of you before.
KHIRIN. [In despair] I can't stand it ! I'm ill ! I
can't ! [Sits down at his desk] They've let the Bank get
filled with women, and I can't finish my report ! I can't.
MERCHUTKINA. I don't want anybody else's money,
but my own, according to law. You ought to be ashamed
of yourself ! Sitting in a government office in felt
boots. . . .
Enter SHIPUCHIN and TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA.
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Following her husband] We
spent the evening at the Berezhnitskys. Katya was
wearing a sky-blue frock of foulard silk, cut low at the
neck. . . . She looks very well with her hair done over
her head, and I did her hair myself. . . . She was per-
fectly fascinating. . . .
SHIPUCHIN. [Who has had enough of it already] Yes,
yes . . . fascinating. . . . They may be here any
moment. . . .
MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency !
SHIPUCHIN. [Dully] What else ? What do you want ?
MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency ! [Points to KHIRIN]
This man . . . this man tapped the table with his finger,
and then his head. . . . You told him to look after my
affair, but he insults me and says all sorts of things. I'm
weak, defenceless woman. . . .
SHIPUCHIN. All right, madam, I'll see to it ... and
ike the necessary steps. . . . Go away now . . . later
>n ! [Aside] My gout's coming on !
KHIRIN. [In a low tone to SHIPUCHIN] Andrey
124 THE ANNIVERSARY
Andreyevitch, send for the hall-porter and have her turned
out neck and crop ! What else can we do ?
SHIPUCHIN. [Frightened] No, no ! She'll kick up a row
and we aren't the only people in the building.
MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency.
KHIRIN. [In a tearful voice] But I've got to finish my
report ! I won't have time ! I won't !
MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, when shall I have the
money ? I want it now.
SHIPUCHIN. [Aside, in dismay] A re-mark-ab-ly beastly
woman ! [Politely] Madam, I've already told you, this is
a bank, a private, commercial concern.
MERCHUTKINA. Be a father to me, your excellency. . . .
If the doctor's certificate isn't enough, I can get you
another from the police. Tell them to give me the money !
SHIPUCHIN. [Panting] Ouf !
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [To MERCHUTKINA] Mother,
haven't you already been told that you're disturbing
them ? What right have you ?
MERCHUTKINA. Mother, beautiful one, nobody will help
me. All I do is to eat and drink, and just now I didn't
enjoy my coffee at all.
SHIPUCHIN. [Exhausted] How much do you want ?
MERCHUTKINA. 24 roubles 36 copecks.
SHIPUCHIN. All right ! [Takes a 25-rouble note out of his
pocket-book and gives it to her] Here are 25 roubles. Take
it and ... go !
KHIRIN coughs angrily.
MERCHUTKINA. I thank you very humbly, your ex-
cellency. [Hides the money.
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Sits by her husband] It's time
I went home. . . . [Looks at watch] But I haven't done
yet. . . . I'll finish in one minute and go away. . , .
THE ANNIVERSARY 125
What a time we had ! Yes, what a time ! We went to
spend the evening at the Berezhnitskys. ... It was all
riirht, quite fun, but nothing in particular. . . . Katya's
devoted Grendilevsky was there, of course. . . . Well,
I talked to Katya, cried, and induced her to talk to
Grendilevsky and refuse him. Well, I thought, every-
thing's settled the best possible way ; I've quieted mamma
down, saved Katya, and can be quiet myself. . . . What
do you think ? Katya and I were going along the avenue,
just before supper, and suddenly . . . [Excitedly] And
suddenly we heard a shot. . . . No, I can't talk about it
calmly ! [ Waves her handkerchief] No, I can't !
SHIPUCHIN. [Sighs] Ouf !
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Weeps] We ran to the summer-
house, and there . . . there poor Grendilevsky was
lying . . . with a pistol in his hand. . . .
SHIPUCHIN. No, I can't stand this ! I can't stand it !
[To MERCHUTKINA] What else do you want ?
MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, can't my husband go
back to his job ?
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Weeping] He'd shot himself
right in the heart . . . here. . . . And the poor man had
fallen down senseless. . . . And he was awfully frightened,
as he lay there . . . and asked for a doctor. A doctor
came soon . . . and saved the unhappy man. . . .
MERCHUTKINA. Your excellency, can't my husband go
back to his job ?
SHIPUCHIN. No, I can't stand this ! [Weeps] I can't
stand it ! [Stretches out both his hands in despair to
KHIRIN] Drive her away ! Drive her away, I implore
you !
KHIRIN. [Goes up to TATIAXA ALEXEYEVNA] Get out of
this!
126 THE ANNIVERSARY
SHIPUCHIN. Not her, but this one . . . this awful
woman. . . . [Points] That one !
KHIRIN. [Not understanding, to TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA]
Get out of this ! [Stamps] Get out !
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. What ? What are you doing ?
Have you taken leave of your senses ?
SHIPUCHIN. It's awful ? I'm a miserable man ! Drive
her out ! Out with her !
KHIRIN. [To TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA] Out of it ! I'll
cripple you ! I'll knock you out of shape ! I'll break the
law !
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Running from him ; he chases
her] How dare you ! You impudent fellow ! [Shouts]
Andrey! Help! Andrey ! [Screams.
SHIPUCHIN. [Chasing them] Stop ! I implore you ! Not
such a noise ? Have pity on me !
KHIRIN. [Chasing MERCHUTKINA] Out of this ! Catch
her ! Hit her ! Cut her into pieces !
SHIPUCHIN. [Shouts] Stop ! I ask you ! I implore you !
MERCHUTKINA. Little fathers . . . little fathers ! . . .
[Screams] Little fathers ! . . .
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Shouts] Help ! Help ! . . .Oh,
oh ... I'm sick, I'm sick !
Jumps on to a chair, then falls on to the sofa and
groans as if in a faint.
KHIRIN. [Chasing MERCHUTKINA] Hit her ! Beat her !
Cut her to pieces !
MERCHUTKINA. Oh, oh ... little fathers, it's all dark
before me ! Ah ! [Falls senseless into SHIPUCHIN'S arms.
There is a knock at the door ; a VOICE announces THE DEPU-
TION] The deputation . . . reputation . . . occupation . . .
KHIRIN. [Stamps] Get out of it, devil take me ! [Turns
up his sleeves] Give her to me : I may break the law :
THE ANNIVERSARY 1-27
A deputation of five men enters ; they all wear frock-
coats. One carries the velvet-covered address,
another, the loving-cup. Employees look in at the
door, from the public department. TATIANA ALEXE-
YEVNA on the sofa, and MERCHUTKINA in SHIPU-
CHIN'S arms are both groaning.
ONE OF THE DEPUTATION. [Reads aloud] " Deeply-
respected and dear Andrey Andreyevitch ! Throwing a
retrospective glance at the past history of our financial ad-
ministration, and reviewing in our minds its gradual develop-
ment, we receive an extremely satisfactory impression. It
is true that in the first period of its existence, the incon-
siderable amount of its capital, and the absence of serious
operations of any description, and also the indefinite aims
of this bank, made us attach an extreme importance to the
question raised by Hamlet, ' To be or not to be/ and at one
time there were even voices to be heard demanding our
liquidation. But at that moment you become the head of
our concern. Your knowledge, energies, and your native
tact were the causes of extraordinary success and widespread
extension. The reputation of the bank . . . [Coughs] re-
putation of the bank . . .
MERCHUTKINA. [Groans] Oh ! Oh !
TATIANA ALEXEYEVNA. [Groans] Water ! Water !
THE MEMBER OF THE DEPUTATION. [Continues] The
reputation [Coughs] . . . the reputation of the bank has
been raised by you to such a height that we are now the
rivals of the best foreign concerns.
SHIPUCHIN. Deputation . . . reputation . . . occupa-
tion. . . . Two friends that had a walk at night, held con-
verse by the pale moonlight. . . . Oh tell me not, that
youth is vain, that jealousy has turned my brain.
THE MEMBER OF THE DEPUTATION. [Continues in con-
128 THE ANNIVERSARY
fusion] Then, throwing an objective glance at the present
condition of things, we, deeply respected and dear Andrey
Andreyevitch . . . [Lowering his voice] In that case, we'll
do it later on. ... Yes, later on. . . ."
[DEPUTATION goes out in confusion.
Curtain.
THE THREE SISTERS
A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS
CHARACTERS
ANDEEY SERGEYEVITCH PROSOROV
NATALIA IVANOVNA (NATASHA), his fiancee, later his wife (28)
OLGA -\
MASHA \his sisters
IRINA J
FEODOR ILITCH KULIGIN, high school teacher, married to
MASHA (20)
ALEXANDER IGNATEYEVITOH VERSHININ, lieutenant-colonel
in charge of a battery (42)
NICOLAI LVOVITCH TuzENBACH, baron, lieutenant in the
army (30)
VASSILI VASSILEVITCH SOLENT, captain
IVAN EOMANOVITCH CHEBUTIKIN, army doctor (60)
ALEXEY PETROVITCH FEDOTIK, sub-lieutenant
VLADIMIR CARLOVITCH KODE, sub-lieutenant
FERAPONT, door-keeper at local council offices, an old man
ANFISA, nurse (80)
The action takes place in a provincial town.
[Ages are stated in brackets.]
THE THREE SISTERS
ACT I
In PROSOROV'S house. A sitting-room with pillars ; behind
is seen a large dining-room. It is midday, the sun is
shining brightly outside. In the dining-room the table
is being laid for lunch.
OLQA, in the regulation blue dress of a teacher at a girl's
high school, is walking about correcting exercise books ;
MASHA, in a black dress, with a hat on her knees, sits and
reads a book ; IKINA, in white, stands about, with a
thoughtful expression.
OLGA. It's just a year since father died last May the
fifth, on your name-day, Irina. It was very cold then, and
snowing. I thought I would never survive it, and you were
in a dead faint. And now a year has gone by and we are
already thinking about it without pain, and you are wearing
a white dress and your face is happy. [Clock strikes twelve]
And the clock struck just the same way then. [Pause] I
remember that there was music at the funeral, and they
fired a volley in the cemetery. He was a general in com-
mand of a brigade but there were few people present. Of
course, it was raining then, raining hard, and snowing.
IRINA. Why think about it !
BARON TUZENBACS, CHEBUTIKIN and SOLENI appear
by the table in the dining-roomj behind the pillars.
131
132 THE THREE SISTERS ACTI
OLGA. It's so warm to-day that we can keep the windows
open, though the birches are not yet in flower. Father was
put in command of a brigade, and he rode out of Moscow
with us eleven years ago. I remember perfectly that it was
early in May and that everything in Moscow was flowering
then. It was warm too, everything was bathed in sun-
shine. Eleven years have gone, and I remember everything
as if we rode out only yesterday. Oh, God ! When I
awoke this morning and saw all the light and the spring,
joy entered my heart, and I longed passionately to go
home.
CHEBUTIKIN. Will you take a bet on it ?
TUZENBACH. Oh, nonsense.
MASHA, lost in a reverie over her book, whistles
softly.
OLGA. Don't whistle, Masha. How can you ! [Pause]
I'm always having headaches from having to go to the
High School every day and then teach till evening. Strange
thoughts come to me, as if I were already an old woman.
And really, during these four years that I have been working
here, I have been feeling as if every day my strength and
youth have been squeezed out of me, drop by drop. And
only one desire grows and gains in strength . . .
IRINA. To go away to Moscow. To sell the house, drop
everything here, and go to Moscow. . - .
OLGA. Yes ! To Moscow, and as soon as possible.
CHEBUTIKIN and TUZENBACH laugh.
IRINA. I expect Andrey will become a professor, but still,
he won't want to live here. Only poor Masha must go on
living here.
OLGA. Masha can come to Moscow every year, for the
whole summer.
MASHA is whistling gently.
ACT i THE THREE SISTERS 133
IRINA. Everything will be arranged, please God. [Looks
out of the window] It's nice out to-day. I don't know why
I'm so happy : I remembered this morning that it was
my name-day, and I suddenly felt glad and remembered
my childhood, when mother was still with us. What
beautiful thoughts I had, what thoughts !
OLGA. You're all radiance to-day, I've never seen you
look so lovely. And Masha is pretty, too. Andrey
wouldn't be bad-looking, if he wasn't so stout ; it does spoil
his appearance. But I've grown old and very thin, I
suppose it's because I get angry with the girls at school.
To-day I'm free. I'm at home. I haven't got a headache,
and I feel younger than I was yesterday, ^'m only twenty-
fi^'-it. . . . All's .well, God is everywhere, l^ut it seems to me .
that if only I were married and could stay at home all day,
it would be even better. [Pause] I should love my husband.
TUZENBACH. [To SOLENI] I'm tired of listening to the rot
you talk. [Entering the sitting -room] I forgot to say that
Vershinin, our new lieutenant-colonel of artillery, is coming
to see us to-day. [Sits down to the piano.
OLGA. That's good. I'm glad.
IRINA. Is he old ?
TUZENBACH. Oh, no. Forty or forty-five, at the very
outside. [Plays softly] He seems rather a good sort. He's
certainly no fool, only he likes to hear himself speak.
IRINA. Is he interesting ?
TUZENBACH. Oh, he's all right, but there's his wife, his
mother-in-law, and two daughters. This is his second
wife. He pays calls and tells everybody that he's got a
wife and two daughters. He'll tell you so here. The wife
isn't all there, she does her hair like a flapper and gushes
extremely. She talks philosophy and tries to commit
suicide every now and again, apparently in order to annoy
THE THREE SISTERS ACTI
her husband. I should have left her long ago, but he bears
up patiently, and just grumbles.
SOLENT. [Enters with CHEBUTIKIN from the dining-room]
With one hand I can only lift fifty-four pounds, but with
bothjiands I can lift 180, or even 200 pounds. From this I
conclude that two men are not twice as strong as one, but
three times, perhaps even more. . . .
CHEBUTIKIN. [Reads a newspaper as he walks] If your
hair is coming out . . . take an ounce of naphthaline and
half a bottle of spirit . . . dissolve and use daily. . . .
[Makes a note in his pocket diary] When found make a note
of ! Not that I want it though. . . . [Crosses it out] It
doesn't matter.
IRINA. Ivan Romanovitch, dear Ivan Romanovitch !
CHEBUTIKIN. What does my own little girl want ?
IRINA. Ivan Romanovitch, dear Ivan Romanovitch ! I
feel as if I were sailing under the broad blue sky with great
white birds around me. Why is that ? Why ?
CHEBUTIKIN. [Kisses her hands, tenderly] My white
bird. ... -
IRINA. When I woke up to-day and got up and dressed
myself, I suddenly began to feel as if everything in this life
was open to me, and that I knew how I must live. Dear
Ivan Romanovitch, I know everything. A man must work,
toil in the sweat of his brow, whoever he may be, for that
is the meaning and object of his life, his happiness, his
enthusiasm. How fine it is to be a workman who gets up
at daybreak and breaks stones in the street, or a shepherd,
or a schoolmaster, who teaches children, or an engine-driver
on the railway. . . . My God, let alone a man, it's better to
be an ox, or just a horse, so long as it can work, than a
young woman who wakes up at twelve o'clock, has her
coffee in bed, and then spends two hours dressing. . . .
ACT i THE THREE SISTERS 135
Oh it's awful ! Sometimes when it's hot, your thirst can
be just as tiresome as my need for work. And if I don't
get up early in future and work, Ivan Romanovitch, then
you may refuse me your friendship.
CHEBUTIKIN. [Tenderly] I'll refuse, I'll refuse. . . .
OLGA. Father used to make us get up at seven. Now
Irina wakes at seven and lies and meditates about something
till nine at least. And she looks so serious ! [Laughs.
IRINA. You're so used to seeing me as a little girl that
it seems queer to you when my face is serious. I'm twenty !
TUZENBACH. . How well I can understand that craving for
work, oh God ! I've never worked once in my life. I was
born in Petersburg, a chilly, lazy place, in a family which
never knew what work or worry meant. I remember that
I when I used to come home from my regiment, a footman
i used to have to pull off my boots while I fidgeted and my
mother looked on in adoration and wondered why other
people didn't see me in the same light. They shielded me
from work ; but only just in time ! A new age is dawning,
the people are marching on us all, a powerful, health-giving
storm is gathering, it is drawing near, soon it will be upon
us and it will drive away laziness, indifference, the prejudice
against labour, and rotten dullness from our society. I
shall work, and in twenty-five or thirty years, every man
will have to work. Every one !
CHEBUTIKIN. I shan't work.
TUZENBACH. You don't matter.
SOLENI. In twenty-five years' time, we shall all be dead,
thank the Lord. In two or three years' time apoplexy will
carry you off, or else I'll blow your brains out, my pet.
Takes a scent-bottk out of his pocket and sprinkles his
chest and hands.
CHEBUTIKIN. [Laughs] It's quite true, I never have
136 THE THREE SISTERS ACTI
worked. After I came down from the university I never
stirred a finger or opened a book, I just read the papers. . .
[Takes another newspaper out of his pocket] Here we are. . . .
I've learnt from the papers that there used to be one,
Dobrolubov,* for instance, but what be wrote I don't
know . . . G-od only knows. . . . [Somebody is heard
tapping on the floor from below] There. . . . They're calling
me downstairs, somebody's come to see me. I'll be back in a
minute . . . won't be long. . . .
[Exit hurriedly, scratching his beard.
IRINA. He's up to something.
TUZENBACH. Yes, he looked so pleased as he went out
that I'm pretty certain he'll bring you a present in a
moment.
IRINA. How unpleasant !
OLGA. Yes, it's awful. He's always doing silly things.
MASHA. " There stands a green oak by the sea.
And a chain of bright gold is around it ...
And a chain of bright gold is around it. . . ."
[Gets up and sings softly.
OLGA. You're not very bright to-day, Masha. [MASHA
sings, putting on her hat] Where are you off to ?
MASHA. Home.
IRINA. That's odd. . . .
TUZENBACH. On a name-day, too !
MASHA. It doesn't matter. I'll come in the evening.
Good-bye, dear. [Kisses IRINA] Many happy returns M
though I've said it before. In the old days when father was
alive, every time we had a name-day, thirty or forty officers
used to come, and there was lots of noise and fun, and
to-day there's only a man and a half, and it's as quiet as a
* Dobrolubov (1836-61), in spite of the shortness of his career,
established himself as one of the classic literary critics of Russia.
ACT i THE THREE SISTERS 137
desert . . . I'm off ... I've got the hump to-day, and
am not at all cheerful, so don't you mind me. [auyJis
through her tears] We'll have a talk later on, but good-bye
for t he present, my dear ; I'll go somewhere.
IRINA. [Displeased] You are queer. . . .
OLGA. [Crying] I understand you, Masha.
SOLENI. When a man talks philosophy, well, it is philo-
sophy or at any rate sophistry ; but when a woman, or two
women, talk philosophy it's all my eye.
MASHA. What do you mean by that, you very awful
man ?
SOLENI. Oh, nothing. You came down on me before I
could say . . . help ! [Pause.
MASHA. [Angrily, to OLGA] Don't cry !
Enter ANFISA and FERAPONT with a cake.
ANFISA. This way, my dear. Come in, your feet are
clean. [To IRINA] From the District Council, from Mihail
Ivanitch Protopopov ... a cake.
IRINA. Thank you. Please thank him. [Takes the cake.
FERAPONT. What ?
IRINA. [Louder] Please thank him.
OLGA. Give him a pie, nurse. Ferapont, go, she'll give
you a pie.
FERAPONT. What ?
ANFISA. Come on, gran'fer, Ferapont Spiridonitch. Come
on. [Exeunt.
MASHA. I don't like this Mihail Potapitch or Ivanitch,
Protopopov. We oughtn't to invite him here.
IRINA. I never asked him.
MASHA. That's all right.
Enter CHEBUTIKIN followed by a soldier with a silver
samovar ; there is a rumble of dissatisfied surprise.
OLGA. [Covers her face with her hands] A samovar !
138 THE THREE SISTERS ACTI
That's awful ! [Exit into the dining-room, to the table.
IRINA. My dear Ivan Bomanovitch, what are you doing !
TUZENBACH. [Laughs] I told you so !
MASHA. Ivan Romanovitch, you are simply shameless !
CHEBUTIKIN. My dear good girl, you are the only thing,
and the dearest thing I have in the world. I'll soon be
sixty. I'm an old man, a lonely worthless old man. The
only good thing in me is my love for you, and if it hadn't
been for that, I would have been dead long ago. . . . [To
IRINA] My dear little girl, I've known you since the day of
your birth, I've carried you in my arms ... I loved your
dead mother. . . .
MASHA. But your presents are so expensive !
CHEBUTIKIN. [Angrily, through his tears] Expensive
presents. . . . You really are ! ... [To the orderly] Take
the samovar in there. . . . [Teasing] Expensive presents !
The orderly goes into the dining-room with the samovar.
ANFISA. [Enters and crosses stage] My dear, there's a
strange Colonel come ! He's taken off his coat already.
Children, he's coming here. Irina darling, you'll be a nice
and polite little girl, won't you. . . . Should have lunched
a long time ago. . . . Oh, Lord. . . . [Exit.
TUZENBACH. It must be Vershinin. [Enter VERSHININ]
Lieutenant-Colonel Vershinin !
VERSHININ. [To MASHA and IRINA] I have the honour to
introduce myself, my name is Vershinin. I am very glad
indeed to be able to come at last. How you've grown !
Oh! oh!
IRINA. Please sit down. We're very glad you've come.
VERSHININ. [Gaily] I am glad, very glad ! But there
are three sisters, surely. I remember three little girls.
I forget your faces, but your father, Colonel Prosorov, used
to have three little girls, I remember that perfectly, I saw
ACT i THE THREE SISTERS 139
them with my own eyes. How time does fly ! Oh, dear,
how it flies !
TUZENBACH. Alexander Ignateyevitch comes from Mos-
cow.
IRINA. ^rom Moscow ? Are you from Moscow ?
VERSHTNIN. Yes, that's so. Your father used to be in
charge of a battery there, and I was an officer in the same
brigade. [To MASHA] I seem to remember your face a little.
MASHA. I don't remember you.
IRINA. Olga ! Olga ! [Shoitts into the dining-room] Olga !
Come along ! [OLGA enters from the dining-room] Lieutenant-
Colonel Vershinin comes from Moscow, as it happens.
VERSHININ. I take it that you are Olga Sergeyevna, the
eldest, and that you are Maria . . . and you are Irina, the
youngest. . . .
OLGA. So you come from Moscow 1
VERSHININ. Yes. I went to school in Moscow. and began
my service there ; I was there for a long time until at last
I got my battery and moved over here, as you see. I don't
really remember you, I only remember that there used to
be three sisters. I remember your father well ; I have
only to shut my eyes to see him as he was. I used to come
to your house in Moscow. . . .
OLGA. I used to think I remembered everybody, but . . .
VERSHININ. My name is Alexander Ignateyevitch.
IRINA. Alexander Ignateyevitch, you've come from
Moscow. That is really quite a surprise !
OLGA. We are going to live there, you see.
IRINA. We think we may be there this autumn. It's
our native town, we were born there. In Old Basmanni
Road. . . . [They both laugh for joy.
MASHA. We've unexpectedly met a fellow countryman.
[Briskly] I remember : Do you remember, Olga, they
140 THE THREE SISTERS ACTI
used to speak at home of a " lovelorn Major." You were
only a Lieutenant then, and in love with somebody, but for
some reason they always called you a Major for fun.
VERSHININ. [Laughs] That's it ... the lovelorn Major,
that's got it !
MASHA. You only wore moustaches then. You have
grown older ! [Through her tears] You have grown older !
VERSHININ. Yes, when they used to call me the lovelorn
Major, I was young and in love. I've grown out of both
now.
OLGA. But you haven't a single white hair yet. You're
older, but you're not yet old.
VERSHININ. I'm forty-two, anyway. Have you been
away from Moscow long ?
IRINA. Eleven years. What are you crying for, Masha,
you little fool. . . . [Crying] And I'm crying too.
MASHA. It's all right. And where did you live ?
VERSHININ. Old Basmanni Koad.
OLGA. Same as we.
VERSHININ. Once I used to live in German Street. That
was when the Red Barracks were my headquarters. There's
an ugly bridge in between, where the water rushes under-
neath. One gets melancholy when one is alone there.
[Pause] Here the river is so wide and fine ! It's a splendid
river !
OLGA. Yes, but it's so cold. It's very cold here, and the
midges. . . .
VERSHININ. What are you saying ! Here you've got
such a fine healthy Russian climate. You've a forest, a
river . . . and birches. Dear, modest birches, I like them
more than any other tree. It's good to live here. Only it's
odd that the railway station should be thirteen miles away.
. . . Nobody knows why.
ACT i THE THREE SISTERS 141
SOLENI. I know why. [All look at him] Because if it was
near it wouldn't be far off, and if it's far off, it can't be near.
[An awkward pause.
TUZENBACH. Funny man.
OLGA. Now I know who you are. I remember.
VERSHININ. I used to know your mother.
CHEBUTIKIN. She was a good woman, rest her soul.
IRINA. Mother is buried in Moscow.
OLGA. At the Novo-Devichi Cemetery.
MASHA. Do you know, I'm beginning to forget her face.
We'll be forgotten in just the same way.
VERSHININ. Yes, they'll forget us. It's our fate, it can't
be helped. A time will come when everything that seems
serious, significant, or very important to us will be forgotten,
or considered trivial. [Pause] And the curious thing is that
we can't possibly find out what will come to be regarded
as great and important, and what will be feeble, or silly.
Didn't the discoveries of Copernicus, or Columbus, say,
seem unnecessary and ludicrous at first, while wasn't it
thought that some rubbish written by a fool, held all the
truth ? And it may so happen that our present existence,
with which we are so satisfied, will in time appear strange,
inconvenient, stupid, unclean, perhaps even sinful. . . .
TUZENBACH. Who knows ? But on the other hand, they
may call our life noble and honour its memory. We've
abolished torture and capital punishment, we live in security,
but how much suffering there is still !
SOLENI. [In a feeble voice} There, there. . . . The Baron
will go without his dinner if you only let him talk philosophy.
TUZENBACH. Vassili Vassilevitch, kindly leave me alone.
[Changes his chair] You're very dull, you know.
SOLENI. [Feebly] There, there, there.
TUZENBACH. [To VERSHININ] The sufferings we see
142 THE THREE SISTERS ACTI
to-day there are so many of them ! still indicate a certain
moral improvement in society.
VERSHININ. Yes, yes, of course.
CHEBUTIKIN. You said just now, Baron, that they may
call our life noble ; but we are very petty. . . . [Stands up]
See how little I am. [Violin played behind.
MASHA. That's Andrey playing our brother.
IRINA. He's the learned member of the family. I expect
he will be a professor some day. Father was a soldier, but
his son chose an academic career for himself.
MASHA. That was father's wish.
OLGA. We ragged him to-day. We think he's a little in
love.
IRINA. To a local lady. She will probably come here
to-day.
MASHA. You should see the way she dresses ! Quite
prettily, quite fashionably too, but so badly ! Some queer
bright yellow skirt with a wretched little fringe and a red
bodice. And such a complexion ! Andrey isn't in love.
After all he has taste, he's simply making fun of us. I
heard yesterday that she was going to marry Protopopov,
the chairman of the Local Council. That would do her
nicely. . . . [At the side door] Andrey, come here ! Just
for a minute, dear ! [Enter ANDREY.
OLGA. My brother, Andrey Sergeyevitch.
VERSHININ. My name is Vershinin.
ANDREY. Mine is Prosorov. [Wipes his perspiring hands]
You've come to take charge of the battery ?
OLGA. Just think, Alexander Ignateyevitch comes from
Moscow.
ANDREY. That's all right. Now my little sisters won't
give you any rest.
VERSHININ. I've already managed to bore your sisters.
ACT i THE THREE SISTERS 143
IRIX A. Just look what a nice little photograph frame
Andrey gave me to-day. [Shows it] He made it
himself.
VERSHININ. [Looks at the frame and does not know what to
say] Yes. . . . It's a thing that . . .
IRINA. And he made that frame there, on the piano as
well. [Andrey waves his hand and walks away.
OLGA. He's got a degree, and plays the violin, and cuts
all sorts of things out of wood, and is really a domestic
Admirable Crichton. Don't go away, Andrey ! He's got
into a habit of always going away. Come here !
MASHA and IRINA take his arms and laughingly lead
him back.
MASHA. Come on, come on !
ANDREY. Please leave me alone.
MASHA. You are funny. Alexander Ignateyevitch used
to be called the lovelorn Major, but he never minded.
VERSHININ. Not the least.
MASHA. I'd like to call you the lovelorn fiddler !
IRINA. Or the lovelorn professor !
OLGA. He's in love ! little Andrey is in love !
IRINA. [Applauds] Bravo, bravo ! Encore ! Little An-
drey is in love.
CHEBUTIKIN. [Goes up behind ANDREY and takes him
round the waist with both arms] Nature only brought us
into the world that we should love !
Roars with laughter, then sits down and reads a news-
paper which he takes out of his pocket.
ANDREY. That's enough, quite enough. . . . [Wipes his
face] I couldn't sleep all night and now I can't quite find my
feet, so to speak. I read until four o'clock, then tried to
sleep, but nothing happened. I thought about one thing
and another, and then it dawned and the sun crawled into
144 THE THREE SISTERS ACTI
my bedroom. This summer, while I'm here, I want to
translate a book from the English. . . .
VERSHININ. Do you read English ?
ANDRE Y. Yes ; father, rest his soul, educated us almost
violently. It may seem funny and silly, but it's neverthe-
less true, that after his death I began to fill out and get
rounder, as if my body had had some great pressure taken
off it. Thanks to father, my sisters and I know French,
German, and English, and Irina knows Italian as well. But
we paid dearly for it all !
MASHA. A knowledge of three languages is an unnecessary
luxury in this town. It isn't even a luxury but a sort of
useless extra, like a sixth finger. We know a lot too much.
VERSHININ. Well, I say ! [Laughs] You know a lot too
much ! I don't think there can really be a town so dul
and stupid as to have no place for a clever, cultured person
Let us suppose even that among the hundred thousand
inhabitants of this backward and uneducated town, there
are only three persons like yourself. It stands to reason
that you won't be able to conquer that dark mob around
you ; little by little as you grow older you will be bound
to give way and lose yourselves in this crowd of a hundred
thousand human beings ; their life will suck you up in itself,
but still, you won't disappear having influenced nobody ; j
later on, others like you will come, perhaps six of them, then
twelve, and so on, until at last your sort will be in the '
majority. Jn two or three hundred years' time life on this j;
earth will be unimaginably beautiful and wonderful. Man- I
kind needs such a life, and if it is not ours to-day then we |
must look ahead for it, wait, think, prepare for it. We must |
see and know more than our fathers and grandfathers saw j
and knew. [Laughs] And you complain that you know too j
much.
ACT i THE THREE SISTERS 145
MASHA. [ 7W off hn- h<it\ I'll stay to lunch.
IIMNA. [tiiyhs] Yes, all that ought to be written down.
^. A^DRF.Y hut <jon<' (Hit f/'ticfllfc,
Ttv.KN'TUfii. You say that many years later on, life
on this earth will be beautiful and wonderful. That's true.
But to share in it now, even though at a distance, we must
prepare by work. . . .
VERSHININ. [Gets up] Yes. What a lot of flowers you
have. [Looks round] It's a beautiful flat. I envy you !
I've spent my whole life in rooms with two chairs,
one sofa, and fires which always smoke. I've never had
flowers like these in my life. . . . [Rubs his han^ds] Well,
well!
TUZENBACH. Yes, we must work. You are probably
thinking to yourself : the German lets himself go. But I
assure you I'm a Russian, I can't even speak German. My
father belonged to the Orthodox Church. . . . [Pause.
VERSHININ. [Walks about the stage] I often wonder : sup-
pose we could begin life over again, knowing what we were
doing ? Suppose we could use one life, already ended, as a
sort of rough draft for another ? I think that every one of
us would try, more than anything else, not to repeat himself,
at the very least he would rearrange his manner of life,
he would make sure of rooms like these, with flowers and
light ... I have a wife and two daughters, my wife's
health is delicate and so on and so on, and if I had to begin
lit'i> all OVT auain I would not marry. . . . No, no !
/ KULIGIN in a regulation jacket.
KULIGIN. [Going up to IRINA] Dear sister, allow me to
congratulate you on the day sacred to your good angel and
to wish you, sincerely and from the bottom of my heart,
good health and all that ono can wish for a girl of your
years. And then let me offer you this book as a present.
K
146 THE THREE SISTERS ACTI
[Gives it to her] It is the history of our High School during
the last fifty years, written by myself. The book is worth-
less, and written because I had nothing to do, but read it
all the same. Good day, gentlemen ! [To VERSHININ] My
name is Kuligin, I am a master of the local High School.*
[To IRINA] In this book you will find a list of all those who
have taken the full course at our High School during these
fifty years. Fed quod potui, faciant meliora potentes.
[Kisses MASHA.
IRINA. But you gave me one of these at Easter.
KULIGIN. [Laughs] I couldn't have, surely ! You'd better
give it back to me in that case, or else give it to the Colonel.
Take it, colonel. You'll read it some day when you're
bored.
VERSHININ. Thank you. [Prepares to go] I am extremely
happy to have made the acquaintance of ...
OLGA. Must you go ? No, not yet ?
IRINA. You'll stop and have lunch with us. Please do.
OLGA. Yes, please !
VERSHININ. [Bows] I seem to have dropped in on your
name-day. Forgive me, I didn't know, and I didn't ofier
you my congratulations. . . .
[Goes with OLGA into the dining-room.
KULIGIN. To-day is Sunday, the day of rest, so let us
rest and rejoice, each in a manner compatible with his age
and disposition. The carpets will have to be taken up
for the summer and put away till the winter . . . Persian
powder or naphthaline. . . . The Komans were healthy
because they knew both how to work and how to rest, they
had mens sana in corpore sano. Their life ran along certain
* He adds that he is a Nadvorny Sovetnik (almost the same as a
German Hofrat), an undistinguished civilian title with no English
equivalent.
ACT i THE THREE SISTERS 147
'recognized patterns. Our director says : " The chief thing
about each life is its pattern. Whoever loses his pattern
i is lost himself" and it's just the same in our daily life.
i [Takes MASHA by the waist, laughing] Masha loves me. My
'wife loves me. And you ought to put the window curtains
away with the carpets. . . . I'm feeling awfully pleased
with life to-day. Masha, we've got to be at the director's
at four. They're getting up a walk for the pedagogues and
their families.
MASHA. I shan't^go.
KULIGIN. [Hurt] My dear Masha, why not ?
MASHA. I'll tell you later. . . . [Angrily] All right, I'll
go, only please stand back. T . . [Steps away.
KULIGIN. And then we're to spend the evening at the
director's. In spite of his ill-health that man tries, above
everything else, to be sociable. A splendid, illuminating
personality. A wonderful man. After yesterday's com-
mittee he said to me : " I'm tired, Feodor Hitch, I'm tired!"
[Looks at the clock, then at his watch] Your clock is seven
minutes fast. . " Yes," he said, " I'm tired."
[Violin played off.
OLGA. Let's go and have lunch ! There's to be a master-
piece of baking !
KULIGIN. Oh my dear Olga, my dear. Yesterday I was
working till eleven o'clock at night, and got awfully tired.
To-day I'm quite happy. [Goes into dining-room] My
dear . . .
CHEBUTIKIN. [Puts his paper into his pocket, and combs
his beard] A pie 1 Splendid !
MASHA. [Severely to CHEBUTIKIN] Only mind ; you're
not to drink anything to-day. Do you hear ? It's bad
for you.
CHEBUTIKIN. Oh, that's all right. I haven't been
148 T H E T H R E E S I S T E R S ACT i
drunk for two years. And it's all the same, any-
way !
MASHA. You're not to dare to drink, all the same.
[Angrily, but so that her husband should not hear] Another
dull evening at the Director's, confound it !
TUZENBACH. I shouldn't go if I were you. . . . It's quite
simple.
CHEBUTIKIN. Don't go.
MASHA. Yes, " don't go. . . ." It's a cursed, unbearable
life. . . . [Goes into dining-room.
CHEBUTIKIN. [Follows her] It's not so bad.
SOLENI. [Going into the dining-room] There, there,
there. . . .
TUZENBACH. Vassili Vassilevitch, that's enough. Be
quiet !
SOLENI. There, there, there. . . .
KULIGIN. [Gaily] Your health, Colonel ! I'm a peda-
gogue and not quite at home here. I'm Masha's husband.
. . . She's a good sort, a very good sort. . . .
VERSHININ. I'll have some of this black vodka. . . .
[Drinks] Your health ! [To OLGA] I'm very comfortable
here !
Only IBINA and TUZENBACH are now left in the
sitting -room.
IRINA. Masha's out of sorts to-day. She married when
she was eighteen, when he seemed to her the wisest of men.
And now it's different. He's the kindest man, but not the
wisest.
OLGA. [Impatiently] Andrey, when are you coming ?
ANDREY. [Off] One minute. [Enters and goes to the table.
TUZENBACH. What are you thinking about ?
IRINA. I don't like this Soleni of yours and I'm afraid
of him. He only says silly things.
ACT i THE THREE SISTERS 149
TUZENBACH. He's a queer man. I'm sorry for him,
though he vexes me. I think he's shy. When there
are just the two of us he's quite all right and very good
company ; when other people are about he's rough and
hectoring. Don't let's go in, let them have their meal with-
out us. Let me stay with you. What are you thinking
of ? [Pause] You're twenty. I'm not yet thirty. How
many years are there left to us, with their long, long lines of
days, filled with my love for you. . . .
IRINA. Nicolai Lvovitch, don't speak to me of love.
TUZENBACH. [Does not hear] I've a great thirst for life,
struggle, and work, and this thirst has united with my love
for you, Irina, and you're so beautiful, and life seems so
beautiful to me ! What are you thinking about ?
IRINA. You say that life is beautiful. Yes, if only it
seems so ! The life of us three hasn't been beautiful yet ;
it has been stifling us as if it was weeds . . . I'm crying. I
oughtn't. . . . [Dries her tears, smiles] We must work,
work. That is why we are unhappy and look at the world
so sadly ; we don't know what work is. Our parents
despised work. . . .
Enter NATALIA IVANOVNA ; she wears a pink dress
and a green sash.
NATASHA. They're already at lunch . . . I'm late . . .
[Carefully examines herself in a mirror, and puts herself
xtrnitjht] I think my hair's done all right. . . . [Sees IRINA]
Dear Irina Sergeyevna, I congratulate you! [Kisses
he i- firmly and at length] You've so many visitors, I'm really
uied. . . . How do you do, Baron !
OLGA. [Enters from dining-room] Here's Natalia Ivau-
uviui. How are you, dear ! [They kiss.
NATASHA. Happy returns. I'm awfully shy, you've
so many people here.
150 THE THREE SISTERS ACTI
OLGA. All our friends. [Frightened, in an undertone}
You're wearing a green sash ! My dear, you shouldn't !
NATASHA. Is it a sign of anything ?
OLGA. No, it simply doesn't go well . . . and it looks so
queer.
NATASHA. [In a tearful voice] Yes ? But it isn't really
green, it's too dull for that.
[Goes into dining-room with OLGA.
They have all sat down to lunch in the dining-room t the
sitting-room is empty.
KULIGIN. I wish you a nice fiance, Irina. It's quite
time you married.
CHEBUTIKIN. Natalia Ivanovna, I wish you the same.
KULIGIN. Natalia Ivanovna has & fiance already.
MASHA. [Raps with her fork on a plate] Let's all get
drunk and make life purple for once !
KULIGIN. You've lost three good conduct marks.
VERSHININ. This is a nice drink. What's it made of ?
SOLENI. Blackbeetles.
IRINA. [Tearfully] Phoo ! How disgusting !
OLGA. There is to be a roast turkey and a sweet apple pie
for dinner. Thank goodness I can spend all day and the
evening at home. You'll come in the evening, ladies and
gentlemen. . . .
VERSHININ. And please may I come in the evening !
IRINA. Please do.
NATASHA. They don't stand on ceremony here.
CHEBUTIKIN. Nature only brought us into the world that
we should love ! [Laughs.
ANDRE Y. [Angrily] Please don't ! Aren't you tired of
it?
Enter FEDOTIK and BODE with a large basket of
flowers.
ACT i THE THREE SISTERS 151
FEDOTIK. They're lunching already.
RODE. [Loudly and thickly] Lunching ? Yes, so they
are. . . .
FEDOTIK. Wait a minute ! [Takes a photograph] That's
one. No, just a moment. . . . [Takes another] That's
two. Now we're ready !
They take the basket and go into the dining-room, where
they have a noisy reception.
RODE. [Loudly] Congratulations and best wishes ! Lovely
weather to-day, simply perfect. Was out walking with the
High School students all the morning. I take their drills.
FEDOTIK. You may move, Irina Sergeyevna ! [Takes a
photograph] You look well to-day. [Takes a humming-top'out
of his pocket] Here's a humming-top, by the way. It's got
a lovely note !
IRINA. How awfully nice !
MASHA. " There stands a green oak by the sea,
And a chain of bright gold is around it ...
And a chain of bright gold is around it ..."
[Tearfully] What am I saying that for ? I've had those
words running in my head all day. . . .
KULIQIN. There are thirteen at table !
RODE. [Aloud] Surely you don't believe in that super-
stition ? [LaugJiter.
KULIGIN. If there are thirteen at table then it means
there are lovers present. It isn't you, Ivan Romanovitch,
hang it all. . . . [Laughter.
CHEBUTIKIN. I'm a hardened sinner, but I really don't
see why Natalia Ivanovna should blush. . . .
Loud laughter ; NATASHA runs out into the sitting-
room, followed by ANDRE Y.
AUDREY. Don't pay any attention to them ! Wait . . .
do stop, please. . . .
152 THE THREE SISTERS ACTI
NATASHA. Fm shy . . .. I don't know what's the matter
with me and they're all laughing at me. It wasn't nice of
me to leave the table like that, but I can't ... I can't.
[Covers her face with her hands.
ANDREY. My dear, I beg you. I implore you not to
excite yourself. I assure you they're only joking, they're
kind people. My dear, good girl, they're all kind and
sincere people, and they like both you and me. Come here
to the window, they can't see us here. . . . [Looks round.
NATASHA. I'm so unaccustomed to meeting people !
ANDREY. Oh your youth, your splendid, beautiful youth !
My darling, don't be so excited ! Believe me, believe me
. . . I'm so happy, my soul is full of love, of ecstasy. . . .
They don't see us ! They can't ! Why, why or when did I
fall in love with you Oh, I can't understand anything.
My dear, my pure darling, be my wife ! I love you, love
you ... as never before. . . . [They kiss.
Two officers come in and, seeing the lovers kiss, stop
in astonishment.
Curtain.
ACT II
" as before. It is 8 p.m. Somebody is heard playing
a concertina outside in the street. There is no fire.
NATALYA IVANOVNA enters in indoor dress carrying a
candle ; she stops by the door which leads into ANDRE Y'S
room .
NATASHA. What are you doing, Andrey ? Are you
reading ? It's nothing, only I. ... [She opens another
door, and looks in, then closes it] Isn't there any fire. . . .
ANDREY. [Enters with book in hand] What are you doing,
Natasha ?
NATASHA. I was looking to see if there wasn't a fire. It's
Shrovetide, and the servant is simply beside herself ; I
must look out that something doesn't happen. When I
came through the dining-room yesterday midnight, there
t candle burning. I couldn't get her to tell me who
hid lighted it. [Puts down her candle] What's the time ?
ANDREY. [Looks at his watch] A quarter past eight.
NATASHA. And Olga and Irina aren't in yet. The poor
things are still at work. Olga at the teacher's council, v
Irina at the telegraph office. . . . [Sighs} I said to your
this morning, " Irina, darling, you must take care of
yourself." But she pays no attention. Did you say it was
rtn past eight ? I am afraid little Bobby is quite ill.
Why i.s he .so cold * He was feverish yesterday, but to-day
h- is quite cold ... I am so frightened !
ANDHEV. It's all right. Natasha. The boy is well.
153
154 THE THREE SISTERS ACTII
NATASHA. Still, I think we ought to put him on a diet.
I am so afraid. And the entertainers were to be here after
nine ; they had better not come, Andrey.
ANDREY. I don't know. After all, they were asked.
NATASHA. This morning, when the little boy woke up and
saw me he suddenly smiled ; that means he knew me.
" Good morning, Bobby ! " I said, " good morning, darling."
And he laughed. Children understand, they understand
very well. So I'll tell them, Andrey dear, not to receive
the entertainers.
ANDREY. [Hesitatingly] But what about my sisters.
This is their flat.
NATASHA. They'll do as I want them. They are so kind.
. . . [Going] I ordered sour milk for supper. The doctor
says you must eat sour milk and nothing else, or you won't
get thin. [Stops] Bobby is so cold. I'm afraid his room is
too cold for him. It would be nice to put him into another
room till the warm weather comes. Irina's room, for
instance, is just right for a child : it's dry and has the sun
all day. I must tell her, she can share Olga's room. . . .
It isn't as if she was at home in the daytime, she only sleeps
here. . . . [A pause] Andrey, darling, why are you so
silent ?
ANDREY. I was just thinking. . . . There is really no-
thing to say. . . .
NATASHA. Yes . . . there was something I wanted to
tell you. . . . Oh, yes. Ferapont has come from the
Council offices, he wants to see you.
ANDREY. [Yawns] Call him here.
NATASHA goes out ; ANDREY reads his look, stooping
over the candle she has left behind. FERAPONT
enters ; he wears a tattered old coat with the collar
up. His ears are muffled.
ACT ii THE THREE SISTERS 155
ANDRE Y. Good morning, grandfather. What have you
to say ?
FERAPONT. The Chairman sends a book and some docu-
ments or other. Here. . . .
[Hands him a book and a packet.
ANDREY. Thank you. It's all right. Why couldn't
you come earlier ? It's past eight now.
FERAPONT. What ?
ANDREY. [Louder] I say you've come late, it's past eight.
FERAPONT. Yes, yes. I came when it was still light,
but they wouldn't let me in. They said you were busy.
Well, what was I to do. If you're busy, you're busy, and
I'm in no hurry. [He thinks that ANDREY is asking him
something] What ?
ANDREY. Nothing. [Looks through the book] To-morrow's
Friday. I'm not supposed to go to work, but I'll come
all the same . . . and do some work. It's dull at home.
. . . [Pause] Oh, my dear old man, how strangely life
changes, and how it deceives ! To-day, out of sheer bore-
dom, I took up this book old university lectures, and I
couldn't help laughing. My God, I'm secretary of the
local district council, the council which has Protopopov
for its chairman, yes, I'm the secretary, and the summit
of my ambitions is to become a member of the council !
I to be a member of the local district council, I, who dream'
every night that I'm a professor of Moscow University, a
famous scholar of whom all Russia is proud ! s
FERAPONT. I can't tell . . . I'm hard of hearing. . . .
ANDREY. If you weren't, I don't suppose I should talk
to you. I've got to talk to somebody, and my wife doesn't
understand me, and I'm a bit afraid of my sisters I don't
know why unless it is that they may make fun of me and
make me feel ashamed ... I don't drink, I don't like
156 THE THREE SISTERS ACT n
public-houses, but how I should like to be sitting just now in
Tyestov's place in Moscow, or at the Great Moscow, old
fellow !
FERAPONT. Moscow ? That's where a contractor was
once telling that some merchants or other were eating pan-
cakes ; one ate forty pancakes and he went and died, he
was saying. Either forty or fifty. I forget which.
ANDRE Y. In Moscow you can sit in an enormous restau-
rant where you don't know anybody and where nobody
knows you, and you don't feel all the same that you're a
stranger. And here you know everybody and everybod
knows you, and you're a stranger . and a.4ondv_tranger_.
FERAPONT. What? And the same contractor was tellmg
perhaps he was lying that there was a cable stretching
right across Moscow.
ANDRE Y. What for ?
FERAPONT. I can't tell. The contractor said so.
ANDRE Y. Rubbish. [He reads] Were you ever in Mos-
cow ?
FERAPONT. [After a pause] No. God did not lead me
there. [Pause] Shall I go ?
ANDRE Y. You may go. Good-bye. [FERAPONT goes]
Good-bye. [Reads] You can come to-morrow and fetch
these documents. . . . Go along. . . . [Pause] He's gone.
[A ring] Yes, yes. . . .
[Stretches himself and slowly goes into his own room.
Behind the scene the nurse is singing a lullaby to the
child. MASHA and VERSHININ come in. While
they talk, a maidservant lights candles and a lamp.
MASHA. I don't know. [Pause} I don't know. Of course,
habit counts for a great deal. After father's death, for
instance, it took us a long time to get used to the absence
of orderlies. But, apart from habit, it seems to me in all
ACT ii THE THREE SISTERS 157
fairness that, however it may be in other towns, the best
and most-educated people are army men.
VERSHININ. I'm thirsty. I should like some tea.
MASHA. [Glancing at her watch] They'll bring some soon.
I was given in marriage when I was eighteen, and I was
afraid of my husband because he was a teacher and I'd only
just left school. He then seemed to me frightfully wise and
learned and important. And now, unfortunately, that has
changed.
VERSHININ. Yes . . . yes.
MASHA. I don't speak of my husband, I've grown used to
him, but civilians in general are so often coarse, impolite,
uneducated. Their rudeness offends me, it angers me. I
suffer when I see that a man isn't quite sufficiently refined,
or delicate, or polite. I simply suffer agonies when I happen
to be among schoolmasters, my husband's colleagues.
VERSHININ. Yes. ... It seems to me that civilians and
army men are equally interesting, in this town, at any rate.
It's all the same ! If you listen to a member of the local
intelligentsia, whether to civilian or military, he will tell you
that he's sick of his wife, sick of his house, sick of his
estate, sick of his horses. . . . We Russians are extremely Ij
gifted in the direction of thinking on an exalted plane, but, [/
tell me, why do we aim so low in real life ? Why ?
MASHA. Why ?
VEPSHININ. Why is a Russian sick of his children, sick
of his wife ? And why are his wife and children sick of
him ?
MASHA. You're a little downhearted to-day.
VERSHININ. Perhaps I am. I haven't had any dinner,
I've had nothing since the morning. My daughter is a little
unwell, and when my girls are ill, I get very anxious and
my conscience tortures me because they have such a
158
THE THREE SISTERS ACT n
mother. Oh, if you had seen her to-day ! What a trivial
personality ! We began quarrelling^at seven in the morning
and at nine I slammed the door and went out. [Pause] I
never speak of her, it's strange that I bear my complaints
to you alone. [Kisses her hand] Don't be angry with me.
I haven't anybody but you, nobody at all. . . . [Pause.
MASHA. What a noise in the oven. Just before father's
death there was a noise in the pipe, just like that.
VERSHININ. Are you superstitious ?
MASHA. Yes.
VERSHININ. That's strange. [Kisses her hand] You are a
splendid, wonderful woman. Splendid, wonderful 1 It is
dark here, but I see your sparkling eyes.
MASHA. [Sits on another chair] There is more light here.
VERSHININ. I love you, love you, love you ... I love
your eyes, your movements, I dream of them. . . . Splendid,
wonderful woman !
MASHA. [Laughing] When you talk to me like that, I
laugh ; I don't know why, for I'm afraid. Don't repeat it,
please. . . . [In an undertone] No, go on, it's all the same
to me. . . . [Covers her face with her hands] Somebody's
coming, let's talk about something else. . . .
IRINA and TUZENBACH come in through the dining-
room.
TUZENBACH. My surname is really triple. I am called
Baron Tuzenbach-Krone-Altschauer, but I am Russian and
Orthodox, the same as you. There is very little German
left in me, unless perhaps it is the patience and the
obstinacy with which I bore you. I see you home every
night.
IRINA. How tired I am !
TUZENBACH. And I'll come to the telegraph office to see
you home every day for ten or twenty years, until you drive
ACT ii THE THREE SISTERS 159
me away. [He sees MASHA and VERSHININ ; joyfully] Is that
you ? How do you do.
IRINA. Well, I am home at last. [To MASHA] A lady
came to-day to telegraph to her brother in Saratov that her
spn died to-day, and she couldn't remember the address
anyhow. So she sent the telegram without an address,
just to Saratov. She was crying. And for some reason or
other I was rude to her. " I've no time/' I said. It was
so stupid. Are the entertainers coming to-night ?
MASHA. Yes.
IRINA. [Sitting down in an armchair] I want a rest. I am
tired.
TUZENBACH. [Smiling] When you come home from your
work you seem so young, and so unfortunate. . . .
[Pause.
IRINA. I am tired. No, I don't like the telegraph office,
I don't like it.
MASHA. You've grown thinner. . . . [Whistles a little]
And you look younger, and your face has become like a boy's.
TUZENBACH. That's the way she does her hair.
IRINA. I must find another job, this one won't do for
me. What I wanted, what I hoped to get, just that is
lacking here. Labour without poetry, without ideas. . . .
[A knock on the floor] The doctor is knocking. [To TUZEN-
BACH] Will you knock, dear. I can't . . . I'm tired. . . .
[TUZENBACH knocks] He'll come in a minute. Something
ought to be done. Yesterday the doctor and Andrey
played cards at the club and lost money. Andrey seems to
have lost 200 roubles.
MASHA. [With indifference] What can we do now ?
IRINA. He lost money a fortnight ago, he lost money in
December. Perhaps if he lost everything we should go
away from this town. Oh, my God, I dream of Moscow
160 THE THREE SISTERS ACT n
every night. I'm just like a lunatic. [Laughs] We go there
in June, and before June there^s still . . . February, March,
April, May . . . nearly half a year !
MASHA. Only Natasha mustn't get to know of these
losses.
IRINA. I expect it will be all the same to her.
CHEBUTIKIN, who has only just got out of bed he was
resting after dinner comes into the dining-room
and combs his beard. He then sits by the table and
takes a newspaper from his pocket.
MASHA. Here he is. . . . Has he paid his rent ?
IRINA. [Laughs] No. He's been here eight months and
hasn't paid a copeck. Seems to have forgotten.
MASHA. [Laughs] What dignity in his pose !
[They all laugh. A pause.
IRINA. Why are you so silent, Alexander Ignateyevitch ?
VERSHTNIN. I don't know. I want some tea. Half my
life for a tumbler of tea : I haven't had anything since
morning.
CHEBUTIKIN. Irina Sergeyevna !
IRINA. What is it ?
CHEBUTIKIN. Please come here, Venez id. [IwsAgoesand
sits by the table] I can't do without you.
[IRINA begins to play patience.
VERSHININ. Well, if we can't have any tea, let's philoso-
phize, at any rate.
TUZENBACH. Yes, let's. About what ?
VERSHININ. About what ? Let us meditate . . . about
life as it will be after our time ; for example, in two or three
hundred years.
TUZENBACH. Well ? After our time people will fly about
in balloons, the cut of one's coat will change, perhaps they'll
discover a sixth sense and develop it, but life will remain
ACTII THE THREE SISTERS 161
the^same, laborious, mysterious, and happy. And in a
thousand years' time, people will still be sighing : " Life is
hard ! " and at the same time they'll be just as afraid of
death, and unwilling to meet it, as we are.
VERSHININ. [Thoughtfully] How can I put it ? It seems
to me that everything on earth must change, little by little,
and is already changing under our very eyes. After two
or three hundred years, after a thousand the actual time
doesn't matter a n^w and happy age will begin.. We, of \
course, shall not take part in it, but we live and work and
even suffer to-day that it should come, ^e create iWand
in that one object is our destiny and, if you like, our
happiness.
MASHA laughs softly.
TUZENBACH. What is it ?
MASHA. I don't know. I've been laughing all day, ever
since morning.
VERSHININ. I finished my education at the same point
as you, I have not studied at universities ; I read a lot, but
I cannot choose my books and perhaps what I read is not
at all what I should, but the longer I love, the more I want to
know. My hair is turning white, I am nearly an old man now, \
but I know so little, oh, so little ! But I think I know the
things that matter most, and that are most real. I know
them well. And I wish I could make you understand that
there is no happiness for us, that there should not and cannot v
be. ... We must only work and work, and happiness is
only for our distant posterity. [Pause] If not for me, then
for the descendants of my descendants.
FEDOTIK and RODE come into the dining-room ; they
sit and sing softly, strumming on a guitar.
TUZENBACH. According to you, one should not even think
about happiness ! But suppose I am happy !
162 THE THREE SISTERS ACTII
VERSHININ. No.
TUZENBACH. [Moves his hands and laughs] We do not
seem to understand each other. How can I convince you ?
[MASHA laughs quietly, TUZENBACH continues, pointing at
her] Yes, laugh ! [To VERSHININ] Not only after two or
three centuries, but in a million years, life will still be as it
was ; life does not change, it remains for ever, following its
own laws which do not concern us, or which, at any rate, you
will never find out. Migrant birds, cranes for example, fly
and fly, and whatever thoughts, high or low, enter their
heads, they will still fly and not know why or where. They
fly and will continue to fly, whatever philosophers come to
life among them ; they may philosophize as much as they
like, only they will fly. . . .
MASHA. Still, is there a meaning ?
TUZENBACH. A meaning. . . . Now the snow is falling.
What meaning ? [Pause.
MASHA. JItjseems to me that a man must have faith, or
must search for a faith, or his life will be empty, empty. . . .
To live and not to know why the cranes fly, why babies are
born, why there are stars in the sky. . . . Either you must
know why you live, or everything is trivial, not worth a
straw. [A pause.
VERSHININ. Still, I am sorry that my youth has
gone.
MASHA. Gogol says : life_injthis_worldj.s a dulljnatter,
my masters !
TUZENBACH. And I say it's difficult to argue with you,
my masters ! Hang it all.
CHEBUTIKIN. [Reading] Balzac was married at Berdichev.
[!RINA is singing softly] That's worth making a note of.
[He makes a note] Balzac was married at Berdichev.
[Goes on reading.
ACT ii THE THREE SISTERS 163
IRINA. [Laying out cards, thoughtfully] Balzac was married
at Berdichev.
TUZENBACH. The die is cast. I've handed in my resigna-
tion, Maria Sergeyevna.
MASHA. So I heard. I don't see what good it is ; I don't
like civilians.
TUZENBACH. Never mind. . . . [Gets up] I'm not hand-
some ; what use am I as a soldier ? Well, it makes no
difference ... I shall work. If only just once in my life
I could work so that I could come home in the evening, fall
exhausted on my bed, and go to sleep at o.nce. [Going into
the dining-room] Workmen, I suppose, do sleep soundly !
FEDOTIK. [To IRINA] I bought some coloured pencils for
you at Pizhikov's in the Moscow Road, just now. And here
is a little knife.
IRINA. You have got into the habit of behaving to me
as if I am a little girl, but I am grown up. [Takes the pencils
and the knife, then, with joy] How lovely !
FEDOTIK. And I bought myself a knife . . . look at it
. . . one blade, another, a third, an ear-scoop, scissors, nail-
cleaners. . . .
RODE. [Loudly] Doctor, how old are you ?
CHEBUTIKIN. I ? Thirty-two. [Laughter.
FEDOTIK. I'll show you another kind of patience. . . .
[Lays out cards.
A samovar is brought in ; ANFISA attends to it ; a
little later NATASHA enters and helps by the table ;
SOLENI arrives and, after greetings, sits by the
table.
VERSHININ. What a wind !
MASHA. Yes. I'm tired of winter. I've already for-
gotten what summer's like.
IRINA. It's coming out, I see. We're going to Moscow.
164 THE THREE SISTERS ACTII
FEDOTIK. No, it won't come out. Look, the eight was
on the two of spades. [Laughs] That means you won't go to
Moscow.
CHEBUTIKIN. [Reading paper] Tsitsigar. Smallpox is
raging here.
ANFISA. [Coming up to MASHA] Masha, have some tea,
little mother. [To VERSHININ] Please have some, sir . . '.
excuse me, but I've forgotten your name. . . .
MASHA. Bring some here, nurse. I shan't go over there.
IRINA. Nurse !
ANFISA. Coming, coming !
NATASHA. [To SOLENI] Children at the breast understand
perfectly. I said " Good morning, Bobby ; good morning,
dear ! " And he looked at me in quite an unusual way.
You think it's only the mother in me that is speaking ; I
assure you that isn't so ! He's a wonderful child.
SOLENI. If he was my child I'd roast him on a frying-pan'
and eat him.
Takes his tumbler into the drawing-room and sits in a
corner.
NATASHA. [Covers her face in her hands] Vulgar, ill-bred
man !
MASHA. He's lucky who doesn't notice whether it's winter
now, or summer. I think that if I were in Moscow, I
shouldn't mind about the weather.
VERSHININ. A few days ago I was reading the prison
diary of a French minister. He had been sentenced on
account of the Panama scandal. With what joy, what
delight, he speaks of the birds he saw through the prison
windows, which he had never noticed while he was a
minister. Now, of course, that he is at liberty, he notices
birds no more than he did before. When you go to live I
in Moscow you'll not notice it, in just the same way. j
ACTII THE THREE SISTERS 165
\ There can be no happiness for us, it only exists in our \
\ wishes.
TUZENBACH. [Takes cardboard box from the table] Where
are the pastries ?
IRINA. Soleni has eaten them.
TUZENBACH. All of them ?
ANFISA. [Serving tea] There's a letter for you.
VERSHININ. For me ? [Takes the letter] From my daugh-
ter. [Reads] Yes, of course ... I will go quietly. Excuse
me, Maria Sergeyevna. I shan't have any tea. [Stands up,
excited] That eternal story. . . .
MASHA. What is it ? Is it a secret ?
VERSHININ. [Quietly] My wife has poisoned herself again, v
I must go. I'll go out quietly. It's aU&wfuUy unpleasant.
[Kisses MASHA'S hand] My dear, my splendid, good woman
. . . I'll go this way, quietly. [Exit.
ANFISA. Where has he gone ? And I'd served tea. . . .
What a man.
MASHA. [Angrily] Be quiet ! You bother so one can't
have a moment's peace. . . . [Goes to the table with her
cup] I'm tired of you, old woman !
ANFISA. My dear ! Why are you offended !
ANDRE Y'S VOICE. Anfisa !
ANFISA. [Mocking] Anfisa ! He sits there and . . . [Exit.
MASHA. [In the dining-room, by the table angrily} Let me
sit down ! [Disturbs the cards on the table] Here you are,
spreading your cards out. Have some tea !
IRINA. You are cross, Masha.
MASHA. If I am cross, then don't talk to me. Don't
touch me !
CHEBUTIKIN. Don't touch her, don't touch her. . . .
MASHA. You're sixty, but you're like a boy, always up
to some beastly nonsense.
166 THE THREE SISTERS ACTII
NATASHA. [Sighs] Dear Masha, why use such expressions?
With your beautiful exterior you would be simply fascina-
ting in good society, I tell you so directly, if it wasn't for
your words. Je vous pi'ie, pardonnez moi, Marie, mais vous
avez des manieres un peu grossieres.
TUZENBACH. [Restraining his laughter] Give me . . .
give me ... there's some cognac, I think.
NATASHA. II parait, que mon Bdbick deja ne dort pas, he
has awakened. He isn't well to-day. I'll go to him, excuse
me. . \ < [Exit.
IRINA. Where has Alexander Ignateyevitch gone ?
MASHA. Home. Something extraordinary has happened
to his wife again.
TUZENBACH. [Goes to SOLENI with a cognac-flask in his
hands] You go on sitting by yourself, thinking of something
goodness knows what. Come and let's make peace.
Let's have some cognac. [They drink] I expect I'll have
to play the piano all night, some rubbish most likely . . .
well, so be it !
SOLENI. Why make peace ? I haven't quarrelled with
you.
TUZENBACH. You always make me feel as if something
has taken place between us. You've a strange character,
you must admit.
SOLENI. [Declaims] "I am strange, but who is not ?
Don't be angry, Aleko ! "
TUZENBACH. And what has Aleko to do with it ?
[Pause.
SOLENI. When I'm with one other man I behave just
like everybody else, but in company I'm dull and shy and
. . . talk all manner of rubbish. But I'm more honest and
more honourable than very, very many people. And I can
prove it.
ACT ii THE THREE SISTERS 1CT
TUZENBACH. I often get angry with you, you always
fasten on to me in company, but I like you all the same.
I'm going to drink my fill to-night, whatever happens.
Drink, now !
SOLENI. Let's drink. [They drink} I never had anything
against you, Baron. But my character is like Lermontov's
[In a low voice] I even rather resemble Lermontov, they
say. . . .
Takes a scent-bottle from his pocket, and scents his
hands.
TUZENBACH. I've sent in my resignation. Basta ! I've
been thinking about it for five yeais, and at last made up
my mind. I shall work.
SOLENI. [Declaims] " Do not be angry, Aleko . . . forget,
forget, thy dreams of yore. ..."
While he is speaking ANDREY enters quietly with a
book, and sits by the table.
TUZENBACH. I shall work.
CHEBUTIKIN. [Going with IRINA into the dining-room} And
the food was also real Caucasian onion soup, and, for a roast,
some chehartma.
SOLENI. Cheremsha* isn't meat at all, but a plant some-
thing like an onion.
CHEBUTIKIN. No, my angel. Chehartma isn't onion, but
roast mutton.
SOLENI. And I tell you, cheremsha is a sort of onion.
CHEBUTIKIN. And I tell you, chehartma is mutton.
SOLENI. And I tell you, cheremsha is a sort of onion.
CHEBUTIKIN. What's the use of arguing ! You've never
been in the Caucasus, and never ate any chehartma.
SOLENI. I never ate it, because I hate it. It smells like
garlic.
* A yariety of garlic.
168 THE THREE SISTERS ACTII
ANDRE Y. [Imploring] Please, please ! I ask you !
TUZENBACH. When are the entertainers coming ?
IRINA. They promised for about nine ; that is, quite soon.
TUZENBACH. [Embraces ANDREY]
" Oh my house, my house, my new-built house."
ANDREY. [Dances and sings]
" Newly-built of maple-wood."
CHEBUTIKIN. [Dances]
" Its walls are like a sieve ! " [Laughter.
TUZENBACH. [Kisses ANDREY] Hang it all, let's drink.
Andrey, old boy, let's drink with you. And I'll go with
you, Andrey, to the University of Moscow.
SOLENI. Which one ? There are two universities in
Moscow.
ANDREY. There's one university in Moscow.
SOLENI. Two, I tell you.
ANDREY. Don't care if there are three. So much the
better.
SOLENI. There are two universities in Moscow ! [There
are murmurs and " hushes"] There are two universities in
i Moscow, the old one and the new one. And if you don't like
to listen, if my words annoy you, then I need not speak. I
can even go into another room. . . . [Exit.
TUZENBACH. Bravo, bravo ! [Laughs] Come on, now.
I'm going to play. Funny man, Soleni. . . .
[Goes to the piano and plays a waltz.
MASHA. [Dancing solo] The Baron's drunk, the Baron's
drunk, the Baron's drunk !
NATASHA comes in.
NATASHA. [To CHEBUTIKIN] Ivan Eomanovitch !
Says something to CHEBUTIKIN, then goes out quietly ;
CHEBUTIKIN touches TUZENBACH on the shoulder
and whispers something to him.
ACT ii THE THREE SISTERS 169
IRINA. What is it ?
CHEBUTIKIN. Time for us to go. Good-bye.
TUZENBACH. Good-night. It's time we went.
IRINA. But, really, the entertainers ?
ANDRE Y. [In confusion] There won't be any entertainers.
You see, dear, Natasha says that Bobby isn't quite well,
and so. ... In a word, I don't care, and it's absolutely
all one to me.
IRINA. [Shrugging her shoulders] Bobby ill !
MASHA. What is she thinking of ! Well, if they are sent
home, I suppose they must go. [To IRINA] Bobby's all right,
it's she herself. . . . Here ! [Taps her forehead] Little
bourgeoise !
ANDRE Y goes to his room through the right-hand door,
CHEBUTIKIN follows him. In the dining-room they
are saying good-bye.
FEDOTIK. What a shame ! I was expecting to spend the
evening here, but of course, if the little baby is ill ... I'll
bring him some toys to-morrow.
RODE. [Loudly] I slept late after dinner to-day because
I thought I was going to dance all night. It's only nine
o'clock now !
MASHA. Let's go into the street, we can talk there.
Then we can settle things.
Good-byes and good nights are heard. TUZENBACH'S
merry laughter is heard. [All go out] ANFISA AND
the maid clear the tabk, and put out the lights. [The
'' sings] ANDREY, wearing an overcoat and
a hat, and CHEBUTIKIN enter silently.
CHEBUTIKIN. I never managed to get married be-
cause my life flashed by like lightning, and because
I was madly in love with your mother, who was
married.
170 THE THREE SISTERS ACTII
ANDEEY. One shouldn't marry. One shouldn't, because
it's dull.
CHEBUTIKIN. So there I am, in my loneliness. Say what
you will, loneliness is a terrible thing, old fellow. . . .
Though really ... of course, it absolutely doesn't matter !
ANDEEY. Let's be quicker.
CHEBUTIKIN. What are you in such a hurry for ? We
shall be in time.
ANDEEY. I'm afraid my wife may stop me.
CHEBUTIKIN. Ah !
ANDEEY. I shan't play to-night, I shall only sit and look
on. I don't feel very well. . . . What am I to do for my
asthma, Ivan Romanovitch ?
CHEBUTIKIN. Don't ask me ! I don't remember, old
fellow, I don't know.
ANDEEY. Let's go through the kitchen. [They go out.
A bell rings, then a second time ; voices and laughter
are heard.
IEINA. [Enters] What's that ?
ANFISA. [Whispers] The entertainers ! [Bell.
IEINA. Tell them there's nobody at home, nurse. They
must excuse us.
ANFISA goes out. IEINA walks about the room deep
in thought ; she is excited. SOLENI enters.
SOLENI. [In surprise] There's nobody here. . . . Where
are they all ?
IEINA. They've gone home.
SOLENI. How strange. Are you here alone ?
IEINA. Yes, alone. [A pause] Good-bye.
SOLENI. Just now I behaved tactlessly, with insufficient
reserve. But you are not like all the others, you are noble
and pure, you can see the truth. . . . You alone can under-
stand me. I love you, deeply, beyond measure, I love you.
ACT ii THE THREE SISTERS 171
IBINA. Good-bye ! Go away.
SOLENI. I cannot live without you. [Follows her] Oh,
my happiness ! [Through his tears] Oh, joy ! Wonderful,
marvellous, glorious eyes, such as I have never seen
before. . . .
IRINA. [Coldly] Stop it, Vassili Vassilevitch !
SOLENI. This is the first time I speak to you of love, and
it is as if I am no longer on the earth, but on another planet.
[Wipes his forehead] Well, never mind. I can't make you
love me by force, of course . . . but I don't intend to have
any more-favoured rivals. ... No ... I swear to you by
all the saints, I shall kill my rival. . . . Oh, beautiful one !
NATASHA enters wth a candle ; she looks in through
one door, then through another, and goes past the
door leading to her husband's room.
NATASHA. Here's Andrey. Let him go on reading.
Excuse me, Vassili Vassilevitcb, I did not know you were
here ; I am engaged in domesticities.
SOLENT. It's all the same to me. Good-bye ! [Exit.
NATASHA. You're so tired, my poor dear girl ! [Kisses
IRINA] If you only went to bed earlier.
IRINA. Is Bobby asleep ?
NATASHA. Yes, but restlessly. By the way, dear, I
wanted to tell you, but either you weren't at home, or I was
busy ... I think Bobby's present nursery is cold and
damp. And your room would be so nice for the child.
My dear, darling girl, do change over to Olga's for a bit !
IRINA. [Not understanding] Where ?
The bells of a troika are heard as it drives up to the
house.
NATASHA. You and Olga can share a room, for the time
being, and Bobby can have yours. He's such a darling ;
to-day I said to him, " Bobby, you're mine ! Mine ! "
172 THE THREE SISTERS ACTII
And he looked at me with his dear little eyes. [A bell rings]
It must be Olga. How late she is ! [The maid enters and
whispers to NATASHA] Protopopov ? What a queer man to
do such a thing. Protopopov's come and wants me to go for
a drive with him in his troika. [Laughs] How funny these
men are. . . . [A bell rings] Somebody has come. Suppose
I did go and have half an hour's drive. . . . [To the maid]
Say I shan't be long. [Bell rings] Somebody's ringing,
it must be Olga. [Exit.
The maid runs out ; IEINA sits deep in thought ;
KULIGIN and OLGA enter, followed by VERSHININ.
KULIGIN. Well, there you are. And you said there was
going to be a party.
VERSHININ. It's queer ; I went away not long ago, half
an hour ago, and they were expecting entertainers.
IRINA. They've all gone.
KULIGIN. Has Masha gone too ? Where has she gone ?
And what's Protopopov waiting for downstairs in his troika?
Whom is he expecting ?
IRINA. Don't ask questions . . . I'm tired.
KULIGIN. Oh, you're all whimsies. . . .
OLGA. My committee meeting is only just over. I'm
tired out. Our chairwoman is ill, so I had to take her place.
My head, my head is aching. . . . [Sits] Andrey lost 200
roubles at cards yesterday . . . the whole town is talking
about it. ...
KULIGIN. Yes, my meeting tired me too. [Sits.
VERSHININ. My wife took it into her head to frighten me
just now by nearly poisoning herself. It's all right now,
and I'm glad ; I can rest now. . . . But perhaps we ought
to go away ? Well, my best wishes, Feodor Hitch, let's go
somewhere together ! I can't, I absolutely can't stop at
home. . . Come on !
ACT ii THE THREE SISTERS 173
KULIGIN. I'm tired. I won't go. [Gets up] I'm tired.
Has my wife gone home ?
IRINA. I suppose so.
KULIGIN. [Kisses IRINA'S hand] Good-bye, I'm going to
rest all day to-morrow and the day after. Best wishes !
[Going] I should like some tea. I was looking forward to
spending the whole evening in pleasant company and o,
fallacem hominum spem / . . . Accusative case after an inter-
jection. . . .
VERSHININ. Then I'll go somewhere by myself.
[Exit with KULIGIN, whistling.
OLGA. I've such a headache . . . Andrey has been losing
money. . . . The whole town is talking. . . . I'll go and
lie down. [Going] I'm free to-morrow. . . . Oh, my God,
what a mercy ! I'm free to-morrow, I'm free the day after.
... Oh my had, my head. . . . [Exit.
IRINA. [alone] They've all gone. Nobody's left.
A concertina is being played in the street. The nurse
sings.
NATASHA, [in fur coat and cap y steps across the dining-room y
followed by the maid] I'll be back in^half an hour. I'm only
going for a little drive. [Exit.
IRINA. [Alone in her misery] To Moscow ! Moscow !
Moscow !
Curtain.
ACT III
The room shared by OLGA and IRINA. Beds, screened off, on
the right and left. It is past 2 a.m. Behind the stage
afire-alarm is ringing ; it has apparently been going for
some time. Nobody in the house has gone to bed yet.
MASH A is lying on a sofa dressed, as usual, in black.
Enter OLGA and ANFISA.
ANFISA. Now they are downstairs, sitting under the stairs.
I said to them, " Won't you come up," I said, " You can't
go on like this," and they simply cried, " We don't know
where father is." They said, " He may be burnt up by
now." What an idea ! And in the yard there are some
people . . . also undressed.
OLGA. [Takes a dress out of the cupboard] Take this grey
dress. . . . And this . . . and the blouse as well. . . .
Take the skirt, too, nurse. . . . My God ! How awful it
is ! The whole of the Kirsanovsky Koad seems to have
burned down. Take this . . . and this. . . . [Throws
clothes into her hands'} The poor Vershinins are so frightened.
. . . Their house was nearly burnt. They ought to come
here for the night. . . . They shouldn't be allowed to go
home. . . . Poor Fedotik is completely burnt out, there's
nothing left. . . .
ANFISA. Couldn't you call Ferapont, Olga dear. I can
hardly manage. . . .
OLGA. [Rings] They'll never answer. . . . [At the door]
Come here, whoever there is ! [Through the open door can be
174
ACT in T^HE THREE SISTERS 175
seen a window, red ivith flame : afire-engine is heard passing
the house] How awful this is. And how I'm sick of it !
[FERAPONT enters] Take these things down. . . . The
Kolotilin girls are down below . . . and let them have
them. This, too. . . .
FERAPONT. Yes'm. In the year twelve Moscow was
burning too. Oh, my God ! The Frenchmen were sur-
prised.
OLGA. Go on, go on. ...
FERAPONT. Yes'm. [Exit.
OLGA. Nurse, dear, let them have everything. We don't
want anything. Give it all to them, nurse. . . . I'm tired,
I can hardly keep on my legs. . . . The Vershinins mustn't
be allowed to go home. . . . The girls can sleep in the
drawing-room, and Alexander Ignateyevitch can go down-
stairs to the Baron's flat . . . Fedotik can go there, too, or
else into our dining-room. . . . The doctor is drunk, beastly
drunk, as if on purpose, so nobody can go to him. Ver-
shinin's wife, too, may go into the drawing-room.
ANFISA. [Tired] Olga, dear girl, don't dismiss me !
Don't dismiss me !
OLGA. You're talking nonsense, nurse. Nobody is
dismissing you.
ANFISA. [Pitts OLGA'S head against her bosom] My dear,
precious girl, I'm working, I'm toiling away . . . I'm
growing weak, and they'll all say go away ! And where
shall I go ? Where ? I'm eighty. Eighty-one years
old. . . .
OLGA. You sit down, nurse dear. . . . You're tired,
poor dear. . . . [Makes her sit down] Rest, dear. You're
so pale !
NATASHA comes in.
NATASHA. They are saying that a committee to assist the
176 THE THREE SISTERS ACT in
sufferers from the fire must be formed at once. What do
you think of that ? It's a beautiful idea. Of course" the .
poor ought to be helped, it's the duty of the rich. Bobby \
and little Sophy are sleeping, sleeping as if nothing at all was
the matter. There's such a lot of people here, the place is
full of them, wherever you go. There's influenza in the
town now. I'm afraid the children may catch it.
OLGA. [Not attending] In this room we can't see the fire,
it's quiet here. . . .
NATASHA. Yes ... I suppose I'm all untidy. [Before
the looking-glass] They say I'm growing stout ... it isn't
true ! Certainly it isn't ! Masha's asleep ; the poor thing
is tired out. . . . [Coldly, to ANFISA] Don't dare to be seated
in my presence ! Get up ! Out of this ! [Exit ANFISA ; a
pause] I don't understand what makes you keep on that
old woman !
OLGA. [Confusedly] Excuse me, I don't understand
either . . .
NATASHA. She's no good here. She comes from the
country, she ought to live there. . . . Spoiling her, I call
it ! I like order in the house ! We don't want any un-
necessary people here. [Strokes her cheek] You're tired, poor
thing ! Our head mistress is tired ! And when my little
Sophie grows up and goes to school I shall be so afraid of you.
OLGA. I shan't be head mistress.
NATASHA. They'll appoint you, Olga. It's settled.
OLGA. I'll refuse the post. I can't . . . I'm not
strong enough. . . . [Drinks water] You were so rude to
nurse just now . . . I'm sorry. I can't stand it ...
everything seems dark in front of me. . . .
NATASHA. [Excited] Forgive me, Olga, forgive me ... I
didn't want to annoy you.
MASHA gets up, takes a pillow and goes out angrily.
ACT in THE THREE SISTERS 177
OLGA. Remember, dear ... we have been brought up,
in an unusual way, perhaps, but I can't bear this. Such
behaviour has a bad effect on me, I get ill ... I simply lose
heart !
NATASHA. Forgive me, forgive me. . . . [Kisses her.
OLGA. Even the least bit of rudeness, the slightest im-
politeness, upsets me.
NATASHA. I often say too much, it's true, but you
must agree, dear, that she could just as well live in the
country.
OLGA. She has been with us for thirty years.
NATASHA. But she can't do any work now. Either I
don't understand, or you don't want to understand me.
She's no good for work, she can only sleep or sit about.
OLGA. And let her sit about.
NATASHA. [Surprised] What do you mean ? She's only
a servant. [Crying] I don't understand you, Olga. I've
got a nurse, a wet-nurse, we've a cook, a housemaid . . .
what do we want that old woman for as well ? What good
is she 'I [Fire-alarm behind the stage.
OLGA. I've grown ten years older to-night.
NATASHA. We must come to an agreement, Olga. Your
place is the school, mine the home. You devote yourself
to teaching, I, to the household. And if I talk about
servants, then I do know what I am talking about ; I do
know what I am talking about. . . . And to-morrow there's
to be no more of that old thief, that old hag . . . [Stamping]
that witch ! And don't you dare to annoy me ! Don't
you dare ! [Stopping short] Really, if you don't move
downstairs, we shall always be quarrelling. This is
awful.
Enter KULIGIN.
KULIGIN. Where's Masha ? It's time we went home.
H
178 THE THREE SISTERS ACTIII
The fire seems to be going down. [Stretches himself] Only
one block has burnt down, but there was such a wind that
it seemed at first the whole town was going to burn. [Sits]
I'm tired out. My dear Olga ... I often think that if it
hadn't been for Masha, I should have married you. You are
awfully nice. . . . I am absolutely tired out. [Listens.
OLGA. What is it ?
KULIGIN. The doctor, of course, has been drinking hard ;
^he's terribly drunk. He might have done it on purpose !
[Gets up] He seems to be coming here. . . . Do you hear
him ? Yes, here. . . . [Laughs] What a man . . . really
. . . I'll hide myself. [Goes to the cupboard and stands in the
corner] What a rogue.
OLGA. He hadn't touched a drop for two years, and now
he suddenly goes and get's drunk. . . .
[Retires with NATASHA to the back of the room.
CHEBUTIKIN enters ; apparently sober, he stops, looks
round, then goes to the wash-stand and begins to
wash his hands.
CHEBUTIKIN. [Angrily] Devil take them all ... take
them all. ... They think I'm a doctor and can cure every-
thing, and I know absolutely nothing, I've forgotten all
I ever knew, I remember nothing, absolutely nothing.
[OLGA and NATASHA go out, unnoticed by him] Devil take
it. Last Wednesday I attended a woman in Zasip and she
died, and, it's my fault that she died. Yes ... I used
to know a certain amount five-and-twenty years ago, but
I don't remember anything now. Nothing. Perhaps I'm
not really a man, and am only pretending that I've got arms
and legs and a head ; perhaps I don't exist at all, and only
imagine that I walk, and eat, and sleep. [Cries] Oh, if only
I didn't exist ! [Stops crying ; angrily} The devil only
knows. . . . Day before yesterday they were talking in the
ACT in THE THREE SISTERS 179
club ; they said, Shakespeare, Voltaire . . . I'd never read,
never read at all, and I put on an expression as if I had read.
And so did the others. Oh, how beastly ! How petty !
And then I remembered the woman I killed on Wednesday
. . . and I couldn't get her out of my mind, and everything
in my mind became crooked, nasty, wretched. ... Sol
went and drank. . . .
IRINA, VERSHININ and TUZENBACH enter ; TUZEN-
BACH is wearing new and fashionable civilian
clothes.
IRINA. Let's sit down here. Nobody will come in
here.
VERSHININ. The whole town would have been destroyed
if it hadn't been for the soldiers. Good men ! [Rubs his
hands appreciatively] Splendid people ! Oh, what a fine
lot!
KULIGIN. [Coming up to him] What's the time ?
TUZENBACH. It's past three now. It's dawning.
IRINA. They are all sitting in the dining-room, nobody
is going. And that Soleni of yours is sitting there. . .
[To CHEBUTIKIN] Hadn't you better be going to sleep,
doctor ?
CHEBUTIKIN. It's all right . . . thank you. . . .
[Combs his beard.
KULIGIN. [Laughs] Speaking's a bit difficult, eh, Ivan
Romanovitch ! [Pats him on the shoulder] Good man ! In
vino veritas, the ancients used to say.
TUZENBACH. They keep on asking me to get up a concert
in aid of the sufferers.
IRINA. As if one could do anything. . . .
TUZENBACH. It might be arranged, if necessary. In my
opinion Maria Sergeyevna is an excellent pianist.
KULIGIN. Yes, excellent !
180 THE THREE SISTERS ACTIII
IRINA. She's forgotten everything. She hasn't played
for three years ... or four.
TUZENBACH. In this town absolutely nobody understands
music, not a soul except myself, but I do understand it, and
assure you on my word of honour that Maria Sergeyevna
plays excellently, almost with genius.
KULIGIN. You are right, Baron, I'm awfully fond of
Masha. She's very fine.
TUZENBACH. To be able to play so admirably and to
realize at the same time that nobody, nobody can under-
stand you !
KULIGIN. [Sighs] Yes. . . . But will it be quite all right
for her to take part in a concert ? [Pause] You see, I don't
know anything about it. Perhaps it will even be all to the
good. Although I must admit that our Director is a good
man, a very good man even, a very clever man, still he has
such views. ... Of course it isn't his business but still, if
you wish it, perhaps I'd better talk to him.
CHEBUTIKIN takes a porcelain clock into his hands and
examines it.
VERSHININ. I got so dirty while the fire was on, I don't
look like anybody on earth. [Pause] Yesterday I happened
to hear, casually, that they want to transfer our brigade to
some distant place. Some said to Poland, others, to
Chita.
TUZENBACH. I heard so, too. Well, if it is so, the town
will be quite empty.
IRINA. And we'll go away, too !
CHEBUTIKIN. [Drops the clock which breaks to pieces] To
smithereens !
A pause ; everybody is pained and confused.
KULIGIN. [Gathering up the pieces] To smash such a
ACTIII THE THREE SISTERS 181
valuable object oh,IvanRomanovitch,Ivan Romanovitch !
A very bad mark for your misbehaviour !
IRINA. That clock used to belong to our mother.
CHEBUTIKIN. Perhaps. ... To your mother, your mother.
Perhaps I didn't break it; it only looks as if I broke
it. Perhaps we only think that we exist, when really
we don't. I don't know anything, nobody knows any-
thing. [At the door] What are you looking at ? Natasha
has a little romance with Protopopov, and you don't see
it. ... There you sit and see nothing, and Natasha has
a little romance with Protopovov. . . . [Sings] Won't you
please accept this date. . . . [Exit.
VERSHININ. Yes. [Laughs] How strange everything really
is ! [Pause] When the fire broke out, I hurried off home ;
when I get there I see the house is whole, uninjured, and in
no danger, but my two girls are standing by the door in just
their underclothes, their mother isn't there, the crowd is
excited, horses and dogs are running about, and the girls*
faces are so agitated, terrified, beseeching, and I don't know
what else. My heart was pained when I saw those faces.
My God, I thought, what these girls will have to put up
with if they live long ! I caught them up and ran, and still
kept on thinking the one thing : what they will have to live
through in this world ! [Fire-alarm ; a pause] I come here
and find their mother shouting and angry. [MASHA enters
with a pillow and sits on the sofa] And when my girls were
standing by the door in just their underclothes, and the
street was red from the fire, there was a dreadful noise, and
I thought that something of the sort used to happen many
years ago when an enemy made a sudden attack, and looted,
and burned. . . . And at the same time what a difference
there really is between the present and the past ! And when
182 THE THREE SISTERS ACTIII
a little more time has gone by, in two or three hundred
years perhaps, people will look at our present life with just
the^same fear, and the same contempt, and the whole past
will seem clumsy and dull, and very uncomfortable, and
strange. Oh, indeed, what a life there will be, what a life !
[Laughs] Forgive me, I've dropped into philosophy again.
Please let me continue. I do awfully want to philosophize,
it's^just how I feel at present. [Pause] As if they are all
asleep. As I was saying : what a life there will be ! Only
just imagine. . . . There are only three persons like your-
selves in the town just now, but in future generations there
will be more and more, and still more, and the time will come
when everything will change and become as you would have
it, people will live as you do, and then you too will go out
of date ; people will be born who are better than you. . . .
[Laughs] Yes, to-day I am quite exceptionally in the vein.
I am devilishly keen on living. . . . [Sings.
" The power of love all ages know,
From its assaults great good does grow."
[Laughs.
MASHA. Trum-tum-tum . . .
VERSHININ. Turn-turn . . .
MASHA. Tra-ra-ra ?
VERSHININ. Tra-ta-ta. [Laughs.
Enter FEDOTIK.
FEDOTIK. [Dancing] I'm burnt out, I'm burnt out !
Down to the ground ! [Laughter.
IRINA. I don't see anything funny about it. Is every-
thing burnt ?
FEDOTIK. [Laughs] Absolutely. Nothing left at all.
The guitar's burnt, and the photographs are burnt, and all
my correspondence. . . . And I was going to make you a
present of a note-book, and that's burnt too.
ACTIII THE THREE SISTERS 183
SOLENI cornea in.
IRINA. No, you can't come here, Vassili Vassilevitch.
Please go away.
SOLENI. Why can the Baron come here and I can't ?
VERSHININ. We really must go. How's the fire ?
SOLENI. They say it's going down. No, I absolutely
don't see why the Baron can, and I can't ?
[Scents his hands.
VERSHININ. Trum-tum-tum.
MASHA. Trum-tum.
VERSHININ. [Laughs to SOLENI] Let's go into the dining-
room.
SOLENI. Very well, we'll make a note of it. " If I should
try to make this clear, the geese would be annoyed, I fear."
[Looks at TUZENBACH] There, there, there. . . .
[Goes out with VERSHININ and FEDOTIK .
IRINA. How Soleni smelt of tobacco. . . . [In surprise]
The Baron's asleep ! Baron ! Baron !
TUZENBACH. [Waking] I am tired, I must say. . . . The
brickworks. . . . No, I'm not wandering, I mean it ; I'm
going to start work soon at the brickworks . . . I've already
talked it over. [Tenderly, to IRINA] You're so pale, and
beautiful, and charming. . . . Your paleness seems to shine
through the dark air as if it was a light. . . . You are sad,
displeased with life. . . . Oh, come with me, let's go and
work together !
MASHA. Nicolai Lvovitch, go away from here.
TUZENBACH. [Laughs] Are you here ? I didn't see you.
[Kisses IRINA'S hand] Sood-bye, I'll go ... I look at you
now and I remember, as if it was long ago, your name-day,
when you, cheerfully and merrily, were talking about the
joys of labour. . . . And how happy life seemed to me,
then ! What has happened to it now ? [Kisses her /wm/J
184 THE THREE SISTERS ACT in
\ There are tears in your eyes. Go to bed now ; it is already
I day . . . the morning begins. ... If only I was allowed
' to give my life for you !
MASHA. Nicolai Lvovitch, go away ! What business . . .
TUZENBACH. I'm off. [Exit.
MASHA. [Lies down] Are you asleep, Feodor ?
KULIGIN. Eh ?
MASHA. Shouldn't you go home.
KULIGIN. My dear Masha, my darling Masha. . . .
IRINA. She's tired out. You might let her rest, Fedia.
KULIGIN. I'll go at once. My wife's a good, splendid . . .
I love you, my only one. . . .
MASHA. [Angrily] Amo, amas, amat, amamus, amatis,
amant.
KULIGIN. [Laughs] No, she really is wonderful. I've
been your husband seven years, and it seems as if I was
only married yesterday. On my word. No, you really are
a wonderful woman. ^I!m_ satisfied, I'm satisfied, %m
satisfied !
MASHA. I'm bored, I'm bored, I'm bored. . . . [Sits up]
But I can't get it out of my head. . . . It's simply dis-
graceful. It has been gnawing away at me ... I can't
keep silent. I mean about Andrey. . . . He has mortgaged
this house with the bank, and his wife has got all the money ;
but the house doesn't belong to him alone, but to the four
of us ! He ought to know that, if he's an honourable
man.
KULIGIN. What's the use, Masha ? Andrey is in debt all
round ; well, let him do as he pleases.
MASHA. It's disgraceful, anyway. [Lies down
KULIGIN. You and I are not poor. I work, take my
classes, give private lessons ... I am a plain, honest man
. . . Omnia mea mecum porto, as they say.
ACT in THE THREE SISTERS 185
MASHA. I don't want anything, but the unfairness of it
disgusts me. [Pause] You go, Feodor.
KULIGIN. [Kisses her] You're tired, just rest for half an
hour, and I'll sit and wait for you. Sleep. . . . [Going]
I'm satisfied, I'm satisfied, I'm satisfied. [Exit. {
IRINA. Yes, really, our Andrey has grown smaller ; how
he's snuffed out and aged with that woman ! He used to v
want to be a professor, and yesterday he was boasting that
at last he had been made a member of the district council.
He is a member, and Protopopov is chairman. . . . The
whole town talks and laughs about it, and he alone knows
and sees nothing. . . . And now everybody's gone to look
at the fire, but he sits alone in his room and pays no atten-
tion, only just plays on his fiddle. [Nervily] Oh, it's awful,
awful, awful. [Weeps] I can't, I can't bear it any longer !
... I can't, I can't ! . . . [OLGA comes in and clears up
at her little table. IRINA is sobbing loudly] Throw me out,
throw me out, I can't bear any more !
OLGA. [Alarmed] What is it, what is it ? Dear !
IRINA ! [Sobbing] Where ? Where has everything gone ?
Where is it all ? Oh my God, my God ! I've forgotten .
everything, everything ... I don't remember what is the
Italian for window or, well, for ceiling ... I forget every-
thing, every day I forget it, and life passes and will never
return, and we'll never go away to Moscow ... I see that
we'll never go. ...
OLGA. Dear, dear. . . .
IKIXA. [Controlling herself] Oh, I am unhappy ... I
can't work, I shan't work. Enough, enough ! I used to
be a telegraphist, now I work at the town council offices,
and I have nothing but hate and contempt for all they give
me to do ... I am already twenty-three, I have already
been at work for a long while, and my brain has dried up,
186 THE THREE SISTERS ACTIII
and I've grown thinner, plainer, older, and there is no relief
of any sort, and time goes and it seems all the while as if I
am going away from the real, the beautifuTTSe, farther and
farther away, down some precipice. I'm in despair and I
can't understand how it is that I am still alive, that I
haven't killed myself.
OLGA. Don't cry, dear girl, don't cry ... I suffer, too.
IRINA. I'm not crying, not crying. . . . Enough. . . .
Look, I'm not crying any more. Enough . . . enough !
OLGA. Dear, I tell you as a sister and a friend, if you want
my advice, marry the Baron. [!RINA cries softly] You
respect him, you think highly of him. ... It is true that
lie is not handsome, but he is so honourable and clean
. . . people don't marry from love, but in order to do one's
duty. I think so, at any rate, and I'd marry without being
in love. Whoever he was, I should marry him, so long as
he was a decent man. Even if he was old. . . .
IRINA. I was always waiting until we should be settled
in Moscow, there I should meet my true love ; I used to
think about him, and love him. . . . But it's all turned
out to be nonsense, all nonsense. . . .
OLGA. [Embraces her sister] My dear, beautiful sister, I
understand everything ; when Baron Nicolai Lvovitch left
the army and came to us in evening dress,* he seemed so
bad-looking to me that I even started crying. ... He
asked, " What are you crying for ? " How could I tell him !
But if God brought him to marry you, I should be happy.
That would be different, quite different.
NATASHA with a candle walks- across the stage from
right to left without saying anything.
MASHA. [Sitting up] She walks as if she's set something
on fire.
* I.e. in the correct dress for making a proposal of marriage.
ACT in THE THREE SISTERS 187
OLGA. Masha, you're silly, you're the silliest of the
family. Please forgive me for saying so. [Pause.
MASHA. I want to make a confession, dear sisters. My
soul is in pain. I will confess to you, and never again to
anybody ... I'll tell you this minute. [Softly] It's my
secret but you must know everything ... I can't be
silent. . . . [Pause] I love, I love ... I love that man.
. . . You saw him only just now. . . . Why don't I say
it ... in one word. I loveVershmin.
OLGA. [Goes behind her screen] Stop that, I don't hear
you in any case.
MASHA. What am I to do ? [Takes her head in her hands]
First he seemed queer to me, then I was sorry for him . . .
then I fell in love with him . . . fell in love with his voice,
his words, his misfortunes, his two daughters.
OLGA. [Behind the screen] I'm not listening. You may
talk any nonsense you like, it will be all the same, I shan't
hear.
MASHA. Oh, Olga, you are foolish. I am in love that
means that is to be my fate. It means that is to be my
lot. . . . And he loves me. ... It is all awful. Yes ; it
isn't good, is it ? [Takes IRINA'S hand and draws her to her]
Oh, my dear. . . . How are we going to live through our
lives, what is to become of us. ... When you read a novel
it.all seems so old and easy, but when you, fall in love your-
self, then you learn that nobody knows anything, and each
must decide for himself. . . . My dear ones, my sisters . . .
I've confessed, now I shall keep silence. . . . Like the
lunatics in Gogol's story, I'm going to be silent . . .
silent . . .
ANDREY enters, followed by FERAPONT.
ANDRE Y. [Angrily] What do you want ? I don't under-
stand.
188 THE THREE SISTERS ACTIII
FERAPONT. [At the door, impatiently] I've already told
you ten times, Andrey Sergey evitch.
ANDREY. In the first place I'm not Andrey Sergeyevitch,
but sir.*
FERAPONT. The firemen, sir, ask if they can go across your
garden to the river. Else they go right round, right round ;
it's a nuisance.
ANDREY. All right. Tell them it's all right. [Exit FERA-
PONT] I'm tired of them. Where is Olga ? [OLGA comes
out from behind the screen] I came to you for the key of the
cupboard. I lost my own. You've got a little key.
[OLGA gives him the key ; IRINA goes behind her screen ; pause}
What a huge fire ! It's going down now. Hang it all, that
Ferapont made me so angry that I talked nonsense to him.
. . . Sir, indeed. . . . [A pause] Why are you so silent,
Olga ? [Pause] It's time you stopped all that nonsense and
behaved as if you were properly alive. . . . You are here,
Masha. Irina is here, well, since we're all here, let's come to
a complete understanding, once and for all. What have
you against me ? What is it ?
OLGA. Please don't, Andrey dear. We'll talk to-morrow.
[Excited] What an awful night !
ANDREY. [Much confused] Don't excite yourself. I ask
you in perfect calmness ; what have you against me ? Tell
me straight.
VERSHININ'S VOICE. Trum- turn- turn !
MASHA. [Stands ; loudly} Tra-ta-ta ! [To OLGA] Good-
bye, Olga, God bless you. [Goes behind screen and Jcisses
IRINA] Sleep well. . . . Good-bye, Andrey. Go away now,
they're tired . . . you can explain to-morrow. . . .
[Exit.
* Quite literally, "your high honour," to correspond to Andrey 's
rank as a civil servant.
ACT in THE THREE SISTERS 189
ANDRE Y. I'll only say this and go. Just now. ... In
the first place, you've got something against Natasha, my
wife; I've noticed it since the very day of my marriage.
/Natasha is a beautiful and honest creature, straight and
\honourable that's my opinion. I love and respect my
wife ; understand it, I respect her, and I insist that others
should respect her too. I repeat, she's an honest and
honourable person, and all your disapproval is simply silly
. . . [Pause} In the second place, you seem to be annoyed
because I am not a professor, and am not engaged in study.
But I work for the zemstvo, I am a member of the district
council, and I consider my service as worthy and as high
as the service of science. I am a member of the district
council, and I am proud of it, if you want to know. . . .
[Pause] In the third place, I have still this to say . . . that
I have mortgaged the house without obtaining your per-
mission. . . . For that I am to blame, and ask to be for-
given. My debts led me into doing it ... thirty-five
thousand ... I do not play at cards any more, I stopped
long ago, but the chief thing I have to say in my defence
is that you girls receive a pension, and I don't . . . my
wages, so to speak. . . . [Pause.
KULIGIN. [At the door] Is Masha there ? [Excitedly]
Where is she ? It's queer. . . . [Exit.
ANDREY. They don't hear. Natasha is a splendid, honest
person. [Walks about in silence, then stops] When I married
I thought we should be happy ... all of us. ... But, my
God. . . . [Weeps] My dear, dear sisters, don't believe me,
don't believe me. . . . [Exit.
Fire-alarm. The stage is clear.
IRINA. [behind her screen] Olga, who's knocking on the
floor?
OLGA. It's doctor Ivan Romanovitch. He's dru *- k .
190 THE THREE SISTERS ACTIII
IRINA. What a restless night ! [Pause] Olga ! [Looks
out] Did you hear ? They are taking the brigade away
from us ; it's going to be transferred to some place far away.
OLGA. It's only a rumour.
IRINA. Then we shall be left alone. . . . Olga !
OLGA. Well?
IRINA. My dear, darling sister, I esteem, I highly value
I the Baron, he's a splendid man ; I'll marry him, I'll consent,
j only let's go to Moscow ! I implore you, let's go ! There's
i \nothing better than Moscow on earth ! Let's go, Olga, let's
Curtain
ACT IV
The old garden at the house of the PROSOROVS. There is a
long avenue of firs, at the end of which the river can be
seen. There is a forest on the far side of the river. On
the right is the terrace of the house : bottles and tumblers
are on a table here ; it is evident that champagne has just
been drunk. It is midday. Every now and again
passers-by walk across the garden, from the road to the
river-; five soldiers go past rapidly. CHEBUTIKIN, in a
eomfortable frame of mind which does not desert him
throughout the act, sits in an armchair in the garden,
wailing to be called. He wears a peaked cap and has
a stick. IRINA, KULTGIN with a cross hanging from his
neck and without his moustaches, and TUZENBACH are
standing on the terrace seeing off FEDOTIK and RODE,
who are coming down into the garden ; both officers are
in service uniform.
TUZENBACH. [Exchanges kisses with FEDOTIK] You're a
good sort, we got on so well together. [Exchanges kisses
with RODE] Once again. . . . Good-bye, old man !
IRINA. Au revoir !
FEDOTIK. It isn't au revoir, it's good-bye ; we'll never
meet again !
KULIGIN. Who knows ! [Wipes his eyes ; smiles'} Here
I've started crying !
IRINA. We'll meet again sometime.
FEDOTIK. After ten years or fifteen ? We'll hardly
191
192 THE THREE SISTERS ACTIV
know one another then ; we'll say, " How do you do ? "
coldly. . . . [Takes a snapshot] Keep still. . . . Once more,
for the last time.
KOBE. [Embracing TUZENBACH] We shan't meet again.
. . . [Kisses IRINA'S hand] Thank you for everything, for
everything !
FEDOTIK. [Grieved] Don't be in such a hurry !
TUZENBACH. We shall meet again, if God wills it. Write
to us. Be sure to write.
RODE. [Looking round the garden] Good-bye, trees !
[Shouts] Yo-ho ! [Pause] Good-bye, echo !
KULIGIN. Best wishes. Go and get yourselves wives
there in Poland. . . . Your Polish wife will clasp you and
call you " kochanku ! " * [Laughs.
FEDOTIK. [Looking at the time] There's less than an hour
left. Soleni is the only one .of our battery who is going on
the barge ; the rest of us are going with the main body.
Three batteries are leaving to-day, another three to-morrow
and then the town will be quiet and peaceful.
TUZENBACH. And terribly dull.
EODE. And where is Maria Sergey evna ?
KULIGIN. Masha is in the garden.
FEDOTIK. We'd like to say good-bye to her.
RODE. Good-bye, I must go, or else I'll start weeping.
. . . [Quickly embraces KULIGIN and TUZENBACH, and kisses
IRINA'S hand] We've been so happy here. . . .
FEDOTIK. [To KULIGIN] Here's a keepsake for you . . .
a note-book with a pencil. . . . We'll go to the river from
here. . . . [They go aside and both look round.
RODE. [Shouts] Yo-ho !
KULIGIN. [Shouts] Good-bye !
\ Darling.
ACT iv THE THREE SISTERS 193
At the back of the stage FEDOTIK and RODE meet
MASHA ; they say good-bye and go out with her.
IRINA. They've gone. . . .
[Sits on the bottom step of the terrace.
CHEBUTIKIN. And they forgot to say good-bye to
me.
IRINA. But why is that ?
CHEBUTIKIN. I just forgot, somehow. Though I'll soon
see them again, I'm going to-morrow. Yes ... just one
day left. I shall be retired in a year, then I'll come here
again and finish my life near you. I've only one year before
I get my pension. . . . [Puts one newspaper into his pocket
and takes another out] I'll come here to you and change my
life radically . . . I'll be so quiet . . . so agree . . . agree-
able, respectable. . . .
IRINA. Yes, you ought to change your life, dear man,
somehow or other.
CHEBUTIKIN. Yes, I feel it. [Sings softly.
" Tarara-boom-deay. . . ."
KULIGIN. We won't reform Ivan Romanovitch ! We
won't reform him !
CHEBUTIKIN. If only I was apprenticed to you ! Then I'd
reform.
IRINA. Feodor has shaved his moustache ! I can't bear
to look at him.
KULIGIN. Well, what about it ?
CHEBUTIKIN. I could tell you what your face looks like
now, but it wouldn't be polite.
KULIGIN. Well ! It's the custom, it's modus vivendi.
Our Director is clean-shaven, and so I too, when I received
my inspectorship, had my moustaches removed. Nobody
likes it, but it's all one to me. I'm satisfied. Whether I've
got moustaches or not, I'm satisfied. . . . [Sits.
N
194 THE THREE SISTERS ACTIV
At the back of the stage ANDREY is wheeling a perambu-
lator containing a sleeping infant.
IRINA. Ivan Romanovitch, be a darling. I'm awfully
worried. You were out on the boulevard last night ; tell
me, what happened ?
CHEBUTIKIN. What happened ? Nothing. Quite a tri-
fling matter. [Reads paper] Of no importance !
KULIGIN. They say that Soleni and the Baron met yester-
day on the boulevard near the theatre. . . .
TUZENBACH. Stop ! What right . . .
[Waves his hand and goes into the house.
KULIGIN. Near the theatre . . . Soleni started behaving
offensively to the Baron, who lost his temper and said some-
thing nasty. , . .
CHEBUTIKIN. I don't know. It's all bunkum.
KULIGIN. At some seminary or other a master wrote
" bunkum " on an essay, and the student couldn't make the
letters out thought it was a Latin word " luckum."
[Laughs] Awfully funny, that. They say that Soleni is in
love with Irina and hates the Baron. . . . That's quite
natural. Irina is a very nice girl. She's even like Masha,
she's so thoughtful. . . . Only, Irina, your character is
gentler. Though Masha's character, too, is a very good
one. I'm very fond of Masha.
[Shouts of " Yo-ho I " are heard behind the stage.
IRINA. [Shudders] Everything seems to frighten me to-
day. [Pause] I've got everything ready, and I send my
things off after dinner. The Baron and I will be married
to-morrow, and to-morrow we go away to the brickworks,
and the next day I go to the school, and the new life begins.
God will help me ! When I took my examination for the
Poacher's post, I actually wept for joy and gratitude." . . .
[Pause] The cart will be here in a minute for my things. . . .
ACT iv THE THREE SISTERS 195
KULIGIN. Somehow or other, all this doesn't seem at all
serious. As if it was all ideas, and nothing really serious.
Still, with all my soul I wish you happiness.
CHEBUTIKIN. [With deep feeling] My splendid . . . my
dear, precious girl. . . . You've gone on far ahead, I won't
catch up with you. I'm left behind like a migrant bird
grown old, and unable to fly. Fly, my dear, fly, and God be
with you ! [Pause] It's a pity you shaved your moustaches,
Feodor Hitch.
KULIGIN. Oh, drop it ! [Sighs] To-day the soldiers will
be gone, and everything will go on as in the old days. Say
what you will, Masha is a good, honest woman. I love her
very much, and thank my fate for her. People have such
different fates. There's a Kosirev who works in the excise
department here. He was at school with me ; he was
expelled from the fifth class of the High School for being
entirely unable to understand ut consecutivum. He's aw-
fully hard up now and in very poor health, and when I meet
him I say to him, " How do you do, ut consecutivum.''
" Yes," he says," precisely consecutivum . . ." and coughs.
\ But I've been successful all my life, I'm happy, and I even
have a Stanislaus Cross, of the second class, and now I
myself teach others that ut consecutivum. Of course, I'm a
clever man, much cleverer than many, but happiness doesn't
only lie in that. . . .
" The Maiden's Prayer " is being played on the piano
in the house.
IRINA. To-morrow night I shan't hear that " Maiden's
Prayer " any more, and I shan't be meeting Protopopov.
. . . [Pause] Protopopov is sitting there in the drawing-
room ; and he came to-day. . .
KULIGIN. Hasn't the head-mistress come yet ?
IEINA. No. She has been sent for. If you only knew
196 THE THREE SISTERS ACT iv
how difficult it is for me to live alone, r without Olga. . . .
She lives at the High School ;] she, a head-mistress, busy all
day with her affairs and I'm alone, bored, with nothing to
do, and hate the room I live in. . . . I've made up my
mind : if I can't live in Moscow, then it must come to this.
It's fate. It can't be helped. It's all the will of God, that's
the truth. Nicolai Lvovitch made me a proposal. . . .
Well ? I thought it over and made 'up my mind. He's a
good man . . . it's quite remarkable Jiow good he is. ...
And suddenly my soul put out wings, I became happy, and
light-hearted, and once again the desire for work, work,
came over me. . . . Only something happened yesterday,
some secret dread has been hanging over me. . . .
CHEBUTIKIN. Luckum. Eubbish.
NATASHA. [At the window} The head-mistress.
KULIGIN. The head-mistress has come. Let's go.
[Exit with IRINA into the house.
CHEBUTIKIN. " It is my washing day. . . . Tara-ra . . .
boom-deay."
MASHA approaches, ANDREY is wheeling a perambu-
lator at the back.
MASHA. Here you are, sitting here, doing nothing.
CHEBUTIKIN. What then ?
MASHA. [Sits] Nothing. . . . [Pause] Did you love my
mother ?
CHEBUTIKIN. Very much.
MASHA. And did she love you ?
CHEBUTIKIN. [After a pause] I don't remember that.
MASHA. Is my man here ? When our cook Martha used
to ask about her gendarme, she used to say my man. Is
he here ?
CHEBUTIKIN. Not yet.
MASHA. When you take your happiness in little bits, in
ACT iv THE THREE SISTERS 197
snatches, and then lose it, as I have done, you gradually get
coarser, more bitter. [Points to her bosom] I'm boiling in
here. . . . [Looks at ANDRE Y with the perambulator] There's
our brother Andrey. ... All pur Jiopes_in him_have^gone.
There was once a great bell, a thousand persons were hoisting
it, much money and labour had been spent on it, when it
suddenly fell and was broken. Suddenly, for no particular
reason. . . . Andrey is like that. . . .
ANDREY. When are they going to stop making such a
noise in the house ? It's awful.
CHEBUTIKIN. They won't be much longer. [Looks at his
watch] My watch is very old-fashioned, it strikes the hours.
. . . [Winds the watch and makes it strike] The first, second,
and fifth batteries are to leave at one o'clock precisely.
[Pause] And I go to-morrow.
ANDREY. For good ?
CHEBUTIKIN. I don't know. Perhaps I'll return in a year.
The devil only knows . . . it's all one. . . .
[Somewhere a harp and violin are being played.
ANDREY. The town will grow empty. It will be as if
they put a cover over it. [Pause] Something happened
yesterday by the theatre. The whole town knows of it, but
I don't.
CHEBUTIKIN. Nothing. A silly little affair. Soleni
started irritating the Baron, who lost his temper and insulted
him, and so at last Soleni had to challenge him. [Looks at
his watch] It's about time, I think. ... At half-past
twelve, in the public wood, that one you can see from here
across the river. . . . Piff-paff. [Laughs] Soleni thinks
he's Lermontov, and even writes verses. That's all very
well, but this is his third duel.
MASHA. Whose ?
CHEBUTIKIN. Soleni's
198 THE THREE SISTERS ACTIV
MASHA. And the Baron ?
CHEBUTIKIN. What about the Baron ? [Pause.
MASHA. Everything's all muddled up in my head. . . .
But I say it ought not to be allowed. He might wound the
Baron or even kill him.
CHEBUTIKIN. The Baron is a good man, but one Baron
more or less what difference does it make ? It's all the
same ! [Beyond the garden somebody shouts " Co-ee ! Hallo! "]
You wait. That's Skvortsov shouting ; one of the seconds.
He's in a boat. [Pause.
ANDRE Y. In my opinion it's simply immoral to fight in a
duel, or to be present, even in the quality of a doctor.
CHEBUTIKIN. It only seems so. ... We don't exist,
there's nothing on earth, we don't really live, it only seems
that we live. Does it matter, anyway !
MASHA. You talk and talk the whole day long. . . .
[Going] You live in a climate like this, where it might snow
any moment, and there you talk. . . . [Stops] I won't go
into the house, I can't go there. . . . Tell me when Ver-
shinin comes. . . . [Goes along the avenue] The migrant
birds are already on the wing. . . . [Looks up] Swans or
geese. . . . My dear, happy things. . . . [Exit.
ANDREY. Our house will be empty. The officers will go
away, you are going, my sister is getting married, and I alone
will remain in the house.
CHEBUTIKIN. And your wife ?
FERAPONT enters with some documents.
ANDREY. A wife's a wife. She's honest, well-bred, yes,
and kind, but with all that there is still something about
her that degenerates her into a petty, blind, even in some
respects misshapen animal. In any case, she isn't a man.
I tell you as a friend, as the only man to whom I can lay
bare my soul. I love Natasha, it's true, but sometimes she
ACT iv THE THREE SISTERS
seems extraordinarily vulgar, and then I lose myself
and can't understand why I love her so much, or, at any
rate, used to love her. . . .
CHEBUTIKIN. [Rises] I'm going away to-morrow, old
chap, and perhaps we'll never meet again, so here's my
advice. Put on your cap, take a stick in your hand, go . . .
go on and on, without looking round. And the farther
you go, the better.
SOLENI goes across the back of the stage with two
officers ; he catches sight of CHEBUTIKIN, and turns
to him, the officers go on.
SOLENI. Doctor, it's time. It's half-past twelve already.
[Shakes hands icith ANDRE Y.
CHEBUTIKIN. Half a minute. I'm tired of the lot of you.
[To ANDREY] If anybody asks for me, say I'll be back soon.
. . . [Sighs] Oh, oh, oh !
SOLENI. " He didn't have the time to sigh. The bear sat
on him heavily." [Goes up to him] What are you groaning
about, old man ?
CHEBUTIKIN. Stop it !
SOLENI. How's your health ?
CHEBUTIKIN. [Angry] Mind your own business.
SOLENI. The old man is unnecessarily excited. I won't
go far, I'll only just bring him down like a snipe. [Takes
\ out his scent-bottle and scents his hands] I've poured out a
whole bottle of scent to-day and they still smell ... of a
dead body. [Pause] Yes. . . . You remember the poem
" But he, the rebel seeks the storm,
As if the storm will bring him rest . . ." ?
CHEBUTIKIN. Yes.
" He didn't have the time to sigh,
The bear sat on him heavily/'
JM with SOLENI.
200 THE THREE SISTERS ACTIV
Shouts are heard. ANDREY and FERAPONT come in.
FERAPONT. Documents to sign. . . .
ANDREY. [Irritated] Go away ! Leave me ! Please !
[Goes away with the perambulator.
FERAPONT. That's what documents are for, to be signed.
[Retires to back of stage.
Enter IRINA, with TUZENBACH in a straw hat ; KULI-
GIN walks across the stage, shouting " Co-ee, Masha,
co-ee!"
TUZENBACH. He seems to be the only man in the town
who is glad that the soldiers are going.
IRINA. One can understand that. [Pause] The town will
be empty.
TUZENBACH. My dear, I shall return soon.
IRINA. Where are you going ?
TUZENBACH. I must go into the town and then ... see
the others off.
IRINA. It's not true . . . Nicolai, why are you so absent-
minded to-day ? [Pause] What took place by the theatre
yesterday ?
TUZENBACH. [Making a movement of impatience] In an
hour's time I shall return and be with you again. [Kisses
her hands] My darling . . . [Looking her closely in the face]
it's five years now since I fell in love with you, and still I
can't get used to it, and you seem to me to grow more and
more beautiful. What lovely, wonderful hair ! What eyes !
I'm going to take you away to-morrow. We shall work,
we shall be rich, my dreams will come true. You will be
happy. There's only one thing, one thing only : you don't
love me !
IRINA. It isn't in my power ! I shall be your wife, I shall
be true to you, and obedient to you, but I can't love you.^
What can I do ! [Cries] I have never been in love in my
ACT iv THE THREE SISTERS 201
life. Oh, I used to think so much of love, I have been
thinking about it for so long by day and by night, but my
soul is like an expensive piano which is locked and the key
lost. [Pause] You seem so unhappy.
TOZENBACH. I didn't sleep all night. There is nothing
in my life so awful as to be able to frighten me, only that lost
key torments my soul and does not let me sleep. Say
something to me [Pause] say something to me. . . .
IRINA. What can I say, what ?
TUZENBACH. Anything.
IRINA. Don't ! don't ! [Pause.
TUZENBACH. It is curious how silly trivial little things,
sometimes for no apparent reason, become significant. At
first you laugh at these things, you think they are of no
importance, you go on and you feel that you haven't got
the strength to stop yourself. Oh don't let's talk about it !
I am happy. It is as if for the first time in my life I see
these firs, maples, beeches, and they all look at me in-
quisitively and wait. What beautiful trees and how beauti-
ful, when one comes to think of it, life must be near them !
[A shout of Co-ee I in the distance] It's time I went
There's a tree which has dried up but it still sways in the
breeze with the others. And so it seems to me that if I die, I
shall still take part in life in one way or another. Good-bye,
dear. . . . [Kisses her hands] The papers which you gave
me are on my table under the calendar.
IRINA. I am coming with you.
TUZENBACH. [Nervously] No, no ! [He goes quickly and
slops in the avenue] Irina !
IRINA. What is it ?
TUZENBACH. [Not knowing what to say] I haven't had any
coffee to-day. Tell them to make me some. . . .
[He goes out quickly
202 THE THREE SISTERS ACTIV
IRINA stands deep in thought. Then she goes to
the back of the stage and sits on a swing. ANDREY
comes in with the perambulator and FERAPONT also
appears.
FERAPONT. Andrey Sergeyevitch, it isn't as if the docu-
ments were mine, they are the government's. I didn't
make them.
ANDREY. Oh, what has become of my past and where is it?
I used to be young, happy, clever, I used to be able to think
and frame clever ideas, the present and the future seemed to
me full of hope. Why do we, almost before we have begun
to live, become dull, grey, uninteresting, lazy, apathetic,
useless, unhappy. . . . This town has already been in
existence for two hundred years and it has a hundred
thousand inhabitants, not one of whom is in any way differ-
ent from the others. There has never been, now or at any
other time, a single leader of men, a single scholar, an artist,
a man of even the slightest eminence who might arouse envy
or a passionate desire to be imitated. They only eat, drink,
sleep, and then they die ... more people are born and also
eat, drink, sleep, and so as not to go silly from boredom
they try to make life many-sided with their beastly back
biting, vodka, cards, and litigation. The wives deceive
their husbands, and the husbands lie, and pretend they see
nothing and hear nothing, and the evil influence irresistibly
oppresses the children and the divine spark in them is ex-
tinguished, and they become just as pitiful corpses and just
as much like one another as their fathers and mothers. . . .
[Angrily to FERAPONT] What do you want ?
FERAPONT. What ? Documents want signing.
ANDREY. I'm tired of you.
FERAPONT. [Handing him papers] The hall-porter from
the law courts was saying just now that in the winter
:l
ACT iv THE THREE SISTERS 203
there were two hundred degrees of frost in Peters-
burg.
ANDREY. The present is beastly, but when I think of the
future, how good it is ! I feel so light, so free ; there is a
light in the distance, I see freedom. I see myself and my
children freeing ourselves from vanities, from kvass, from
goose baked with cabbage, from after-dinner naps, from
base idleness. . . .
FERAPONT. He was saying that two thousand people were
frozen to death. The people were frightened, he said. In
Petersburg or Moscow, I don't remember which.
ANDREY. [Overcome by a tender emotion] My dear sisters,
my beautiful sisters ! [Crying] Masha, my sister. . . .
NATASHA. [At the window] Who's talking so loudly out
here ? Is that you, Andrey ? You'll wake little Sophie.
11 nefaut pasfaire du bruit, la Sophie est dormie deja. Vous
&es un ours. [Angrily] If you want to talk, then give the
perambulator and the baby to somebody else. Ferapont,
take the perambulator !
FERAPONT. Yes'm. [Takes the perambulator.
ANDREY. [Confused] I'm speaking quietly.
NATASHA. [At the window, nursing her boy] Bobby !
Naughty Bobby ! Bad little Bobby !
ANDREY. [Looking through the papers] All right, I'll look
them over and sign if necessary, and you can take them
back to the offices. . . .
Goes into house reading papers ; FERAPONT takes the
perambulator to the back of the garden.
NATASHA. [At the window] Bobby, what's your mother's
name? Dear, dear! And who's this? That's Aunt
Olga. Say to your aunt, " How do you do, Olga ! "
Two wandering musicians, a man and a girl, are play-
ing on a violin and a harp. VERSHININ, OLGA, and
204 THE THREE SISTERS ACTIV
ANFISA come out of the house and listen for a minute
in silence ; IRINA comes up to them.
OLGA. Our garden might be a public thoroughfare, from
the way people walk and ride across it. Nurse, give those
musicians something !
ANFISA. [Gives money to the musicians'] Go away with
God's blessing on you. [The musicians bow and go away] A
bitter sort of people. You don't play on a full stomach.
[To IRINA] How do you do, Arisha ! [Kisses her] Well, little
girl, here I am, still alive ! Still alive ! In the High School,
together with little Olga, in her official apartments ... so
the Lord has appointed for my old age. Sinful woman that
I am, I've never lived like that in my life before. ... A
large flat, government property, and I've a whole room
and bed to myself. All government property. I wake up
at nights and, oh God, and Holy Mother, there isn't a happier
person than I !
VERSHININ. [Looks at his watch] We are going soon, Olga
Sergey evna. It's time for me to go. [Pause] I wish you
every. . . every. . . . Where's Maria Sergeyevna ?
IRINA. She's somewhere in the garden. I'll go and look
for her.
VERSHININ. If you'll be so kind. I haven't time.
ANFISA. I'll go and look, too. [Shouts] Little Masha, co-ee !
[Goes out with IRINA down into the garden] Co-ee, co-ee !
VERSHININ. Everything comes to an end. And so we,
too, must part. [Looks at his watch] The town gave us a sort
of farewell breakfast, we had champagne to drink and the
mayor made a speech, and I ate and listened, but my soul
was here all the time. . . . [Looks round the garden] I'm
so used to you now.
OLGA. Shall we ever meet again ?
VERSHININ. Probably not. [Pause] My wife and both my
ACT iv THE THREE SISTERS 205
daughters will stay here another two months. If anything
happens, or if anything has to be done . . .
OLGA. Yes, yes, of course. You need not worry. [Pause]
To-morrow there won't be a single soldier left in the town,
it will all be a memory, and, of course, for us a new life will
begin. . . . [Pause] None of our plans are coming right.
I didn't want to be a head-mistress, but they made me one,
all the same. It means there's no chance of Moscow. . . .
VERSHININ. Well . . . thank you for everything. For-
give me if I've . . . I've said such an awful lot forgive me
for that too, don't think badly of me.
OLGA. [Wipes her eyes] Why isn't Masha coming . . .
VERSHININ. What else can I say in parting ? Can I
philosophize about anything ? [Laughs] Life is heavy. To
many of us it seems dull and hopeless, but still, it must be
acknowledged that it is getting lighter and clearer, and it
seems that the time is not far off when it will be quite
clear. [Looks at his watch] It's time I went ! Mankind used
to be absorbed in wars,, and all its existence was filled with
campaigns, attacks, defeats, now we've outlived all that,
leaving after us a great waste place, which there is nothing
to fill with at present ; but mankind is looking for some-
thing, and will certainly find it. Oh, if it only happened
more quickly. [Pause} If only education could be added
to industry, and industry to education. [Looks at his watch]
It's time I went. . . .
OLGA. Here she comes.
Enter MASHA.
VERSHININ. I came to say good-bye
OLGA steps aside a little, so as not to be in their way.
MASHA. [Looking him in the face] Good-bye. . .
[Prolonged kiss.
OLGA. Don't, don't. [MASHA is crying bitterly
206 THE THREE SISTERS ACTIV
VERSHININ. Write to me. . . . Don't forget ! Let me
go. ... It's time. Take her, Olga Sergeyevna . . . it's
time . . . I'm late . . .
He kisses OLGA'S hand in evident emotion, then em-
braces MASHA once more and goes out quickly.
OLGA. Don't, Masha ! Stop, dear. . . . [KULIGIN enters.
KULIGIN. [Confused] Never mind, let her cry, let her. . . .
My dear Masha, my good Masha. . . . You're my wife, and
I'm happy, whatever happens . . . I'm not complaining,
T don't reproach you at all. . . . Olga is a witness to it. ...
Let's begin to live again as we used to, and not by a single
word, or hint . . .
MASHA. [Restraining her sobs]
" There stands a green oak by the sea,
And a chain of bright gold is around it. ...
And a chain of bright gold is around it. . . ."
I'm going off my head. . . " There stands ... a green
oak ... by the sea." , . .
OLGA. Don't, Masha, don't . . . give her some water. . . .
MASHA. I'm not crying any more. . . .
KULIGIN. She's not crying any more . . . she's a
good . . .
[A shot is heard from a distance.
MASHA. " There stands a green oak by the sea,
And a chain of bright gold is around it ...
An oak of green gold. . . ."
I'm mixing it up. . . . [Drinks some water] Life is dull . . .
I don't want anything more now . . . I'll be all right in a
moment. . . . It doesn't matter. . . . What do those lines
mean ? Why do they run in my head ; ? My thoughts are
all tangled.
ACT iv THE THREE SISTERS 207
IRINA enters.
OLGA. Be quiet, Masha. There's a good girl. . . . Let's
go in.
MASHA. [Angrily] I shan't go in there. [Sobs, but controls
herself at once] I'm not going to go into the house, I won't
go. ...
IRINA. Let's sit here together and say nothing. I'm going
away to-morrow. . . . [Pause.
KULIGIN. Yesterday I took away these whiskers and this
beard from a boy in the third class. . . . [He puts on the
whiskers and beard] Don't I look like the German master.
. . . [LaugJis] Don't I ? The boys are amusing.
MASHA. You really do look like that German of
yours.
OLGA. [Laughs] Yes. [MASHA weeps.
IRINA. Don't, Masha !
KULIGIN. It's a very good likeness. . . .
Enter NATASHA.
NATASHA. [To the maid] What ? Mihail Ivanitch
Protopopov will sit with little Sophie, and Andrey Sergeye-
vitch can take little Bobby out. Children are such a bother.
. . . [To IRINA] Irina, it's such a pity you're going away
to-morrow. Do stop just another week. [Sees KULIGIN
and screams ; he laughs and takes off his beard and whiskers]
How you frightened me ! [To IRINA] I've grown used to you
and do you think it will be easy for me to part from you ?
I'm going to have Andrey and his violin put into your room
let him fiddle away in there ! and we'll put little Sophie
into his room. The beautiful, lovely child ! What a little
girlie ! To-day she looked at me with such pretty eyes and
said " Mamma ! "
KULIGIN. A beautiful child, it's quite true.
NATASHA. That means I shall have the place to myself
208 THE THREE SISTERS ACTIV
to-morrow. [Sighs] In the first place I shall have that
avenue of fir-trees cut down, then that maple. It's so ugly
at nights. . . . [To IRINA] That belt doesn't suit jrou at
all, dear. . . . It's an error of taste. And I'll give orders
i to have lots and lots of little flowers planted here, and
they'll smell. . . . [Severely] Why is there a fork lying
about here on the seat ? [Going towards the house, to the
maid] Why is there a fork lying about here on the seat, I
say ? [Shouts] Don't you dare to answer me ! I
KULIGIN. Temper ! temper !
[A march is played off ; they all listen.
OLGA. They're going.
CHEBUTIKIN comes in.
MASHA. They're going. Well, well. . . . Bon voyage!
[To her husband] We must be going home. . . . Where's
my coat and hat ?
KULIGIN. I took them in ... I'll bring them, in a
moment.
OLGA. Yes, now we can all go home. It's time.
CHEBUTIKIN. Olga Sergeyevna !
OLGA. What is it ? [Pause] What is it ?
CHEBUTIKIN. Nothing ... I don't know how to tell
you. . . . [Whispers to her.
OLGA. [Frightened] It can't be true !
CHEBUTIKIN. Yes . . . such a story . . . I'm tired out,
exhausted, I won't say any more. . . . [Sadly] Still, it's
all the same !
MASHA. What's happened ?
OLGA. [Embraces IRINA] This is a terrible day ... I
don't know how to tell you, dear. . . .
IRINA. What is it ? Tell me quickly, what is it ?
For God's sake ! [Cries. *
CHEBUTIKIN. The Baro*> ^ roc killed in the duel just now. h
ACT iv THE THREE SISTERS 209
IRINA. [Cries softly] I knew it, I knew it. ...
CHEBUTIKIN. [Sits on a bench at the back of the stage] I'm
tired. . . . [Takes a paper from his pocket] Let 'emery. . .
[Sings softly] "Tarara-boom-deay, it is my washing day. . . ."
Isn't it all the same !
The three sisters are standing, pressing against one
another. (
' MASHA. Oh, how the music plays ! They are leaving us,
one has quite left us, quite and for ever. We remain alone,
to begin our life over again. We must live ... we must
live. . . .
IRINA. [Puts her head on OLGA'S bosom] There will come
a time when everybody will know why, for what purpose,
there is all this suffering, and there will be no more mysteries. -'
But now we must live ... we must work, just work I
To-morrow, I'll go away alone, and I'll teach and give my
whole life to those who, perhaps, need it. It's autumn now,
soon it will be winter, the snow will cover everything, and
I shall be working, working. . . .
OLGA. [Embraces both her sisters] The bands are playing
so gaily, so bravely, and one does so want to live ! Oh, my
God ! Time will pass on, and we shall depart for ever, we
shall be forgotten ; they will forget our faces, voices, and
even how many there were of us, but our sufferings will turn
into joy for those who will live after us, happiness and peace
will reign on earth, and people will remember with kindly
words, and bless those who are living now. Oh dear sisters,
our life is not yet at an end. Let us live. The music is so I
gay, so joyful, and, it seems that in a little while we shall !
know why we are living, why we are suffering. ... If we I
could only know, if we could only know ! 1
The music has been growing softer and softer ; KULIQIN ,
smiling happily, brings out the hat and coat ;
210 THE THREE SISTERS ACTIV
ANDREY wheels out the perambulator in which BOBBY
is sitting.
CHEBUTIKIN. [Sings softly] " Tara . . . ra-boom-deay. . . .
It is my washing-day." . . . [Reads a paper] It's all the
same ! It's all the same !
OLGA. If only we could know, if only we could know !
Curtain.
THE CHERRY ORCHARD
A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS
CHARACTERS
LUBOV ANDRE YEVNA RANEVSKY (Mme. RANEVSKY), a land-
owner
ANYA, her daughter, aged seventeen
VARYA (BARBARA), her adopted daughter, aged twenty-seven
LEONID ANDREYEVITCH GAEV, Mme. Ranevsky's brother
ERMOLAI ALEXEYEVITCH LOPAKHIN, a merchant
PETER SERGEYEVITCH TROFIMOV, a student
BORIS BORISOVITCH SiMEONOV-PiscHiN, a landowner
CHARLOTTA IVANOVNA, a governess
SIMEON PANTELEYEVITCH EPIKHODOV, a clerk
DUNYASHA (AVDOTYA FEDOROVNA), a maidservant
FIERS, an old footman, aged eighty-seven
YASHA, a young footman
A TRAMP
A STATION-MASTER
POST-OFFICE CLERK
GUESTS
A SERVANT
The action takes place on MME. RANEVSKY'S estate
THE CHERRY ORCHARD
ACT I
A room which is still called the nursery. One of the doors
leads into ANYA'S room. It is close on sunrise. It is
May. The cherry-trees are in flower but it is chilly in
the garden. There is an early frost. The windows of
the room are shut. DUNYASHA comes in with a candle,
and LOPAKHIN with a book in his hand.
LOPAKHIN. The train's arrived, thank God. What's the
time?
DUNYASHA. It will soon be two. [Blows out candle] It is
light already.
LOPAKHIN. How much was the train late ? Two hours
at least. [ Yawns and stretches himself] I have made a rotten
mess of it ! I came here on purpose to meet them at the
station, and then overslept myself ... in my chair. It's
a pity. I wish you'd wakened me.
DUNYASHA. I thought you'd gone away. [Listening] I
think I hear them coming.
LOPAKHIN. [Listens] No. ... They've got to collect
their luggage and so on. . . . [Pause] Lubov Andreyevna
has been living abroad for five years ; I don't know what
she'll be like now. . . . She's a good sort an easy, simple
person. I remember when I was a boy of fifteen, my
father, who is dead he used to keep a shop in the village
218
214 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACT i
here hit me on the face with his fist, and my nose bled. . . .
We had gone into the yard together for something or other,
and he was a little drunk. Lubov Andreyevna, as I remember
her now, was still young, and very thin, and she took me
to the washstand here in this very room, the nursery. She
said, " Don't cry, little man, it'll be all right in time for
your wedding." [Pause] "Little man". . . . My father was
a peasant, it's true, but here I am in a white waistcoat and
yellow shoes ... a pearl out of an oyster. I'm rich now,
with lots of money, but just think about it and examine me,
and you'll find I'm still a peasant down to the marrow of
my bones. [Turns over the pages of his book] Here I've
been reading this book, but I understood nothing. I read
and fell asleep. [Pause.
DUNYASHA. The dogs didn't sleep all night ; they know
that they're coming.
LOPAKHIN. What's up with you Dunyasha . . . ?
DUNYASHA. My hands are shaking. I shall faint.
LOPAKHIN. You're too sensitive, Dunyasha. You dress
just like a lady, and you do your hair like one too. You
oughtn't. You should [know your place.
EPIKHODOV. [Enters with a bouquet. He wears a short
jacket and brilliantly polished boots which squeak audibly.
He drops the bouquet as he enters, then picks it up] The
gardener sent these ; says they're to go into the dining-
room. [Gives the bouquet to DUNYASHA.
LOPAKHIN. And 'you'll bring me some kvass.
DUNYASHA. Very well. [Exit.
EPIKHODOV. There's a frost this morning three degrees,
and the cherry-trees are all in flower. I can't approve of
our climate. [Sighs] I can't. Our climate is indisposed to
favour us even this once. And, Ermolai Alexeyevitch, allow
me to say to you, in addition, that I bought myself some
ACT i THE CHERRY ORCHARD 215
boots two days ago, and I beg to assure you that they
squeak in a perfectly unbearable manner. What shall I
put on them ?
LOPAKHIN. Go away. You bore me.
EPIKHODOV. Some misfortune happens to me every day.
But I don't complain ; I'm used to it, and I can smile.
[DUNYASHA comes in and brings LOPAKHIN some kvass] I
shall go. [Knocks over a chair] There. . . . [Triumphantly]
There, you see, if I may use the word, what circumstances
I am in, so to speak. ... It is even simply marvellous.
[Exit.
DUNYASHA. I may confess to you, Ermolai Alexeyevitch,
that Epikhodov has proposed to me.
LOPAKHIN. Ah !
DUNYASHA. I don't know what to do about it. He's a
nice young man, but every now and again, when he begins
talking, you can't understand a word he's saying. I think
I like him. He's madly in love with me. He's an unlucky
man ; every day something happens. We tease him
about it. They call him " Two-and-twenty troubles."
LOPAKHIN. [Listens] There they come, I think.
DUNYASHA. They're coming ! What's the matter with
me ? I'm cold all over.
LOPAKHIN. There they are, right enough. Let's go and
meet them. Will she know me ? We haven't seen each
other for five years.
DUNYASHA. [Excited] I shall faint in a minute. . . .
Oh, I'm fainting !
Two carriages are heard driving up to the house.
LOPAKHIN and DUNYASHA quickly go out. The
stage is empty. A noise begins in the next room.
FIERS, leaning on a stick, walks quickly across the
stage ; he has just been to meet LUBOV ANDREYEVNA.
216 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACTI
He wears an old-fashioned livery and a tall hat. He
is saying something to himself, but not a word of it
can be made out. The noise behind the stage gets
louder and louder. A voice is heard : " Let's go
in there." Enter LUBOV ANDREYEVNA, ANYA, and
CHARLOTTA IVANOVNA with a little dog on a chain,
and all dressed in travelling clothes, VARY A in a
long coat and with a kerchief on her head. GAEV,
SlMEONOV-PlSCHIN, LOPAKHIN, DUNYASHA with
a parcel and an umbrella, and a servant with luggage
all cross the room.
ANYA. Let's come through here. Do you remember
what this room is, mother ?
LUBOV. [Joyfully, through her tears] The nursery !
VARYA. How cold it is ! My hands are quite numb.
[To LUBOV ANDREYEVNA] Your rooms, the white one and
the violet one, are just as they used to be, mother.
LUBOV. My dear nursery, oh, you beautiful room. . . .
I used to sleep here when I was a baby. [Kisses her brother,
VARYA, then her brother again] And Varya is just as she used
to be, just like a nun. And I knew Dunyasha.
GAEV. The train was two hours late. There now ;
how's that for punctuality ?
CHARLOTTA. [To PISCHIN] My dog eats nuts too.
PISCHIN. [Astonished] To think of that, now !
[All go out except ANYA and DUNYASHA.
DUNYASHA. We did have to wait for you !
[Takes off ANYA'S cloak and hat.
ANYA. ... I didn't get any sleep for four nights on the
journey. . . . I'm awfully cold.
DUNYASHA. You went away during Lent, when it was
snowing and frosty, but now ? Darling ! [Laughs and
ACT i THE CHERRY ORCHARD 217
8 her] We did have to wait for you, my joy, my pet. ...
I must tell you at once, I can't bear to wait a minute.
ANYA. [Tired] Something else now . . . ?
DUNYASHA. The clerk, Epikhodov, proposed to me after
Easter.
ANYA. Always the same. . . . [Puts her hair straight]
I've lost all my hairpins. . . .
[She is very tired, and even staggers as she walks.
DUNYASHA. I don't know what to think about it. He
loves me, he loves me so much !
ANYA. [Looks into her room ; in a gentle voice} My room,
my windows, as if I'd never gone away. I'm at home !
To-morrow morning I'll get up and have a run in the
garden. . . . Oh, if I could only get to sleep ! I didn't
sleep the whole journey, I was so bothered.
DUNYASHA. Peter Sergeyevitch came two days ago.
ANYA. {Joyfully} Peter !
DUNYASHA. He sleeps in the bath-house, he lives there.
He said he was afraid he'd be in the way. [Looks at her
pocket-watch} I ought to wake him, but Barbara Mihailovna
told me not to. " Don't wake him," she said.
Enter VARYA, a bunch of keys on her belt.
VARYA. Dunyasha, some coffee, quick. Mother wants
some.
DUNYASHA. This minute. [Exit.
VARYA. Well, you've come, glory be to God. Home
again. [Caressing her} My darling is back again ! My
pretty one is back again !
ANYA. I did have an awful time, I tell you.
VARYA. I can just imagine it !
ANYA. I went away in Holy Week ; it was very cold then.
Charlotta talked the whole way and would go on performing
her tricks. Why did you tie Charlotta on to n i
218 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACTI
VARYA. You couldn't go alone, darling, at seventeen !
ANYA. We went to Paris ; it's cold there and snowing.
I talk French perfectly horribly. My mother lives on the
fifth floor. I go to her, and find her there with various
Frenchmen, women, an old abbe with a book, and every-
thing in tobacco smoke and with no comfort at all. I
suddenly became very sorry for mother so sorry that I
took her head in my arms and hugged her and wouldn't
let her go. Then mother started hugging me and crying. . . .
VARYA. [Weeping] Don't say any more, don't say any
more. . . .
ANYA. She's already sold her villa near Mentone ; she's
nothing left, nothing. And I haven't a copeck left either ;
we only just managed to get here. And mother won't
understand ! We had dinner at a station ; she asked for
all the expensive things, and tipped the waiters one rouble
each. And Charlotta too. Yasha wants his share too
it's too bad. Mother's got a footman now, Yasha ; we've
brought him here.
VARYA. I saw the wretch.
ANYA. How's business ? Has the interest been paid ?
VARYA. Not much chance of that.
ANYA. Oh God, oh God ...
VARYA. The place will be sold in August.
ANYA. God. . . .
LOPAKHIN. [Looks in at the door and moos] Moo ! . . .
[Exit.
VARYA. [Through her tears] I'd like to. ...
[Shakes her fist.
ANYA. [Embraces VARYA, softly] Varya, has he proposed
to you ? [VARYA shakes her head] But he loves you. . . .
Why don't you make up your minds ? Why do you keep
on waiting ?
ACII THE CHERRY ORCHARD 219
VARYA. I think that it will all come to nothing. He's
a busy man. I'm not his affair ... he pays no attention
to me. Bless the man, I don't want to see him. . . . But
everybody talks about our marriage, everybody congratu-
lates ine, and there's nothing in it at all, it's all like a dream.
[In another tone] You've got a brooch like a bee.
ANYA. [Sadly] Mother bought it. [Goes into her room,
and talks lightly, like a child] In Paris I went up in a balloon !
VARYA. My darling's come back, my pretty one's come
back ! [DUNYASHA has already returned with the coffee-pot
and is making the coffee] I go about all day, looking after
the house, and I think all the time, if only you could marry
a rich man, then I'd be happy and would go away some-
where by myself, then to Kiev ... to Moscow, and so
on, from one holy place to another. I'd tramp and tramp.
That would be splendid !
ANYA. The birds are singing in the garden. What time
is it now ?
VARYA. It must be getting on for three. Time you went
to sleep, darling. [Goes into ANYA'S room] Splendid !
[Enter YASHA with a plaid shawl and a travelling bag.
YASHA. [Crossing the stage : Politely] May I go this way ?
DUNYASHA. I hardly knew you, Yasha. You have
changed abroad.
YASHA. Hm . . . and who are you ?
DUNYASHA. When you went away I was only so high.
[Showing with her hand] I'm Dunyasha, the daughter of
Theodore Kozoyedov. You don't remember !
YASHA. Oh, you little cucumber !
Looks round and embraces her. She screams and drops
a saucer. YASHA goes out quickly.
VARYA. [In the doorway : In an angry voice] What's
220 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACT i
DUNYASHA. [Through her tears] I've broken a saucer.
VARYA. It may bring luck.
ANYA. [Coming out of her room] We must tell mother
that Peter's here.
VARYA. I told them not to wake him.
ANYA. [Thoughtfully] Father died six years ago, and a
month later my brother Grisha was drowned in the river
such a dear little boy of seven ! Mother couldn't bear it ;
she went away, away, without looking round. . . .
[Shudders] How I understand her ; if only she knew !
And Peter Trofimov was Grisha's tutor, he might tell
her. . . .
Enter FIERS in a short jacket and white waistcoat.
FIERS. [Goes to the coffee-pot, nervously] The mistress
is going to have some food here. . . . [Puts on white gloves]
Is the coffee ready ? [To DUNYASHA, severely] You !
Where's the cream ?
DUNYASHA. Oh, dear me . . . ! [Rapid exit.
FIERS. [Fussing round the coffee-pot] Oh, you bungler. . . .
[Murmurs to himself] Back from Paris . . . the master
went to Paris once . . . in a carriage. . . . [Laughs.
VARYA. What are you talking about, Fiers ?
FIERS. I beg your pardon ? [Joyfully] The mistress is
home again. I've lived to see her ! Don't care if I die
now. . . . [Weeps with joy.
Enter LUBOV ANDREYEVNA, GAEV, LOPAKHIN, and
SIMEONOV-PISCHIN, the latter in a long, jacket
of thin cloth and loose trousers. GAEV, coming in,
moves his arms and body about as if he is playing
billiards.
LUBOV. Let me remember now. Bed into the corner !
Twice into the centre !
GAEV. Eight into the pocket ! Once upon a time you
THE CHERRY ORCHARD 221
ind I used both to sleep in this room, and now I'm fifty-
Hie ; it does seem strange.
LOPAKHIN. Yes, time does go.
GAEV. Who does ?
LOPAKHIN. I said that time does go.
GAEV. It smells of patchouli here.
ANYA. I'm going to bed. Good-night, mother.
[Kisses her.
LUBOV. My lovely little one. [Kisses her hand] Glad to
be at home ? I can't get over it.
ANYA. Good-night, uncle.
GAEV. [Kisses her face and hands] God be with you.
Sow you do resemble your mother! [To his sister] You
tfere just like her at her age, Luba.
ANYA gives her hand to LOPAKHIN and PISCHIN and
goes out, shutting the door behind her.
LUBOV. She's awfully tired.
PISCHIN. It's a very long journey.
VARYA. [To LOPAKHIN and PISCHIN] Well, sirs, it's
jetting on for three, quite time you went.
Liftfov. [Laughs] You're just the same as ever, Varya.
[Draws her close and kisses her] I'll have some coffee now,
;hen we'll all go. [FiERS lays a cushion under her feet] Thank
pou, dear. I'm used to coffee. I drink it day and night,
rhank you, dear old man. [Kisses FIERS.
VARYA. I'll go and see if they've brought in all the
iuggage. [Exit.
; LUBOV. Is it really I who am sitting here ? [Laughs] I
tfant to jump about and wave my arms. [Covers her fyce
mth her hands] But suppose I'm dreaming ! God knows
[ love my own country, I love it deeply ; I couldn't look
)ut of the railway carriage, I cried so much. [Through her
bars] Still, I must have my coffee. Thank you, Fiers.
222 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACT i
Thank you, dear old man. I'm so glad you're still
with us.
FIERS. The day before yesterday.
GAEV. He doesn't hear well.
LOPAKHIN. I've got to go off to Kharkov by the five
o'clock train. I'm awfully sorry ! I should like to have
a look at you, to gossip a little. You're as fine-looking
as ever.
PISCHIN. [Breathes heavily] Even finer-looking . . .
dressed in Paris fashions . . . confound it all.
LOPAKHIN. Your brother, Leonid Andreyevitch, says I'm
a snob, a usurer, but that is absolutely nothing to me. Let
him talk. Only I do wish you would believe in me as
you once did, that your wonderful, touching eyes would
look at me as they did before. Merciful God ! My father
was the serf of your grandfather and your own father, but
you you more than anybody else did so much for me
once upon a time that I've forgotten everything and love
you as if you belonged to my family . . . and even more.
LUBOV. I can't sit still, I'm not in a state to do it.
[Jumps up and walks about in great excitement] I'll U^ver
survive this happiness. . . . You can laugh at me ; I'm
a silly woman. . . . My dear little cupboard. [Kisses
cupboard] My little table.
GAEV. Nurse has died in your absence.
LUBOV. [Sits and drinks coffee] Yes, bless her soul. I
heard by letter.
GAEV. And Anastasius has died too. Peter Kosoy has
left me and now lives in town with the Commissioner of
Police.
Takes a box of sugar-candy out of his pocket and sucks
a piece.
PISCHIN. My daughter, Dashenka, sends her love.
ACT i THE CHERRY ORCHARD 223
LOPAKHIN. I want to say something very pleasant, very
delightful, to you. [Looks at his watch] I'm going away at
once, I haven't much time . . . but I'll tell you all about
it in two or three words. As you already know, your
cherry orchard is to be sold to pay your debts, and the sale
is fixed for August 22 ; but you needn't be alarmed, dear
madam, you may sleep in peace ; there's a way out. !
Here's my plan. Please attend carefully ! Your estate j
is only thirteen miles from the town, the railway runs by, j
and if the cherry orchard and the land by the river are
broken up into building lots and are then leased off for *
villas you'll get at least twenty-five thousand roubles a
year profit out of it.
GAEV. How utterly absurd !
LUBOV. I don't understand you at all, Ermolai Alexeye-
vitch.
LOPAKHIN. You will get twenty-five roubles a year for
each dessiatin from the leaseholders at the very least,
and if you advertise now I'm willing to bet that you won't
have a vacant plot left by the autumn ; they'll all go. In
a word, you're saved. I congratulate you. Only, of
course, you'll have to put things straight, and clean up. ...
For instance, you'll have to pull down all the old buildings,
this house, which isn't any use to anybody now, and cut v
down the old cherry orchard. . . .
LUBOV. Cut it down ? My dear man, you must excuse
me, but you don't understand anything at all. If there's
anything interesting or remarkable in the whole province,
it's this cherry orchard of ours.
LOPAKHIN. The only remarkable thing about the orchard
is that it's very large. It only bears fruit every other year, v
and even then you don't know what to do with them ;
nobody buys any.
224 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACT i
GAEV. This orchard is mentioned in the " Encyclopaedic
Dictionary."
LOPAKHIN. [Looks at his watch] If we can't think of
anything and don't make up our minds to anything, then
on August 22 both the cherry orchard and the whole estate
will be up for auction. Make up your mind ! I swear
there's no other way out, I'll swear it again.
FIERS. In the old days, forty or fifty years back, they
dried the cherries, soaked them and pickled them, and
made jam of them, and it used to happen that . . .
GAEV. Be quiet, Fiers.
FIERS. And then we'd send the dried cherries off in
carts to Moscow and Kharkov. And money ! And the
dried cherries were soft, juicy, sweet, and nicely scented. . . .
They knew the way. . . .
LUBOV. What was the way ?
FIERS. They've forgotten. Nobody remembers.
PISCHIN. [To LUBOV ANDREYEVNA] What about Paris ?
Eh ? Did you eat frogs ?
LUBOV. I ate crocodiles.
PISCHIN. To think of that, now.
LOPAKHIN. Up to now in the villages there were only the
gentry and the labourers, and now the people who live in
villas have arrived. All towns now, even small ones, are
surrounded by villas. And it's safe to say that in twenty
years' time the villa resident will be all over the place.
At present he sits on his balcony and drinks tea, but it may
well come to pass that he'll begin to cultivate his patch
of land, and then your cherry orchard will be happy, rich,
splendid. . . .
GAEV. [Angry] What rot !
Enter VARY A and YASHA.
VARYA. There are two telegrams for you, little mother.
ACT i THE CHERRY ORCHARD 225
[Picks out a key and noisily unlocks an antique cupboard]
Here they are.
LUBOV. They're from Paris. . . . [Tears them up without
reading them] I've done with Paris.
GAEV. And do you know, Luba, how old this case is ?
A week ago I took out the bottom drawer ; I looked and
saw figures burnt out in it. That case was made exactly
a hundxed years ago. What do you think of that ? What ?
We could celebrate its jubilee. It hasn't a soul of its own,
but still, say what you will, it's a fine bookcase.
PISCHIN. [Astonished] A hundred years. . . . Think of
that !
GAEV. Yes . . . it's a real thing. [Handling it] My
dear and honoured case ! I congratulate you on your
existence, which has already for more than a hundred years
been directed towards the bright ideals of good and justice ;
your silent call to productive labour has not grown less
in the hundred years [Weeping] during which you have
upheld virtue and faith in a better future to the generations
of our race, educating us up to ideals of goodness and to
the knowledge of a common consciousness. [Pause.
LOPAKHIN. Yes.
LUBOV. You're just the same as ever, Leon.
GAEV. [A little confused] OfE the white on the right, into
the corner pocket. Red ball goes into the middle pocket !
LOPAKHIN. [Looks at his watch] It's time I went.
YASHA. [Giving LUBOV ANDRE YE VNA her medicine] Will
you take your pills now ?
PISCHIN. You oughtn't to take medicines, dear madam ;
they do you neither harm nor good. . . . Give them here,
dear madam. [Takes the pills, turns them out into the palm
of his hand, blows on tJiem, puts them into his mouth, and
drinks some kvass] There !
226 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACTI
LUBOV. [Frightened] You're off your head !
PISCHIN. I've taken all the pills.
LOPAKHIN. Gormandizer ! [All laugh.
FIERS. They were here in Easter week and ate half a
pailful of cucumbers. . . . [Mumbles.
LUBOV. What's he driving at ?
VARYA. He's been mumbling away for three years. We're
used to that.
YASHA. Senile decay.
CHARLOTTA IVANOVNA crosses the stage, dressed in
white : she is very thin and tightly laced ; has a
lorgnette at her waist.
LOPAKHIN. Excuse me, Charlotta Ivanovna, I haven't
said " How do you do " to you yet. [Tries to kiss her hand.
CHARLOTTA. [Takes her hand away} If you let people
kiss your hand, then they'll want your elbow, then your
shoulder, and then . . .
LOPAKHIN. My luck's out to-day ! [All laugh} Show us a
trick, Charlotta Ivanovna !
LUBOV ANDREYEVNA. Charlotta, do us a trick.
CHARLOTTA. It's not necessary. I want to go to bed.
[Exit.
LOPAKHIN. We shall see each other in three weeks.
[Kisses LUBOV ANDREYEVNA'S hand] Now, good-bye. It's
time to go. [To GAEV] See you again. [Kisses PISCHIN]
Au revoir. [Gives his hand to VARYA, then to FIERS
and to YASHA] I don't want to go away. [To LUBOV
ANDREYEVNA]. If you think about the villas and make
up your mind, then just let me know, and I'll raise
a loan of 50,000 roubles at once. Think about it
seriously.
VARYA. [Angrily] Do go, now !
LOPAKHIN. I'm going, I'm going. . . . [Exit.
ACT i THE CHERRY ORCHARD 227
GAEV. Snob. Still, I beg pardon. . . . Varya's going
to marry him, he's Varya's young man.
VARYA. Don't talk too much, uncle.
LUBOV. Why not, Varya ? I should be very glad.
He's a good man.
PiscmN. To speak the honest truth . . . he's a worthy
man. . . . And my Dashenka . . . also says that . . .
she says lots of things. [Snores, but wakes up again at once]
But still, dear madam, if you could lend me ... 240
roubles ... to pay the interest on my mortgage to-
morrow . . .
VARYA. [Frightened] We haven't got it, we haven't got
it!
LUBOV. It's quite true. I've nothing at all.
PISCHIN. I'll find it all right. [Laughs] I never lose hope.
I used to think, " Everything's lost now. I'm a dead man,"
when, lo and behold, a railway was built over my land . . .
and they paid me for it. And something else will happen
to-day or to-morrow. Dashenka may win 20,000 roubles
. . . she's got a ticket.
LUBOV. The coffee's all gone, we can go to bed.
FIERS. [Brushing GAEV'S trousers ; in an insistent tone]
You've put on the wrong trousers again. What am I to
do with you ?
VARYA. [Quietly] Anya's asleep. [Opens window quietly]
The sun has risen already ; it isn't cold. Look, little
mother : what lovely trees ! And the air ! The starlings
are singing !
GAEV. [Opens the other window] The whole garden's
white. You haven't forgotten, Luba ? There's that long
nvenue going straight, straight, like a stretched strap ; it
shines on moonlight nights. Do you remember ? You
haven't forgotten ?
228 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACTI
LUBOV. [Looks out into the garden] Oh, my childhood,
days of my innocence ! In this nursery I used to sleep ;
I used to look out from here into the orchard. Happiness
used to wake with me every morning, and then it was just
as it is now ; nothing has changed. [Laughs from joy] It's
all, all white ! Oh, my orchard ! After the dark autumns
and the cold winters, you're young again, full of happiness,
the angels of heaven haven't left you. ... If only I could
take my heavy burden off my breast and shoulders, if I
could forget my past !
GAEV. Yes, and they'll sell this orchard to pay off debts.
How strange it seems !
LUBOV. Look, there's my dead mother going in the
orchard . . . dressed in white ! [Laughs from joy] That's
she.
GAEV. Where ?
VARYA. God bless you, little mother.
LUBOV. There's nobody there ; I thought I saw some-
body. On the right, at the turning by the summer-house,
a white little tree bent down, looking just like a woman.
[Enter TROFIMOV in a worn student uniform and spectacles]
What a marvellous garden ! White masses of flowers, the
blue sky. . . .
TROFIMOV. Lubov Andreyevna ! [She looks round at him]
I only want to show myself, and I'll go away. [Kisses her
hand warmly] I was told to wait till the morning, but I
didn't have the patience.
[LUBOV ANDREYEVNA looks surprised.
VARYA. [Crying] It's Peter Trofimov.
TROFIMOV. Peter Trofimov, once the tutor of your
Grisha. . . . Have I changed so much ?
LUBOV ANDREYEVNA embraces him and cries softly.
GAEV. [Confused] That's enough, that's enough, Luba.
ACT i THE CHERRY ORCHARD 229
VARYA. [Weeps] But I told you, Peter, to wait till to-
morrow.
LUBOV. My Grisha ... my boy . . . Grisha ... my
son.
VARYA. What are we to do, little mother ? It's the
will of God.
TROFIMOV. [Softly, through his tears] It's all right, it's
all right.
LUBOV. [Still weeping] My boy's dead ; he was drowned.
Why ? Why, my friend ? [Softly] Anya's asleep in there.
I am speaking so loudly, making such a noise. . . . Well,
Peter ? What's made you look so bad ? Why have you
grown so old ?
TROFIMOV. In the train an old woman called me a decayed
gentleman.
LUBOV. You were quite a boy then, a nice little student,
and now your hair is not at all thick and you wear spec-
tacles. Are you really still a student ? [Goes to the door.
TROFIMOV. I suppose I shall always be a student.
LUBOV. [Kisses her brother, then VARYA] Well, let's go to
bed. . . . And you've grown older, Leonid.
PiscmN. [Follows her] Yes, we've got to go to bed. . . .
Oh, my gout ! I'll stay the night here. If only, Lubov
Andreyevna, my dear, you could get me 240 roubles to-
morrow morning
GAEV. Still the same story.
PiscmN. Two hundred and forty roubles ... to pay
the interest on the mortgage.
LUBOV. I haven't any money, dear man.
PISCHIN. I'll give it back . . . it's a small sum. . . .
LUBOV. Well then, Leonid will give it to you. . . . Let
him have it, Leonid.
GAEV. By all means ; hold out your hand.
230 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACTI
LUBOV. Why not ? He wants it ; he'll give it back.
LUBOV ANDREYEVNA, TROFIMOV, PISCHIN, and FIERS
go out. GAEV, VARYA, and YASHA remain.
GAEV. My sister hasn't lost the habit of throwing money
about. [To YASHA] Stand off, do ; you smell of poultry.
YASHA. [Grins] You are just the same as ever, Leonid
Andreyevitch.
GAEV. Eeally ? [To VARYA] What's he saying ?
VARYA. [To YASHA] Your mother's come from the
village ; she's been sitting in the servants' room since
yesterday, and wants to see you. . . .
YASHA. Bless the woman !
VARYA. Shameless man.
YASHA. A lot of use there is in her coming. She might
have come to-morrow just as well. [Exit.
VARYA. Mother hasn't altered a scrap, she's just as she
, always was. She'd give away everything, if the idea
only entered her head.
GAEV. Yes. . . . [Pause] If there's any illness for which
people offer many remedies, you may be sure that particular
illness is incurable, I think. I work my brains to their
hardest. I've several remedies, very many, and that really
means I've none at all. It would be nice to inherit a
fortune from somebody, it would be nice to marry our
Anya to a rich man, it would be nice to go to Yaroslav and
try my luck with my aunt the Countess. My aunt is very,
very rich.
VARYA. [Tfee^s] If only God helped us.
GAEV. Don't cry. My aunt's very rich, but she doesn't
like us. My sister, in the first place, married an advocate,
not a noble. . . . [ANYA appears in the doorway] She not
only married a man who was not a noble, but she behaved
V herself in a way which cannot be described as proper.
ACT i THE CHERRY ORCHARD 231
She's nice and kind and charming, and I'm very fond of
her, but say what you will in her favour and you still have
to admit that she's wicked ; you can feel it in her slightest
movements.
VARYA. [Whisper] Anya's in the doorway.
GAEV. Really ? [Pause] It's curious, something's got
into my right eye ... I can't see properly out of it. And
on Thursday, when I was at the District Court . . .
Enter ANY A.
VARYA. Why aren't you in bed, Anya ?
ANYA. Can't sleep. It's no good.
GAEV. My darling ! [Kisses ANYA'S face and hands] My
child. . . . [Crying] You're not my niece, you're my angel,
you're my all. . . . Believe in me, believe. . .
ANYA. I do believe in you, uncle. Everybody loves you
and respects you . . . but, uncle dear, you ought to say
nothing, no more than that. What were you saying just
now about my mother, your own sister ? Why did you
say those things ?
GAEV. Yes, yes. [Covers his face with her Jiand] Yes,
really, it was awful. Save me, my God ! And only just
now I made a speech before a bookcase . . . it's so silly !
And only when I'd finished I knew how silly it was.
VARYA. Yes, uncle dear, you really ought to say less.
Keep quiet, that's all.
ANYA. You'd be so much happier in yourself if you
only kept quiet.
GAEV. All right, I'll be quiet. [Kisses their hands] I'll
be quiet. But let's talk business. On Thursday I was in
t he District Court, and a lot of us met there together, and
we began to talk of this, that, and the other, and now I
think I can arrange a loan to pay the interest into the
bank.
232 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACTI
VARYA. If only God would help us !
GAEV. I'll go on Tuesday. I'll talk to you about it again.'
[To VARYA] Don't howl. [To ANYA] Your mother will
have a talk to Lopakhin ; he, of course, won't refuse. . . .
And when you've rested you'll go to Yaroslav to the
Countess, your grandmother. So you see, we'll have three
irons in the fire, and we'll be safe. We'll pay up the
interest. I'm certain. [Puts some sugar-candy into his
mouth] I swear on my honour, on anything you will, that
the estate will not be sold ! [Excitedly] I swear on my
happiness ! Here's my hand. You may call me a dis-
honourable wretch if I let it go to auction ! I swear by
all I am !
ANYA. [She is calm again and happy] How good and
clever you are, uncle. [Embraces him] I'm happy now !
I'm happy ! AU's well !
Enter FIERS.
TIERS. [Reproachfully] Leonid Andreyevitch, don't you
fear God ? When are you going to bed ?
GAEV. Soon, soon. You go away, Fiers. I'll undress
myself. Well, children, bye-bye . . . ! I'll give you the
details to-morrow, but let's go to bed now. [Kisses ANYA
and VARYA] I'm a man of the eighties. . . . People don't
praise those years much, but I can still say that I've
suffered for my beliefs. The peasants don't love me for
nothing, I assure you. We've got to learn to know the
peasants ! We ought to learn how. . . .
ANYA. You're doing it again, uncle !
VARYA. Be quiet, uncle !
FIERS. [Angrily] Leonid Andreyevitch !
GAEV. I'm coming, I'm coming. ... Go to bed now.
Off two cushions into the middle ! I turn over a new
leaf. . . . [Ex-it. FIERS goes out after him.
ACT i THE CHERRY ORCHARD 233
ANYA. I'm quieter now. I don't want to go to Yaroslav,
I don't like grandmother ; but I'm calm now, thanks to
uncle. [Sits down.
VARYA. It's time to go to sleep. I'll go. There's been
an unpleasantness here while you were away. In the old
servants' part of the house, as you know, only the old
people live little old Efim and Polya and Evstigney, and
Karp as well. They started letting some tramps or other
spend the night there I said nothing. Then I heard that
they were saying that I had ordered them to be fed on
peas and nothing else ; from meanness, you see. . . . And
it was all Evstigney's doing. . . . Very well, I thought,
if that's what the matter is, just you wait. So I call
Evstigney. . . . [Yawns] He comes. " What's this," I
say, " Evstigney, you old fool. . . . [Looks at ANYA]
Anya dear ! [Pause] She's dropped off. ... [Takes ANYA'S
arm] Let's go to bye-bye. . . . Come along ! . . . [Leads
her] My darling's gone to sleep ! Come on. ... [They
go. In the distance, the other side of the orchard, a shepherd
plays his pipe. TROFIMOV crosses the stage and stops on
<] VARYA and ANYA] Sh ! She's asleep, asleep. Come
on, dear.
ANYA. [Quietly, half-asleep] I'm so tired ... all the
bells . . . uncle, dear ! Mother and uncle !
VARYA. Come on, dear, come on !
[They go into ANYA'S room.
TROFIMOV. [Moved] My sun ! My spring !
Curtain.
ACT II
In a field. An old, crooked shrine, which has been long
abandoned ; near it a well and large stones, which
apparently are old tombstones, and an old garden seat.
The road is seen to GAEV'S estate. On one side rise dark
poplars, behind them begins the cherry orchard. In the
distance is a row of telegraph poles, and far, far away
on the horizon are the indistinct signs of a large town,
which can only be seen on the finest and clearest days.
It is close on sunset. CHARLOTTA, YASHA, and DUN-
YASHA are sitting on the seat ; EPIKHODOV stands by and
plays on a guitar ; all seem thoughtful. CHARLOTTA
wears a man's old peaked cap ; she has unslung a rifle
from her shoulders and is putting to rights the buckle. on
the strap.
CHARLOTTA. [Thoughtfully'} I haven't a real passport.
I don't know how old I am, and I think I'm young. When
I was a little girl my father and mother used to go round
fairs and give very good performances and I used to do
the salto mortale and various little things. And when papa
and mamma died a German lady took me to her and
began to teach me. I liked it. I grew up and became a
governess. And where I came from and who I am, I don't
know. . . . Who my parents were perhaps they weren't
married I don't know. [Takes a cucumber out of her pocket
and eats] I don't know anything. [Pause] I do want to
234
ACT ii THE CHERRY ORCHARD
talk, but I haven't anybody to talk to ... I haven't
anybody at all.
EPIKHODOV. [Plays on the guitar and sings]
" What is this noisy earth to me,
What matter friends and foes ? "
I do like playing on the mandoline !
DUNYASHA. That's a guitar, not a mandoline.
[Looks at herself in a little mirror and powders herself.
EPIKHODOV. For the enamoured madman, this is a
mandoline. [Sings]
11 Oh that the heart was warmed,
By all the flames of love returned ! "
YASHA sings too.
CHARLOTTA. These people sing terribly. . . . Foo ! Like
jackals.
DUNYASHA. [To YASHA] Still, it must be nice to live
abroad.
YASHA. Yes, certainly. I cannot differ from you there.
[Yawns and lights a cigar.
EPIKHODOV. That is perfectly natural. Abroad every-
thing is in full complexity.
YASHA. That goes without saying.
EPIKHODOV. I'm an educated man, I read various
remarkable books, but I cannot understand the direction
I myself want to go whether to live or to shoot myself,
as it were. So, in case, I always carry a revolver about
with me. Here it is. [Shows a revolver.
CHARLOTTA. I've done. Now I'll go. [Slings tJic rifle]
You, Epikhodov, are a very clever man and very terrible ;
women must be madly in love with you. Brrr ! [Going]
These wise ones are all so stupid. I've nobody to talk to.
236 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACT n
I'm always alone, " alone ; I've nobody at all ... and I
don't know who I am or why I live. [Exit slowly.
EPIKHODOV. As a matter of fact, independently of
everything else, I must express my feeling, among other
things, that fate has been as pitiless in her dealings with me
as a storm is to a small ship. Suppose, let us grant, I am
wrong ; then why did I wake up this morning, to give an
example, and behold an enormous spider on my chest,
like that. [Shows with both hands] And if I do drink some
kvass, why is it that there is bound to be something of the
most indelicate nature in it, such as a beetle ? [Pause.
Have you read Buckle ? [Pause] I should like to trouble
you, Avdotya Fedorovna, for two words.
DUNYASHA. Say on.
EPIKHODOV. I should prefer to be alone with you. [Sighs.
DUNYASHA. [Shy] Very well, only first bring me my
little cloak. . . . It's by the cupboard. It's a little damp
here.
EPIKHODOV. Very well . . . I'll bring it. ... Now I
know what to do with my revolver.
[Takes guitar and exit, strumming.
YASHA. Two-and-twenty troubles ! A silly man, between
you and me and the gatepost. [Yawns.
DUNYASHA. I hope to goodness he won't shoot himself.
[Pause] I'm so nervous, I'm worried. I went into service
when I was quite a little girl, and now I'm not used to
common life, and my hands are white, white as a lady's.
I'm so tender and so delicate now, respectable and afraid
of everything. . . . I'm so frightened. And I don't know
what will happen to my nerves if you deceive me, Yasha.
YASHA. [Kisses her] Little cucumber ! Of course, every
girl must respect herself; there's nothing I dislike more
than a badly behaved girl.
ACT ii THE CHERRY ORCHARD 237
DUNYASHA. I'm awfully in love with you ; you're
educated, you can talk about everything. [Pause.
YASHA. [Yawns] Yes. I think this : if a girl loves
anybody, then that means she's immoral. [Pause] It's
nice to smoke a cigar out in the open air. . . . [Listens]
Somebody's coming. It's the mistress, and people with
her. [DUNYASHA embraces him suddenly] Go to the house,
as if you'd been bathing in the river ; go by this path, or
they'll meet you and will think I've been meeting you.
I can't stand that sort of thing.
DUNYASHA. [Coughs quietly] My head's aching because
of your cigar.
Exit. YASHA remains, sitting by the shrine. Enter
LUBOV ANDREYEVNA, GAEV, and LOPAKHIN.
LOPAKHIN. You must make up your mind definitely
there's no time to waste. The question is perfectly plain.
Are you willing to let the land for villas or no ? Just one
word, yes or no ? Just one word !
LUBOV. Who's smoking horrible cigars here ? [Sits.
GAEV. They built that railway ; that's made this place
very handy. [Sits] Went to town and had lunch . . . red
in the middle ! I'd like to go in now and have just one
game.
LUBOV. You'll have time.
LOPAKHIN. Just one word ! [Imploringly] Give me an
answer !
GAEV. [Yawns] Really!
LUBOV. [Looks in her purse] I had a lot of money yester-
day, but there's very little to-day. My poor Varya feeds
everybody on milk soup to save money, in the kitchen the
old people only get peas, and I spend recklessly. [Drops
the purse, scattering gold coins] There, they are all over the
place.
238 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACT n
YASHA. Permit me to pick them up.
[Collects the coins.
LUBOV. Please do, Yasha. And why did I go and have
lunch there ? . . . A horrid restaurant with band and
tablecloths smelling of soap. . . . Why do you drink so
much, Leon ? Why do you eat so much ? Why do you
talk so much ? You talked again too much to-day in the
restaurant, and it wasn't at all to the point about the
seventies and about decadents. And to whom ? Talking
to the waiters about decadents !
LOPAKHIN. Yes.
GAEV. [Waves his hand] I can't be cured, that's obvious.
. . . [Irritably to YASHA] What's the matter ? Why do
you keep twisting about in front of me ?
YASHA. [Laughs] I can't listen to your voice without
laughing.
GAEV. [To his sister] Either he or I ...
LUBOV. Go away, Yasha ; get out of this. . . .
YASHA. [Gives purse to LUBOV ANDRE YEVNA] I'll go at
once. [Hardly able to keep from laughing] This minute. . , .
[Exit.
LOPAKHIN. That rich mair<-Deriganov is preparing to
buy your estate. They say he'll come to the sale himself.
LUBOV. Where did you hear that ?
LOPAKHIN. They say so in town.
GAEV. Our Yaroslav aunt has promised to send some-
thing, but I don't know when or how much.
LOPAKHIN. How much will she send ? A hundred
thousand roubles ? Or two, perhaps ?
LUBOV. I'd be glad of ten or fifteen thousand.
LOPAKHIN. You must excuse my saying so, but I've
never met such frivolous people as you before, or anybody
so unbusinesslike and peculiar. Here I am telling you in
ACT ii THE CHERRY ORCHARD 239
plain language that your estate will be sold, and you don't
seem to understand.
LUBOV. What are we to do ? Tell us, what ?
LOPAKHIN. I tell you every day. I say the same thing
every day. Both the cherryorchard and the land must be
leased off for villas and at once, immediately the auction
is staring you in the face : Understand ! Once you do
definitely make up your minds to the villas, then you'll
have as much money as you want and you'll be saved.
LUBOV. Villas and villa residents it's so vulgar, excuse
me.
GAEV. I entirely agree with you.
LOPAKHIN. I must cry or yell or faint. I can't ! You're
too much for me ! [To GAEV] You old woman !
GAEV. Really !
LOPAKHIN. Old woman ! [Going out.
LUBOV. [Frightened] No, don't go away, do stop ; be
a dear. Please. Perhaps we'll find some way out !
LOPAKHIN. What's the good of trying to think !
LUBOV. Please don't go away. It's nicer when you're
here. . . . [Pause] I keep on waiting for something to
happen, as if the house is J^c'ng to collapse over our heads.
GAEV. [Thinking deeply] Double in the corner . . .
across the middle. . . .
LUBOV. We have been too sinful. . . .
LOPAKHIN. What sins have you committed ?
GAEV. [Puts candy into his mouth] They say that I've
eaten all my substance in sugar-candies. [Laughs.
LUBOV. Oh, my sins. . . . I've always scattered money
about without holding myself in, like a madwoman, and
I married a man who made nothing but debts. My husband
died of champagne he drank terribly and to my mis-
fortune, I fell in love with another man and went off
240 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACT n
with him, and just at that time it was my first punishment,
a blow that hit me right on the head here, in the river
. . . my boy was drowned, and I went away, quite away,
never to return, never to see this river again. ... I shut
my eyes and ran without thinking, but he ran after me ...
without pity, without respect. I bought a villa near
Mentone because he fell ill there, and for three days I
knew no rest either by day or night ; the sick man wore
me out, and my soul dried up. And last year, when they
had sold the villa to pay my debts, I went away to Paris,
and there he robbed me of all I had and threw me over and
went ofl with another woman. I tried to poison myself.
... It was so silly, so shameful. . . . And suddenly I
longed to be back in Russia, my own land, with my little
girl. . . . [Wipes her tears'] Lord, Lord be merciful to me,
forgive me my sins ! Punish me no more ! [Takes a telegram
out of her pocket] I had this to-day from Paris. . . . He begs
my forgiveness, he implores me to return. . . . [Tears it
up] Don't I hear music ? [Listens.
G-AEV. That is our celebrated Jewish band. You
remember four violins, a flute, and a double-bass.
LUBOV. So it still exists ? It would be nice if they came
along some evening.
LOPAKHIN. [Listens] I can't hear. . . . [Sings quietly]
"For money will the Germans make a Frenchman of a
Russian. " [Laughs] I saw such an awfully funny thing at
the theatre last night.
LUBOV. I'm quite sure there wasn't anything at all funny.
You oughtn't to go and see plays, you ought to go and
look at yourself. What a grey life you lead, what a lot
you talk unnecessarily.
LOPAKHIN. It's true. To speak the straight truth, we
live a silly life. [Pause] My father was a peasant, an idiot ;
ACT ii THE CHERRY ORCHARD 241
he understood nothing, he didn't teach me, he was always
drunk, and always used a stick on me. In point of fact,
I'm a fool and an idiot too. I've never learned anything
my handwriting is bad, I write so that I'm quite ashamed
before people, like a pig !
LUBOV. You ought to get married, my friend.
LOPAKHIN. Yes . . . that's true.
LUBOV. Why not to our Varya ? She's a nice girl.
LOPAKHIN. Yes.
LUBOV. She's quite homely in her ways, works all day,
and, what matters most, she's in love with you. And
you've liked her for a long time.
LOPAKHIN. Well ? I don't mind . . . she's a nice girl.
[Pause.
GAEV. I'm offered a place in a bank. Six thousand
roubles a year. . . . Did you hear ?
LUBOV. What's the matter with you ! Stay where you
are. . . .
Enter FIERS with an overcoat.
FIERS. [To GAEV] Please, sir, put this on, it's damp.
GAEV. [Putting it on] You're a nuisance, old man.
FIERS. It's all very well. . . . You went away this
morning without telling me. [Examining GAEV.
LUBOV. How old you've grown, Fiers !
FIERS. I beg your pardon ?
LOPAKHIN. She says you've grown very old !
FIERS. I've been alive a long time. They were already
getting ready to marry me before your father was
born. . . . [Laughs] And when the Emancipation
came I was already first valet. Only I didn't agree
with the Emancipation and remained with my people. . . .
[Pause] I remember everybody was happy, but
they didn't know why.
Q
242 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACTII
LOPAKHIN. It was very good for them in the old days.
At any rate, they used to beat them.
FIERS. [Not hearing] Rather. The peasants kept their
distance from the masters and the masters kept their
distance from the peasants, but now everything's all
anyhow and you can't understand anything.
GAEV. Be quiet, Fiers. I've got to go to town to-
morrow. I've been promised an introduction to a General
who may lend me money on a bill.
LOPAKHIN. Nothing will come of it. And you won't
pay your interest, don't you worry.
LUBOV. He's talking rubbish. There's no General at all.
Enter TROFIMOV, ANYA, and VARYA.
GAEV. Here they are.
ANYA. Mother's sitting down here.
LUBOV. [Tenderly] Come, come, my dears. . . . [Em-
bracing ANYA and VARYA] If you two only knew how much
I love you. Sit down next to me, like that. [All sit down.
LOPAKHIN. Our eternal student is always with the ladies.
TROFIMOV. That's not your business.
LOPAKHIN. He'll soon be fifty, and he's still a student.
TROFIMOV. Leave off your silly jokes !
LOPAKHIN. Getting angry, eh, silly ?
TROFIMOV. Shut up, can't you.
LOPAKHIN. [Laughs] I wonder what you think of me ?
TROFIMOV. I think, Ermolai Alexeyevitch, that you're a
rich man, and you'll soon be a millionaire. Just as the
wild beast which eats everything it finds is needed for
changes to take place in matter, so you are needed too.
[All laugh.
VARYA. Better tell us something about the planets, Peter.
LUBOV ANDREYEVNA. No, let's go on with yesterday' stalk!
TROFIMOV. About what ?
ACT ii THE CHERRY ORCHARD 243
GAEV. About the proud man.
TROFIMOV. Yesterday we talked for a long time but we
didn't come to anything in the end. There's something
mystical about the proud man, in your sense. Perhaps
you are right from your point of view, but if you take the
matter simply, without complicating it, then what pride
can there be, what sense can there be in it, if a man is
imperfectly made, physiologically speaking, if in the vast
majority of cases he is coarse and stupid and deeply
unhappy ? We must stop admiring one another. We
must work, nothing more.
GAEV. You'll die, all the same.
TROFIMOV. Who knows ? And what does it mean
you'll die ? Perhaps a man has a hundred senses, and
when he dies only the five known to us are destroyed and
the remaining ninety-five are left alive.
LUBOV. How clever of you, Peter !
LOPAKHIN. [Ironically] Oh, awfully !
TROFIMOV. The human race progresses, perfecting its /
powers. Everything that is unattainable now will some
day be near at hand and comprehensible, but we must work,
we must help with all our strength those who seek to know
what fate will bring. Meanwhile in Russia only a very
few of us work. The vast majority of those intellectuals
whom I know seek for nothing, do nothing, and are at
present incapable of hard work. They call themselves
intellectuals, but they use " thou " and " thee " to their
servants, they treat the peasants, like animals, they learn
badly, they read nothing seriously, they do absolutely
nothing, about science they only talk, about art they
understand little. They are all serious, they all have
severe faces, they all talk about important things. They
philosophize, and at the same time, the vast majority of us,
244 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACT n
ninety-nine out of a hundred, live like savages, fighting and
cursing at the slightest opportunity, eating filthily, sleeping
in the dirt, in stuffiness, with fleas, stinks, smells, moral
filth, and so on. . . . And it's obvious that all our nice talk
is only carried on to distract ourselves and others. Tell
. me, where are those creches we hear so much of ? and where
are those reading-rooms ? People only write novels about
them ; they don't really exist. Only dirt, vulgarity, and
Asiatic plagues really exist. . . . I'm afraid, and I don't
at all like serious faces ; I don't like serious conversations.
Let's be quiet sooner.
LOPAKHIN. You know, I get up at five every morning, I
work from morning till evening, I am always dealing with
money my own and other people's and I see what people
are like. You've only got to begin to do anything to find
out how few honest, honourable people there are. Some-
times, when I can't sleep, I think : " Oh Lord, you've given
us huge forests, infinite fields, and endless horizons, and
we, living here, ought really to be giants."
LUBOV. You want giants, do you ? . . . They're only
good in stories, and even there they frighten one.
EPIKHODOV enters at the back of the stage playing
his guitar. Thoughtfully: Epikhodov's there.
ANYA. [Thoughtfully] Epikhodov's there.
GAEV. The sun's set.
TROFIMOV. Yes.
GAEV. [Not loudly, as if declaiming] Nature, thou art
wonderful, thou shinesfrwith eternal radiance ! Oh, beau-
tiful and indifferent one, thou whom we call mother, thou
containest in thyself existence and death, thou livest and
destroyest. . . .
VARYA, [Entreatingly] Uncle, dear !
ANYA. Uncle, you're doing it again !
.u i ii T H E CHERRY O R C H A R D 245
TROFIMOV. You'd better double the red into the middle.
GAEV. I'll be quiet, I'll be quiet.
They all sit thoughtfully. It is quiet. Only the
mumbling of FIERS is heard. Suddenly a distant
sound is heard as if from the sky, the sound of a
breaking string, which dies away sadly.
LUBOV. What's that ?
LOPAKHIX. I don't know. It may be a bucket fallen
down a well somewhere. But it's some way off.
GAEV. Or perhaps it's some bird . . . like a heron.
TROFIMOV. Or an owl.
LUBOV. [Shudders] It's unpleasant, somehow. [A pause.
FIERS. Before the misfortune the same thing happened.
An owl screamed and the samovar hummed without stop-
ping.
GAEV. Before what misfortune ?
FIERS. Before the Emancipation. [A pause.
LUBOV. You know, my friends, let's go in ; it's evening
now. [To ANYA] You've tears in your eyes. . . . What is
it, little girl ? [Embraces her.
ANYA. It's nothing, mother.
TROFIMOV. Some one's coming.
Enter a TRAMP in an old white peaked cap and over-
coat. He is a little drunk.
TRAMP. Excuse me, may I go this way straight through
to the station ?
GAEV. You may. Go along this path.
TRAMP. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
[Hiccups] Lovely weather. . . . [Declaims] My brother,
my suffering brother. . . . Come out on the Volga, you
whose groans . . . [To VARYA] Mademoiselle, please give
a hungry Russian thirty copecks. . . .
VARYA screams, frightened*
246 T H E CHERRY O R C H A R D ACT n
LOPAKHIN. [Angrily] There's manners everybody's got
to keep !
LUBOV. [With a start] Take this . . . here you are. . . .
[Feels in her purse] There's no silver. ... It doesn't
matter, here's gold.
TRAMP. I am deeply grateful to you ! [Exit. Laughter.
VARYA. [Frightened] I'm going, I'm going. . . . Oh,
little mother, at home there's nothing for the servants to
eat, and you gave him gold.
LUBOV. What is to be done with such a fool as I am !
At home I'll give you everything I've got. Ermolai
Alexeyevitch, lend me some more ! . . .
LOPAKHIN. Very well.
LUBOV. Let's go, it's time. And Varya, we've settled
your affair ; I congratulate you.
VARYA. [Crying] You shouldn't joke about this, mother.
LOPAKHIN. Oh, feel me, get thee to a nunnery.
GAEV. My hands are all trembling ; I haven't played
billiards for a long time.
LOPAKHIN. Oh, feel me, nymph, remember me in thine
orisons.
LUBOV. Come along ; it'll soon be supper-time.
VARYA. He did frighten me. My heart is beating hard.
LOPAKHIN. Let me remind you, ladies and gentlemen,
on August 22 the cherry orchard will be sold. Think of
that ! . . . Think of that ! . . .
All go out except TROFIMOV and ANYA.
ANYA. [Laughs] Thanks to the tramp who frightened
Barbara, we're alone now.
TROFIMOV. Varya's afraid we may fall in love with each
other and won't get away from us for days on end. Her
narrow mind won't allow her to r understand that we are
above love. To escape all the petty and deceptive things
ACT ii THE CHERRY ORCHARD 247
which prevent our being happy and free, that is the aim
and meaning of our lives. Forward ! We go irresistibly on
to that bright star which burns there, in the distance !
Don't lag behind, friends !
ANYA. [Clapping her hands] How beautifully you talk !
[Pause] It is glorious here to-day !
TROFIMOV. Yes, the weather is wonderful.
ANYA. What have you done to me, Peter ? I don't
love the cherry orchard as I used to. I loved it so tenderly,
I thought there was no better place in the world than our
orchard.
TROFIMOV. All Russia is our orchard. The land is great
and beautiful, there are many marvellous places in it.
[Pause] Think, Anya, your grandfather, your great-
grandfather, and all your ancestors were serf-owners, they
owned living souls ; and now, doesn't something human
look at you from every cherry in the orchard, every leaf
and every stalk ? Don't you hear voices . . . ? Oh, it's
awful, your orchard is terrible ; and when in the evening
or at night you walk through the orchard, then the old
bark on the trees sheds a Him light and the old cherry- trees
seem to be dreaming of all that was a hundred, two hundred
years ago, and are oppressed by their heavy visions. Still,
at any rate, we've left those two hundred years behind us.
So far we've gained nothing at all we don't yet know
what the past is to be to us we only philosophize, we
complain that we are dull, or we drink vodka. For it's so
clear that in order to begin to live in the present we must
first redeem the past, and that can only be done by suffering,
by strenuous, uninterrupted labour. Understand that,
Anya.
ANYA. The house in which we live has long ceased to be
our house ; I shall go away. I give you my word.
248 THE CHERRY O R C H A R D ACT n
TROFIMOV. If you have the housekeeping keys, throw
them down the well and go away. Be as free as the wind.
ANY A. [Enthusiastically] How nicely you said that !
TROFIMOV. Believe me, Anya, believe me ! I'm not
thirty yet, I'm young, I'm still a student, but I have under-
gone a great deal ! I'm as hungry as the winter, I'm ill,
I'm shaken. I'm as poor as a beggar, and where haven't
I been fate has tossed me everywhere ! But my soul is
always my own ; every minute of the day and the night
it is filled with unspeakable presentiments. I know that
happiness is coming, Anya, I see it already. . . .
ANYA. [Thoughtful] The moon is rising.
EPIKHODOV is heard playing the same sad song on his
guitar. The moon rises. Somewhere by the poplars
VARYA is looking for ANYA and calling, " Anya,
where are you? "
TROFIMOV. Yes, the moon has risen. [Pause] There is
happiness, there it comes ; it conies nearer and nearer ;
I hear its steps already. And if we do not see it we shall
not know it, but what does that matter ? Others will
see it !
THE VOICE OF VARYA. Anya ! Where are you ?
TROFIMOV. That's Varya again ! [Angry] Disgraceful !
ANYA. Never mind. Let's go to the river. It's nice
there.
TROFIMOV. Let's go. [They go out.
THE VOICE OF VARYA. Anya ! Anya 1
Curtain.
ACT III
A reception-room cut off from a drawing-room by an arch.
Chandelier lighted. A Jewish band, the one mentioned in
Act II, is heard playing in another room. Evening. In
the drawing-room the grand rond is being danced. Voice
of SIMEONOV PISCHIN, " Promenade a une paire ! "
Dancers come into the reception-room ; the first pair are
PISCHIN and CHARLOTTA IVANOVNA ; the second, TRO-
FIMOV and LUBOV ANDRE YE VNA ; the third, ANY A and
the POST OFFICE CLERK ; the fourth, VARYA and the
STATION-MASTER, and so on. VARYA is crying gently,
and wipes away her tears as she dances. DUNYASHA is
in the last pair. They go off into the drawing-room,
PISCHIN shouting, " Grand rond, balancez : " and " Les
cavaliers a genou et remerciez vos dames ! " FIERS, in
a dress-coat, carries a tray with seltzer-water across,^
Enter PISCHIN and TROFIMOV/T-OW the drawing-room.
PISCHIN. I'm full-blooded and have already had two
strokes ; it's hard for me to dance, but, as they say, if you're
in Rome, you must do as Rome does. I've got the strength
of a horse. My dead father, who liked a joke, peace to his
bones, used to say, talking of our ancestors, that the ancient
stock of the Simeonov-Pischins was descended from that
identical horse that Caligula made a senator. . . . [Sits]
But the trouble is, I've no money ! A hungry dog only
believes in meat. [Snores and wakes up again immediately]
So I ... only believe in money. . . .
250THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACTIII
TROFIMOV. Yes. There is something equine about your
figure.
PISCHIN. Well ... a horse is a fine animal . . . you
can sell a horse.
Billiard playing can be heard in the next room. VARY A
appears under the arch.
TROFIMOV. [Teasing] Madame Lopakhin ! Madame Lo-
pakhin !
VARYA. [Angry] Decayed gentleman !
TROFIMOV. Yes, I am a decayed gentleman, and I'm
proud of it !
VARYA. [Bitterly] We've hired the musicians, but how
are they to be paid ? [Exit.
TROFIMOV. If the energy which you, in the course of your
life, have spent in looking for money to pay interest had
been used for something else, then, I believe, after all, you'd
be able to turn everything upside down.
PISCHIN. Nietzsche ... a philosopher ... a very great,
a most celebrated man ... a man of enormous brain, says
in his books that you can forge bank-notes.
TROFIMOV. And have you read Nietzsche ?
PISCHIN. Well . . . Dashenka told me. -Now I'm in
such a position, I wouldn't mind forging them . . . I've
got to pay 310 roubles the day after to-morrow . . . I've
got 130 already. . . . [Feels his pockets, nervously] I've
lost the money ! The money's gone ! [Crying] Where's the
money ? [Joyfully} Here it is behind the lining ... I even
began to perspire.
Enter LUBOV ANDRE YEVNA and CHARLOTTA IVANOVNA.
LUBOV. [Humming a Caucasian dance} Why is Leonid
away so long ? What's he doing in town ? [To DUNYASHA]
Dunyasha, give the musicians some tea.
TROFIMOV. Business is off, I suppose.
ACTinTHE CHERRY ORCHARD 251
LUBOV. And the musicians needn't have come, and we
needn't have got up this ball. . . . Well, never mind. . . .
[Sits and sings softly.
CHARLOTTA. [Gives a pack of cards to PISCHIN] Here's a
pack of cards, think of any one card you like.
PISCHIN. I've thought of one.
CHARLOTTA. Now shuffle. All right, now. Give them
here, oh my dear Mr. Pischin. Ein, zwei, drei ! Now look
and you'll find it in your coat-tail pocket.
PISCHIN. [Takes a card out of his coat-tail pocJcet] Eight of
spades, quite right ! [Surprised] Think of that now !
CHARLOTTA. [Holds the pack of cards on the palm of her
hand. To TROFIMOV] Now tell me quickly. What's the
top card ?
TROFIMOV. Well, the queen of spades.
CHARLOTTA. Right ! [To PISCHIN] Well now ? What
card's on top ?
PISCHIN. Ace of hearts.
CHARLOTTA. Right ! [Claps her hands, the pack of cards
vanishes] How lovely the weather is to-day. [A mysterious
woman's voice answers her, as if from under the floor, " Oh yes,
it's lovely weather, madam."] You are so beautiful, you are
my ideal. [Voice, " You, madam, please me very much too."]
STATION-MASTER. [Applauds] Madame ventriloquist,
bravo !
PISCHIN. [Surprised] Think of that, now ! Delightful,
Charlotta Ivanovna . . . I'm simply in love. . . .
CHARLOTTA. In love ? [Shrugging her shoulders] Can you
love ? Outer Mensch aber schlechter Musikant.
TROFIMOV. [Slaps PISCHIN on the shoulder] Oh, you
horse !
CHARLOTTA. Attention please, here's another trick.
[Takes a'jshawlfrom a chair] Here's a very nice plaid shawl,
252 THE CHERRY O R C H A R D ACTIII
I'm going to sell it. . . . [Shakes it] Won't anybody buy it ?
PISCHIN. [Astonished] Think of that now !
CHARLOTTA. Ein, zwei, drei.
She quickly lifts up the shawl, which is hanging down.
ANYA is standing behind it ; she lows and runs
to her mother, hugs her and runs lack to the drawing-
room amid general applause.
LUBOV. [Applauds] Bravo, bravo !
CHARLOTTA. Once again ! Ein, zwei, drei !
[Lifts the shawl. VARYA stands behind it and bows.
PISCHIN. [Astonished] Think of that, now.
CHARLOTTA. The end !
Throws the shawl at PISCHIN, curtseys and runs into
the drawing-room.
PISCHIN. [Runs after her] Little wretch. . . . What ?
Would you ? [Exit.
LUBOV. Leonid hasn't come yet. I don't understand
what he's doing so long in town ! Everything must be over
by now. The estate must be sold ; or, if the sale never
came off, then why does he stay away so long ?
VARYA. [Tries to soothe her] Uncle has bought it. I'm
certain of it.
TROFIMOV. [Sarcastically] Oh, yes !
VARYA. Grandmother sent him her authority for him
to buy it in her name and transfer the debt to her. She's
doing it for Anya. And I'm certain that God will help us
and uncle will buy it.
LUBOV. Grandmother sent fifteen thousand roubles from
Yaroslav to buy the property in her name she won't trust
us and that wasn't even enough to pay the interest.
[Covers her face with her hands] My fate will be settled
to-day, my fate. . . .
TROFIMOV. [Teasing VARYA] Madame Lopakhin !
ACTinTHE CHERRY ORCHARD 253
VARYA. [Angry] Eternal student ! He's already been
expelled twice from the university.
LUBOV. Why are you getting angry, Vary a ? He's
teasing you about Lopakhin, well what of it ? You can
marry Lopakhin if you want to, he's a good, interesting
man. . . . You needn't if you don't want to ; nobody
wants to force you against your will, my darling.
VARY A. I do look at the matter seriously, little
mother, to be quite frank. He's a good man, and I like
him.
LUBOV. Then marry him. I don't understand what
you're waiting for.
VARYA. I can't propose to him myself, little mother.
People have been talking about him to me for two years
now, but he either says nothing, or jokes about it. I
understand. He's getting rich, he's busy, he can't bother
about me. If I had some money, even a little, even only a
hundred roubles, I'd throw up everything and go away.
I'd go into a convent.
TROFIMOV. How nice !
VARYA. [To TROFIMOV] A student ought to have sense !
[Gently, in tears] How ugly you are now, Peter, how old
you've grown ! [To LUBOV ANDREYEVNA, no longer crying]
But I can't go on without working, little mother. I want
to be doing something every minute. [Enter YASHA.
YASHA. [Nearly laughing] Epikhodov's broken a billiard
cue ! [Exit.
VARYA. Why is Epikhodov here ? Who said he could
play billiards ? I don't understand these people. [Exit.
LUBOV. Don't tease her, Peter, you see that she's quite
unhappy without that.
TROFIMOV. She takes too much on herself, she keeps on
interfering in other people's business. The whole summer
254 THE CHERRY O R C H A RD ACTIII
she's given no peace to me or to Anya, she's afraid we'll have
a romance all to ourselves. What has it to do with her ?
As if I'd ever given her grounds to believe I'd stoop to such
vulgarity ! We are above love.
LUBOV. Then I suppose I must be beneath love. [In
agitation] Why isn't Leonid here ? If I only knew whether
the estate is sold or not ! The disaster seems to me so im-
probable that I don't know what to think, I'm all at sea ...
I may scream . or do something silly. Save me, Peter.
Say something, say something.
TROFIMOV. Isn't it all the same whether the estate is sold
to-day or isn't ? It's been all up with it for a long time ;
there's no turning back, the path's grown over. Be calm,
dear, you shouldn't deceive yourself ; for once in your life
at any rate you must look the truth straight in the face.
LUBOV. What truth ? You see where truth is, and where
untruth is, but I seem to have lost my sight and see nothing.
You boldly settle all important questions, but tell me, dear,
isn't it because you're young, because you haven't had time
to suffer till you settled a single one of your questions ?
You boldly look forward, isn't it because you cannot foresee
or expect anything terrible, because so far life has been
hidden from your young eyes 1 You are bolder, more
honest, deeper than we are, but think only, be just a little
magnanimous, and have mercy on me. I was born here, my
father and mother lived here, my grandfather too, I love this
house. I couldn't understand my life without that cherry
orchard, and if it really must be sold, sell me with it !
[Embraces TROFIMOV, kisses his forehead]. My son was
drowned here. . . . [Tfeeps] Have pity on me, good, kind
man.
TROFIMOV. You know I sympathize with all my soul.
LUBOV. Yes, but it ought to be said differently, differ-
ACT in THE CHERRY O R C H A R D 255
ently. . . . [Takes another handkerchief, a telegram falls on
the floor] I'm so sick at heart to-day, you can't imagine.
Here it's so noisy, my soul shakes at every sound. I shake
all over, and I can't go away by myself, I'm afraid of the
silence. Don't judge me harshly, Peter ... I love you,
as if you belonged to my family. I'd gladly let Anya marry
you, I swear it, only dear, you ought to work, finish your
studies. You don't do anything, only fate throws you
about from place to place, it's so odd. . . . Isn't it true ?
Yes ? And you ought to do something to your beard to
make it grow better. [Laughs] You are funny !
TROFIMOV. [Picking up telegram] I don't want to be a
Beau Brummel.
LUBOV. This telegram's from Paris. I get one every day.
Yesterday and to-day. That wild man is ill again, he's bad
again. ... He begs for forgiveness, and implores me to
come, and I really ought to go to Paris to be near him. You
look severe, Peter, but what can I do, my dear, what can I
do ; he's ill, he's alone, unhappy, and who's to look after
him, who's to keep him away from his errors, to give him
his medicine punctually ? And why should I conceal it and
say nothing about it ; I love him, that's plain, I love him, I
love him. . . . That love is a stone round my neck ; I'm
going with it to the bottom, but I love that stone and can't
live without it. [Squeezes TEOFIMOV'S hand] Don't think
hardly of me, Peter, don't say anything to me, don't
say . . .
TROFIMOV. [Weeping] For God's sake forgive my speak-
ing candidly, but that man has robbed you !
LUBOV. No, no, no, you oughtn't to say that !
[Stops her ears.
TROFIMOV. But he's a wretch, you alone don't know it !
He's a petty thief, a nobody. . . .
256 T H E CHERRY O R C H A R D ACT in
LUBOV. [Angry, but restrained] You're twenty-six or
twenty-seven, and still a schoolboy of the second class !
TROFIMOV. Why not !
LUBOV. You ought to be a man, at your age you ought to
be able to understand those who love. And you ought to
be in love yourself, you must fall in love ! [Angry] Yes,
yes ! You aren't pure, you're just a freak, a queer fellow,
a funny growth . . .
TROFIMOV. [In horror] What is she saying !
LUBOV. " I'm above love ! " You're not above love,
you're just what our Fiers calls a bungler. Not to have a
mistress at your age !
TROFIMOV. [In horror] This is awful ! What is she
saying ? [Goes quickly up into the drawing-room, clutching
his head] It's awful ... I can't stand it, I'll go away.
[Exit, but returns at once] All is over between us ! [Exit.
LUBOV. [Shouts after him] Peter, wait ! Silly man, I was
joking ! Peter ! [Somebody is heard going out and falling
downstairs noisily. ANY A and VARY A scream ; laughter is
heard immediately] What's that ?
ANY A comes running in, laughing.
ANYA. Peter's fallen downstairs ! [Runs out again.
LUBOV. This Peter's a marvel.
The STATION-MASTER stands in the middle of the
drawing-room and recites " The Magdalen " by
Tolstoy. He is listened to, but he has only de-
livered a few lines when a waltz is heard from
the front room, and the recitation is stopped. Every-
body dances. TROFIMOV, ANYA, VARYA, and
LUBOV ANDRE YEVNA come in from the front room.
LUBOV. Well, Peter . . . you pure soul ... I beg your
pardon . . . let's dance.
She dances with PETER. ANYA and VARYA dance.
in THE CHERRY ORCHARD '257
FIERS eiders and stands his slick by a side doui .
YASHA has also come in and looks on at the dance.
YASHA. Well, grandfather ?
FIERS. I'm not well. At our balls some time back,
generals and barons and admirals used to dance, and now
we send for post-office clerks and the Station-master, and
even they come as a favour. I'm very weak. The dead
master, the grandfather, used to give everybody sealing-wax
when anything was wrong. I've taken sealing-wax every
day for twenty years, and more ; perhaps that's why I still
live.
YASHA. I'm tired of you, grandfather. [Yawns] If you'd
only hurry up and kick the bucket.
FIERS. Oh you . . . bungler ! [Mutters.
TROFIMOV and LUBOV ANDREYEVNA dance in the
reception-room, then into the sitting-room.
LUBOV. Mer$i. I'll sit down. [Sits] I'm tired.
Enter ANYA.
ANYA. [Excited] Somebody in the kitchen was saying
just now that the cherry orchard was sold to-day.
LUBOV. Sold to whom.
ANYA. He didn't say to whom. He's gone mad.
[Dances out into the reception-room with TROFIMOV.
YASHA. Some old man was chattering about it a long
time ago. A stranger !
FIERS. And Leonid Andreyevitch isn't here yet, he hasn't
come. He's wearing a light, demi-saison overcoat. He'll
catch cold. Oh these young fellows.
LUBOV. I'll die of this. Go and find out, Yasha, to whom
it's sold.
YASHA. Oh, but he's been gone a long time, the old
man. [L<tu<jlis.
R
258 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACTIII
LUBOV. [Slightly vexed] Why do you laugh ? What are
you glad about ?
YASHA. Epikhodov's too funny. He's a silly man.
Two-and- twenty troubles.
LUBOV. Fiers, if the estate is sold, where will you go ?
FIERS. I'll go wherever you order me to go.
LUBOV. Why do you look like that ? Are you ill ? I
think you ought to go to bed. . . .
FIERS. Yes . . . [With a smile] I'll go to bed, and who'll
hand things round and give orders without me ? I've
the whole house on my shoulders.
YASHA. [To LUBOV ANDREYEVNA] Lubov Andreyevna!
I want to ask a favour of you, if you'll be so kind ! If you
go to Paris again, then please take me with you. It's
absolutely impossible for me to stop here. [Looking round ;
in an undertone] What's the good of talking about it, you
see for yourself that this is an uneducated country, with an
immoral population, and it's so dull. The food in the
kitchen is beastly, and here's this Fiers walking about
mumbling various inappropriate things. Take me with
you, be so kind !
Enter PISCHIN.
PISCHIN. I come to ask for the pleasure of a little waltz,
dear lady. . . . [Lusov ANDREYEVNA goes to him] But all
the same, you wonderful woman, I must have 180 little
roubles from you. ... I must. . . . [They dance] 180
little roubles. . . . [They go through into the drawing-room.
YASHA. [Sings softly]
" Oh, will you understand
My soul's deep restlessness ? "
In the drawing-room a figure in a grey top-hat and
in baggy check trousers is waving its hands and
ill THE CHERRY ORCHARD 259
jumping about ; there are cries of " Bravo, Charlotta
Ivanovna ! "
DUNYASHA. [Stops to powder her face] The young mistress
tells me to dance there are a lot of gentlemen, but few
ladies and my head goes round when I dance, and my
heart beats, Fiers Nicolaevitch ; the Post-office clerk told
me something just now which made me catch my breath.
[The music grows faint.
FIERS. What did he say to you ?
DUNYASHA. He says, " You're like a little flower."
YASHA. [Yawns] Impolite. . . . [Exit.
DUNYASHA. Like a little flower. I'm such a delicate
girl ; I simply love words of tenderness.
FIERS. You'll lose your head.
Enter EPIKHODOV.
EPIKHODOV. You, Avdotya Fedorovna, want to see me
no more than if I was some insect. [Sighs] Oh, life !
DUNYASHA. What do you want ?
EPIKHODOV. Undoubtedly, perhaps, you may be right.
[Sighs] But, certainly, if you regard the matter from the
aspect, then you, if I may say so, and you must excuse my
candidness, have absolutely reduced me to a state of mind.
I know my fate, every day something unfortunate happens to
me, and I've grown used to it a long time ago, I even look
at my fate with a smile. You gave me your word, and
though I ...
DUNYASHA. Please, we'll talk later on, but leave me
alone now. I'm meditating now. [Plays with her fan.
EPIKHODOV. Every day something unfortunate happens
to me, and I, if I may so express myself, only smile, and
even laugh.
VARYA enters from the drawing-room.
VARYA. Haven't you gone yet, Simeon ? You really
260 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACT m
have no respect for anybody. [To DUNYASHA] You go
away, Dunyasha. [To EPIKHODOV] You play billiards and
break a cue, and walk about the drawing-room as if you
were a visitor !
EPIKHODOV. You cannot, if I may say so, call me to
order.
VARYA. I'm not calling you to order, I'm only telling
you. You just walk about from place to place and
never do your work. Goodness only knows why we keep
a clerk.
EPIKHODOV. [Offended] Whether I work, or walk about,
or eat, or play billiards, is only a matter to be settled by
people of understanding and my elders.
VARYA. You dare to talk to me like that ! [Furious]
You dare ? You mean that I know nothing ? Get out of
this ! This mimite !
EPIKHODOV. [Nervous] I must ask you to express your-
self more delicately.
VARYA. [Beside herself] Get out this minute. Get out !
[He goes to the door, she follows] Two-and- twenty troubles !
I don't want any sign of you here ! I don't want to
see anything of you ! [EPIKHODOV has gone out ; his
voice can be heard outside : " I'll make a complaint against
you"] What, coming back ? [Snatches up the stick left
by FIERS by the door] Go ... go ... go, I'll show
you. . . . Are you going ? Are you going ? Well, then
take that. [She hits out as LOPAKHIN enters.
LOPAKHIN. Much obliged.
VARYA. [Angry but amused] I'm sorry.
LOPAKHIN. Never mind. I thank you for my pleasant
reception.
VARYA. It isn't worth any thanks. [Walks away, then
looks back and asks gently] I didn't hurt you, did I ?
ACT in THE CHERRY ORCHARD 261
LOPAKHIN. No, not at all. There'll be an enormous
bump, that's all.
VOICES FROM THE DRAWING-ROOM. Lopakhin's returned !
Ermolai Alexeyevitch !
PISCHIN. Now we'll see what there is to see and hear
what there is to hear. . . . [Kisses LOPAKHIN] You smell
of cognac, my dear, my soul. And we're all having a good
time.
Enter LUBOV ANDREYEVNA.
LUBOV. Is that you, Ermolai Alexeyevitch ? Why were
you so long ? Where's Leonid ?
LOPAKHIN. Leonid Andreyevitch came back with me,
he's coming. . . .
LUBOV. [Excited] Well, what ? Is it sold ? Tell me ?
LOPAKHIN. [Confused, afraid to shoiv his pleasure] The
sale ended up at four o'clock. . . . We missed the train,
and had to wait till half-past nine. [Sighs heavily] Ooh !
My head's going round a little.
Enter GAEV ; in his right hand he carries things he
has bought, ivith his left he wipes away his tears.
LUBOV. Leon, what's happened ? Leon, well ? [Im-
patiently, in tears] Quick, for the love of God. . . .
GAEV. [Says nothing to her, only waves his hand ; to
FIERS, weeping] Here, take this. . . . Here are anchovies,
herrings from Kertch. . . . I've had no food to-day. . . .
I have had a time ! [The door from the billiard-room is open ;
the clicking of the balls is heard, and YASHA'S voice, " Seven,
eighteen ! " GAEV'S expression changes, he cries no more]
I'm awfully tired. Let me change my clothes, Fiers.
Goes out through the drawing-room ; FIERS after
him.
PISCHIN. What happened ? Come on, tell us !
LUBOV. Is the cherry orchard sold ?
262 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACT m
LOPAKHIN. It is sold.
LUBOV. Who bought it ?
LOPAKHIN. I bought it.
LUBOV ANDREYEVNA is overwhelmed ; she would fall
if she were not standing "by an armchair and a
table. VARY A takes her keys off her belt, throws
them on the floor, into the middle of the room and
goes out.
LOPAKHIN. I bought it ! Wait, ladies and gentlemen,
please, my head's going round, I can't talk. . . . [Laugh]
When we got to the sale, Deriganov was there already.
Leonid Andreyevitch had only fifteen thousand roubles, and
Deriganov offered thirty thousand on top of the mortgage
to begin with. I saw how matters were, so I grabbed hold
of him and bid forty. He went up to forty-five, I offered
fifty-five. That means he went up by fives and I went up
by tens. . . . Well, it came to an end. I bid ninety more
than the mortgage ; and it stayed with me. The cherry
orchard is mine now, mine ! [Roars with laughter] My God,
my God, the cherry orchard's mine ! Tell me I'm drunk,
or mad, or dreaming. . . . [Stamps his feet] Don't laugh
at me ! If my father and grandfather rose from their
graves and looked at the whole affair, and saw how their
Ermolai, their beaten and uneducated Ermolai, who used
to run barefoot in the winter, how that very Ermolai has
bought an estate, which is the most beautiful thing in the
world ! I've bought the estate where my grandfather and
my father were slaves, where they weren't even allowed into
the kitchen. I'm asleep, it's only a dream, an illusion. . . .
It's the fruit of imagination, wrapped in the fog of the un-
known. . . . [Picks up the keys, nicely smiling] She threw
down the keys, she wanted to show she was no longer
ACTIII THE CHERRY ORCHARD 263
mistress here. . . . [Jingles keys\ Well, it's all one !
[Hears the band tuning up~\ Eh, musicians, play, I want to
hear you ! Come and look at Ermolai Lopakhin laying his
axe to the cherry orchard, come and look at the trees falling !
We'll build villas here, and our grandsons and great-
grandsons will see a new life here. . . . Play on, music !
[The band plays. LUBOV ANDRE YEVNA sinks into a chair
and weeps bitterly. LOPAKHIN continues reproachfully]
Why then, why didn't you take my advice ? My poor, dear
woman, you can't go back now. [Weeps] Oh, if only the
whole thing was done wfth, if only our uneven, unhappy
life were changed !
PISCHIN. [Takes his arm ; in an undertone] She's crying.
Let's go into the drawing-room and leave her by herself . . .
come on. ... [Takes his arm and leads him out.
LOPAKHIN. What's that ? Bandsmen, play nicely ! Go
on, do just as I want you to ! [Ironically] The new owner,
the owner of the cherry orchard is coming ! [He accidentally
knocks up against a little table and nearly upsets the candelabra]
I can pay for everything now ! [Exit with PISCHIN.
In the reception-room and the drawing-room nobody re-
mains except LUBOV ANDREYEVNA, who sits huddled
up and weeping bitterly. The band plays softly.
ANYA and TROFIMOV come in quickly. ANYA goes
up to her mother and goes on her knees in front of
her. TROFIMOV stands at the dramng-room en-
trance.
ANYA. Mother ! mother, are you crying ? My dear,
kind, good mother, my beautiful mother, I love you !
Bless you ! The cherry orchard is sold, we've got it no
longer, it's truo, true, but don't cry mother, you've still got
your life before you, you've still your beautiful pure soul. . . .
264 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACT ra
Come with me, come, dear, away from here, come ! We'll
plant a new garden, finer than this, and you'll see it, and
you'll understand, and deep joy, gentle joy will sink into
your soul, like the evening sun, and you'll smile, mother !
Come, dear, let's go !
Curtain .
ACT IV
The stage is set as for Act I. There are no curtains on the
windows, no pictures ; only a few pieces of furniture are
left ; they are piled up in a corner as if for sale. The
emptiness is felt. By the door that leads out of the house
and at the back of the stage, portmanteaux and travelling
paraphernalia are piled up. The door on the left is open ;
the voices of VARYA and ANYA-'caw be heard through it.
LOPAKHIN stands and waits. YASHA holds a tray with
little tumblers of champagne. Outside, EPIKHODOV is
tying up a box. Voices are heard behind the stage. The
peasants have come to say good-bye. The voice of GAEV
is heard : " Thank you, brothers, thank you."
YASHA. The common people have come to say good-bye.
I am of the opinion, Ermolai Alexeyevitch, that they're
good people, but they don't understand very much.
The voices die away. LUBOV ANDREYEVNA and GAEV
enter. She is not crying but is pale, and her face
trembles ; she can hardly speak.
GAEV. You gave them your purse, Luba. You can't go
on like that, you can't !
LUBOV. I couldn't help myself, I couldn't ! [They go out.
LOPAKHIN. [In the doorway, looking after them] Please,
I ask you most humbly ! Just a little glass to say good-
bye. I didn't remember to bring any from town and I
only found one bottle at the station. Please, do ! [Pause]
Won't you really have any ? [Goes away from the door] If I
265
266 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACTIV
only knew I wouldn't have bought any. Well, I shan't
drink any either. [YASHA carefully 'puts the tray on a chair}
You have a drink, Yasha, at any rate.
YASHA. To those departing ! And good luck to those
who stay behind ! [Drinks'] I can assure you that this isn't
real champagne.
LOPAKHIN. Eight roubles a bottle. [Pause] It's devilish
cold here.
YASHA. There are no fires to-day, we're going away.
[Laughs.
LOPAKHIN. What's the matter with you ?
YASHA. I'm just pleased.
LOPAKHIN. It's October outside, but it's as sunny and
as quiet as if it were summer. Good for building. [Looking
at his watch and speaking through the door] Ladies and
gentlemen, please remember that it's only forty-seven
minutes till the train goes ! You must go off to the station
in twenty minutes. Hurry up.
TROFIMOV, in an overcoat, comes in from the grounds.
TROFIMOV. I think it's time we went. The carriages
are waiting. Where the devil are my goloshes ? They're
lost. [Through the door] Any a, I can't find my goloshes !
I can't !
LOPAKHIN. I've got to go to Kharkov. I'm going in the
same train as you. I'm going to spend the whole winter
in Kharkov. I've been hanging about with you people,
going rusty without work. I can't live without working.
I must have something to do with my hands ; they hang
about as if they weren't mine at all.
TROFIMOV. We'll go away now and then you'll start
again on your useful labours.
LOPAKHIN. Have a glass.
TROFIMOV. I won't.
ACT iv THE CHERRY ORCHARD 267
LOPAKHIN. So you're off to Moscow now ?
TROFIMOV. Yes. I'll see them into town and to-morrow
I'm off to Moscow.
LOPAKHIN. Yes. ... I expect the professors don't
lecture nowadays ; they're waiting till you turn up !
TROFIMOV. That's not your business.
LOPAKHIN. How many years have you been going to the
university ?
TROFIMOV. Think of something fresh. This is old and
flat. [Looking for his goloshes] You know, we may not meet
each other again, so just let me give you a word of advice
on parting : " Don't wave your hands about ! Get rid of
that habit of waving them about. And then, building
villas and reckoning on their residents becoming freeholders
in time that's the same thing ; it's all a matter of waving
your hands about. . . . Whether I want to or not, you
know, I like you. You've thin, delicate fingers, like those
of an artist, and you've a thin, delicate soul. ..."
LOPAKHIN. [Embraces him] Good-bye, dear fellow. Thanks
for all you've said. If you want any, take some money
from me for the journey.
TROFIMOV. Why should I ? I don't want it.
LOPAKHIN. But you've nothing !
TROFIMOV. Yes, I have, thank you ; I've got some for
a translation. Here it is in my pocket. [Nervously] But
I can't find my goloshes !
VARYA. [From the other room] Take your rubbish away !
[Throws a pair of rubber goloshes on to the stage.
TROFIMOV. Why are you angry, Varya ? Hm ! These
aren't my goloshes!
LOPAKHIN. In the spring I sowed three thousand a
<>f poppies, and now I've made forty thousand roubles
net profit. And when my poppies were in flower, what a
268 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACT iv
picture it was ! So I, as I was saying, made forty thousand
roubles, and I mean I'd like to lend you some, because I
can afford it. Why turn up your nose at it ? I'm just a
simple peasant. . . .
TEOFIMOV. Your father was a peasant, mine was a
chemist, and that means absolutely nothing. [LOPAKHIN
takes out his pocket-book] No, no. . . . Even if you gave me
twenty thousand I should refuse. I'm a free man. And
everything that all you people, rich and poor, value so
highly and so dearly hasn't the least influence over me ;
it's like a flock of down in the wind. I can do without you,
I can pass you by. I'm strong and proud. Mankind goes
on to the highest truths and to the highest happiness
such as is only possible on earth, and I go in the front
ranks !
LOPAKHIN. Will you get there ?
TEOFIMOV. I will. [Pause] I'll get there and show others
the way. [Axes cutting the trees are heard in the distance.
LOPAKHIN. Well, good-bye, old man. It's time to go.
Here we stand pulling one another's noses, but life goes
its own way all the time. When I work for a long time,
and I don't get tired, then I think more easily, and I think
I get to understand why I exist. And there are so many
people in Russia, brother, who live for nothing at all.
Still, work goes on without that. Leonid Andreyevitch,
they say, has accepted a post in a bank ; he will get sixty
thousand roubles a year. . . . But he won't stand it ;
he's very lazy.
ANYA. [At the door] Mother asks if you will stop them
cutting down the orchard until she has gone away.
TROFIMOV. Yes, really, you ought to have enough tact
not to do that. [Exit.
LOPAKHIN. All right, all right . . . yes, he's right. [Exit.
ACT iv THE CHERRY ORCHARD
ANYA. Has Fiers been sent to the hospital ?
YASHA. I gave the order this morning. I suppose they've
sent him.
ANYA. [To EPIKHODOV, who crosses the room] Simeon
L'anteleyevitch, please make inquiries if Fiers has been
sent to the hospital.
YASHA. [Offended] I told Egor this morning. What's
the use of asking ten times !
EPIKHODOV. The aged Fiers, in my conclusive opinion,
isn't worth mending ; his forefathers had better have him.
I only envy him. [Puts a trunk on a hat-box and squashes
it] Well, of course. I thought so ! [Exit.
YASHA. [Grinning] Two-and-twenty troubles.
VARYA. [Behind the door] Has Fiers been taken away
to the hospital ?
ANYA. Yes.
VARYA. Why didn't they take the letter to the doctor ?
ANYA. It'll have to be sent after him. [Exit.
VARYA. [In the next room] Where's Yasha ? Tell him
his mother's come and wants to say good-bye to him.
YASHA. [Waving his hand] She'll make me lose all
patience !
DUNYASHA has meanwhile been bustling round the
luggage ; now that YASHA is left alone, she goes
up to him.
DUNYASHA. If you only looked at me once, Yasha.
You're going away, leaving me behind. . . .
[Weeps and hugs him round the neck.
YASHA. What's the use of crying ? [Drinks champagne]
In six days I'll be again in Paris. To-morrow we get into
the express and off we go. I can hardly believe it. Vive
la France ! It doesn't suit me here, I can't live here . . .
it's no good. Well, I've seen the uncivilized world ; 1
270 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACTIV
have had enough of it. [Drinks champagne] What do you
want to cry for ? You behave yourself properly, and then
you won't cry.
DUNYASHA. Somebody's coming.
He bustles around the luggage, singing softly. Enter
LUBOV ANDREYEVNA, GAEV, ANYA, and CHARLOTTA
IVANOVNA.
GAEV. We'd better be off. There's no time left. [Looks
at YASHA] Somebody smells of herring !
LUBOV. We needn't get into our carriages for ten minutes.
. . . [Looks round the room] Good-bye, dear house, old
grandfather. The winter will go, the spring will come, and
then you'll exist no more, you'll be pulled down. How
much these walls have seen ! [Passionately kisses her
daughter] My treasure, you're radiant, your eyes flash like
two jewels ! Are you happy ? Very ?
ANYA. Very ! A new life is beginning, mother !
GAEV. [Gaily] Yes, really, everything's all right now.
Before the cherry orchard was sold we all were excited and
we suffered, and then, when the question was solved once
and for all, we all calmed down, and even became cheerful.
I'm a bank official now, and a financier . . . red in the
middle ; and you, Luba, for some reason or other, look
better, there's no doubt about it.
LUBOV. Yes. My nerves are better, it's true. [She puts
on her coat and hat] I sleep well. Take my luggage out,
Yasha. It's time. [To ANYA] My little girl, we'll soon see
each other again. . . . I'm off to Paris. I'll live there
on the money your grandmother from Yaroslav sent along
to buy the estate bless her ! though it won't last long.
ANYA. You'll come back soon, soon, mother, won't you ?
I'll get ready, and pass the exam, at the Higher School, and
then I'll work and help you. We'll read all sorts of books
ACT iv TIIK ( HKKHY ORCHARD i'?l
to one another, won't we ? [Kisses her mother's hands]
We'll read in the autumn evenings ; we'll read many books,
and a beautiful new world will open up before us. ...
[Thoughtfully] You'll come, mother. . . .
LUBOV. I'll come, my darling. [Embraces her.
Enter LOPAKHIN. CHARLOTTA is singing to herself.
GAEV. Charlotta is happy ; she sings !
CHARLOTTA. [Takes a bundle, looking like a wrapped-up
baby} My little baby, bye-bye. [The baby seems to answer,
" Qua, oua ! "] Hush, my nice little boy. [" Qua ! Qua ! "]
I'm so sorry for you ! [Throws the bundle back} So please
find me a new place. I can't go on like this.
LOPAKHIN. We'll find one, Charlotta Ivanovna, don't
you be afraid.
GAEV. Everybody's leaving us. Varya's going away. . .
we've suddenly become unnecessary.
CHARLOTTA. I've nowhere to live in town. I must go
away. [Hums] Never mind.
Enter PISCHIN.
LOPAKHIN. Nature's marvel !
PISCHIN. [Puffing} Oh, let me get my breath back. . . .
I'm fagged out. . . . My most honoured, give me some
water. . . .
GAEV. Come for money, what ? I'm your humble ser-
vant, and I'm going out of the way of temptation. [Exit.
PISCHIN. I haven't been here for ever so long . . . dear
madam. [To LOPAKHIN] You here ? Glad to see you . . .
man of immense brain . . . take this . . . take it. ...
[Gives LOPAKHIN money] Four hundred roubles. . . .
That leaves 840. . . .
LOPAKHIN. [Shrugs his shoulders in surprise] As if I
\\vre dreaming. Where did you get this from ?
PISCHIN. Stop . . . it's hot. ... A most unexpected
272 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACT iv
thing happened. Some Englishmen came along and found
some white clay on my land. . . . [To LUBOV ANDREYEVNA]
And here's four hundred for you . . . beautiful lady. . . .
[Gives her money] Give you the rest later. . . . [Drinks
water] Just now a young man in the train was saying that
some great philosopher advises us all to jump off roofs.
" Jump ! " he says, and that's all. [Astonished] To think
of that, now ! More water !
LOPAKHIN. Who were these Englishmen ?
PISCHIN. I've leased off the land with the clay to them
for twenty-four years. . . . Now, excuse me, I've no time.
... I must run off. ... I must go to Znoikov and to
Kardamonov ... I owe them all money. . . . [Drinks]
Good-bye. I'll come in on Thursday.
LUBOV. We're just off to town, and to-morrow I go
abroad.
PISCHIN. [Agitated] What ? Why to town ? I see fur-
niture . . . trunks. . . . Well, never mind. [Crying] Never
mind. These Englishmen are men of immense intellect. . . .
Never mind. ... Be happy. . . . God will help you. . . .
Never mind. . . . Everything in this world comes to an
end. . . . [Kisses LUBOV ANDREYEVNA'S hand] And if you
should happen to hear that my end has come, just remember
this old ... horse and say : " There was one such and
such a Simeonov-Pischin, God bless his soul. ..." Won-
derful weather . . . yes. . . . [Exit deeply moved, but
returns at once and says in the door] Dashenka sent her
love ! [Exit.
LUBOV. Now we can go. I've two anxieties, though.
The first is poor Fiers. [Looks at her watch] We've still five
minutes. . . .
ANYA. Mother, Fiers has already been sent to the
hospital. Yasha sent him off this morning.
ACT iv THE CHERRY ORCHARD 273
LUBOV. The second is Varya. She's used to getting up
early and to work, and now she's no work to do she's like
a fish out of water. She's grown thin and pale, and she
cries, poor thing. . . . [Pause] You know very well,
Ermolai Alexeyevitch, that I used to hope to marry her to
you, and I suppose you are going to marry somebody ?
[Whispers to ANYA, who nods to CHARLOTTA, and they both
go out] She loves you, she's your sort, and I don't under-
stand, I really don't, why you seem to be keeping away
from each other. I don't understand !
LOPAKHIN. To tell the truth, I don't understand it
myself. It's all so strange. ... If there's still time, I'll
be ready at once. . . . Let's get it over, once and for all ;
I don't feel as if I could ever propose to her without
you.
LUBOV. Excellent. It'll only take a minute. I'll call
her.
LOPAKHIN. The champagne's very appropriate. [Looking
at the tumblers] They're empty, somebody's already drunk
them. [YASHA coughs] I call that licking it up. ...
LUBOV. [Ani noted] Excellent. We'll go out. Yasha,
allez. I'll call her in. ... [At the door] Varya, leave that
and come here. Come ! [Exit with YASHA.
LOPAKHIN. [Looks at his watch] Yes. . . . [Pause.
There is a restrained laugh behind the door, a whisper,
then VARYA comes in.
VARYA. [Looking at the luggage in silence} I can't seem to
find it. . . .
LOPAKHIN. What are you looking for ?
VARYA. I packed it myself and I don't remember. [Pause.
LOPAKHIN. Where are you going to now, Barbara
Mihailovna ?
VARYA. I ? To the Ragulins. . . . I've got an agree-
274 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACT iv
ment to go and look after their house ... as housekeeper
or something.
LOPAKHIN. Is that at Yashnevo ? It's about fifty miles.
[Pause] So life in this house is finished now. . . .
VARYA. [Looking at the luggage] Where is it ? ...
perhaps I've put it away in the trunk. . . . Yes, there'll
be no more life in this house. . . .
LOPAKHIN. And I'm off to Kharkov at once ... by
this train. I've a lot of business on hand. I'm leaving
Epikhodov here . . . I've taken him on.
VARYA. Well, well !
LOPAKHIN. Last year at this time the snow was
already falling, if you remember, and now it's nice and
sunny. Only it's rather cold. . . . There's three degrees
of frost.
VARYA. I didn't look. [Pause] And our thermometer's
broken. . . . [Pause.
VOICE AT THE DOOR. Ermolai Alexeyevitch !
LOPAKHIN. [As if he has long been waiting to be called]
This minute. [Exit quickly.
VARYA, sitting on the floor, puts her face on a bundle
of clothes and weeps gently. The door opens.
LUBOV ANDRE YEVNA enters carefully.
LUBOV. Well ? [Pause] We must go.
VARYA. [Not crying now, wipes her eyes] Yes, it's quite
time, little mother. I'll get to the Ragulins to-day, if I
don't miss the train. . . .
LUBOV. [At the door] Anya, put on your things. [Enter
ANYA, then GA.EV, CHARLOTTA IVANOVNA. GAEV wears a
warm overcoat with a cape. A servant and drivers come in.
EPIKHODOV bustles around the luggage} Now we can go
away.
ANYA. [Joyfully} Away !
ACT iv THE CHERRY ORCHARD 275
GAEV. My friends, my dear friends ! Can I be silent,
in leaving this house for evermore ? can I restrain myself,
in saying farewell, from expressing those feelings which
now fill my whole being . . . ?
ANYA. [Imploringly] Uncle !
VARYA. Uncle, you shouldn't !
GAEV. [Stupidly] Double the red into the middle. . . .
I'll be quiet.
Enter TROFIMOV, then LOPAKHIN.
TROFIMOV. Well, it's time to be off.
LOPAKHIN. Epikhodov, my coat !
LUBOV. I'll sit here one more minute. It's as if I'd
never really noticed what the walls and ceilings of this
house were like, and now I look at them greedily, with
such tender love. . . .
GAEV. I remember, when I was six years old, on Trinity
Sunday, I sat at this window and looked and saw my father
going to church. . . .
LUBOV. Have all the things been taken away ?
LOPAKHIN. Yes, all, I think. [To EPIKHODOV, putting
on his coat] You see that everything's quite straight,
Epikhodov.
EPIKHODOV. [Hoarsely] You may depend upon me,
Ermolai Alexeyevitch !
LOPAKHIN. What's the matter with your voice ?
EPIKHODOV. I swallowed something just now ; I was
having a drink of water.
YASHA. [Suspiciously] What manners. . . .
LUBOV. We go away, and not a soul remains behind.
LOPAKHIN. Till the spring.
VARYA. [Drags an umbrella out of a bundle, and seems
to be waving it about. LOPAKHIN appears to be fright;
What are you doing ? . . . 1 never thought . . .
276 THE CHERRY ORCHARD ACT iv
TROFIMOV. Conie along, let's take our seats . . . it's
time ! The train will be in directly.
^VARYA. Peter, here they are, your goloshes, by that
trunk. [In tears] And how old and dirty they are. . . .
TROFIMOV. [Putting them on] Come on !
GAEV. [Deeply moved, nearly crying] The train . . . the
station. . . . Cross in the middle, a white double in the
corner. . . .
LUBOV. Let's go !
LOPAKHIN. Are you all here ? There's nobody else ?
[Locks the side-door on the left] There's a lot of things in
there. I must lock them up. Come !
ANYA. Good-bye, home ! Good-bye, old life !
TROFIMOV. Welcome, new life. [Exit with ANYA.
VARY A looks round the room and goes out slowly.
YASHA and CHARLOTTA, with her little dog, go out.
LOPAKHIN. Till the spring, then ! Come on ... till we
meet again ! [Exit.
LUBOV ANDRE YEVNA and GAEV are left alone. They
might almost have been waiting for that. They fall
into each other's arms and sob restrainedly and
quietly, fearing that somebody might hear them.
GAEV. [In despair] My sister, my sister. . . .
LUBOV. My dear, my gentle, beautiful orchard ! My
life, my youth, my happiness, good-bye ! Good-bye !
ANYA'S VOICE. [Gaily] Mother !
TROFIMOV'S VOICE. [Gaily, excited] Coo-ee !
LUBOV. To look at the walls and the windows for the
last time. . . . My dead mother used to like to walk about
this room. . . .
GAEV. My sister, my sister !
ANYA'S VOICE. Mother !
TROFTMOV'S VOICE. Coo-ee !
ACT iv THE CHERRY ORCHARD 277
LUBOV. We're coming ! [They go out.
The stage is empty. The sound of keys being turned
in the locks is heard, and then the noise of the
carriages going away. It is quiet. Then the sound
of an axe against the trees is heard in the silence
sadly and by itself. Steps are heard. FIERS comes
in from the door on the right. He is dressed as usual,
in a short jacket and white waistcoat ; slippers on
his feet. He is ill. He goes to the door and tries
the handle.
FIERS. It's locked. They've gone away. [Sits on a sofa]
They've forgotten about me. . . . Never mind, I'll sit
here. . . . And Leonid Andreyevitch will have gone in a
light overcoat instead of putting on his fur coat. . . .
[Sighs anxiously] I didn't see. . . . Oh, these young
people ! [Mumbles something that cannot be understood]
Life's gone on as if I'd never lived. [Lying down] I'll lie
down. . . . You've no strength left in you, nothing left
at all. . . . Oh, you . . . bungler !
He lies without moving. The distant sound is heard,
as if from the sky, of a breaking string, dying away
sadly. Silence follows it, and only the sound is
heard, some way away in the orchard, of the axe
falling on the trees.
Curtain.
I'KIXTKl) AT
THE BALL A \TYNE PRESS
LONDOX 6* EDINBURGH
University of Toronto
Library
Acme Library Card Pocket
LOWE-MARTIN CO.
