Selected plays

by Anton Chekhov

  NATASHA. You would be in the same room with Olga, and Bobik in your room. He is such a darling. I said to him today, "Bobik, you are mine, you are mine!" and he looked at me with his funny little eyes. [A ring] That must be Olga. How late she is!

  [The maid comes up to NATASHA and whispers in her ear.]

  NATASHA. Protopopov? What a crazy fellow he is! Protopopov has come, and asks me to go out with him in his sleigh [laughs]. How strange men are! . . . [A ring] Somebody has come. I might go for a quarter of an hour. . . . [To the maid] Tell him I'll be right there. [A ring] You hear . . . it must be Olga [goes out].

  [The maid runs out; IRINA sits lost in thought; KULYGIN, OLGA and VERSHININ come in.]

  KULYGIN. Well, this is a surprise! They said they were going to have an evening party.

  VERSHININ. Strange! And when I went away half an hour ago they were expecting the Carnival people. . . .

  IRINA. They've all gone.

  KULYGIN. Has Masha gone too? Where has she gone? And why is Protopopov waiting below with his sleigh? Whom is he waiting for?

  IRINA. Don't ask questions. . . . I am tired.

  KULYGIN. Oh, isn't she a bad little girl. . . .

  OLGA. The meeting is only just over. I'm tired out. Our headmistress is ill and I have to take her place. Oh, my head, my head does ache; oh, my head! [Sits down.] Andrey lost two hundred roubles yesterday at cards. . . . The whole town is talking about it, . . .

  KULYGIN. Yes, I'm tired out by the meeting too [sits down].

  VERSHININ. My wife took it into her head to give me a fright, she nearly poisoned herself. It's all right now, and I'm glad, it's a relief, . . . So we are to go away? Very well, then, I'll say good night. Fyodor Ilyitch, let's go somewhere together! I can't stay at home, I absolutely can't. . . . Come along!

  KULYGIN. I am tired. I'm not coming [gets up]. I'm tired. Has my wife gone home?

  IRINA. I expect so.

  KULYGIN [kisses IRINA'S hand]. Good-bye! I have all day tomorrow and next day to rest. Good night! [Going] I do want some tea. I was counting on spending the evening in pleasant company. . . . O fallacem hominum spem! . . . Accusative of exclamation.

  VERSHININ. Well, then, I must go alone [goes out with KULYGIN, whistling].

  OLGA. My head aches, oh, how my head aches. . . . Andrey has lost at cards. . . . The whole town is talking about it. . . . I'll go and lie down [is going]. Tomorrow I'll be free. . . . Oh, God, how nice that is! Tomorrow I'm free, and the day after I'm free. . . . My head does ache, oh, my head . . . [goes out].

  IRINA [alone]. They've all gone away. There's no one left.

  [An accordion plays in the street, the nanny sings.]

  NATASHA [in a fur cap and coat crosses the dining-room, followed by the maid]. I'll be back in half an hour. I'll only go a little way [goes out].

  IRINA [left alone, in dejection]. Oh, to go to Moscow, to Moscow!

  CURTAIN. Act III

  The bedroom of OLGA and IRINA. On the left and right beds with screens round them. Past two o'clock in the night. Behind the scenes a bell is ringing on account of a fire in the town, which has been going on for some time. It can be seen that no one in the house has gone to bed yet. On the sofa MASHA is lying, dressed as usual in black. Enter OLGA and ANFISA.

  ANFISA. They are sitting below, under the stairs. . . . I said to them, "Come upstairs; why, you mustn't stay there" -- they only cried. "We don't know where father is," they said. "What if he is burnt!" What an idea! And the poor souls in the yard . . . they are all undressed too.

  OLGA [taking clothes out of the closet]. Take this grey dress . . . and this one . . . and the blouse too . . . and that skirt, nanny. . . . Oh, dear, what a dreadful thing! Kirsanov Street is burnt to the ground, it seems. . . . Take this . . . take this . . . [throws clothes into her arms]. The Vershinins have had a fright, poor things. . . . Their house was very nearly burnt. Let them stay the night here . . . we can't let them go home. . . . Poor Fedotik has had everything burnt, he doesn't have a thing left. . . .

  ANFISA. You'd better call Ferapont, Olyushka darling, I can't carry it all.

  OLGA [rings]. No one will answer the bell [at the door]. Come here, whoever is there! [Through the open door can be seen a window red with fire; the fire brigade is heard passing the house.] How awful it is! And I'm sick of it!

  [Enter FERAPONT.]

  OLGA. Here take these, carry them downstairs. . . . The Kolotilin young ladies are downstairs . . . give it to them . . . and give this too.

  FERAPONT. Yes, miss. In 1812 Moscow was burnt too. . . . Mercy on us! The French were surprised.

  OLGA. You can go now.

  FERAPONT. Yes, miss [goes out].

  OLGA. Nanny darling, give them everything. We don't want anything, give it all to them. . . . I'm tired, I can hardly stand on my feet. . . . We mustn't let the Vershinins go home. . . . The little girls can sleep in the drawing-room, and Alexandr Ignatyevitch down below at the baron's. . . . Fedotik can go to the baron's, too, or sleep in our dining-room. . . . As ill-luck will have it, the doctor is drunk, frightfully drunk, and no one can be put in his room. And Vershinin's wife can be in the drawing-room too.

  ANFISA [wearily]. Olyushka darling, don't send me away; don't send me away!

  OLGA. That's nonsense, nanny. No one is sending you away.

  ANFISA [lays her head on OLGA'S shoulder]. My own, my treasure, I work, I do my best. . . . I'm getting weak, everyone will say "Send her away!" And where am I to go? Where? I'm eighty. Eighty-one.

  OLGA. Sit down, nanny darling. . . . You are tired, poor thing . . . [makes her sit down]. Rest, dear good nanny. . . . How pale you are!

  [Enter NATASHA.]

  NATASHA. They're saying we must form a committee at once for the assistance of those whose houses have been burnt. Well, that's a good idea. Indeed, we ought always to be ready to help the poor, it's the duty of the rich. Bobik and baby Sophie are both asleep, sleeping as though nothing were happening. There are such a lot of people everywhere, wherever you go, the house is full. There is influenza in the town now; I'm so afraid the children may get it.

  OLGA [not listening]. In this room you can't see the fire, it's quiet here.

  NATASHA. Yes . . . my hair must be untidy [in front of the mirror]. They say I have grown fatter . . . but it's not true! Not a bit! Masha is asleep, she is tired out, poor dear. . . . [To ANFISA coldly] Don't dare to sit down in my presence! Get up! Go out of the room! [ANFISA goes out; a pause]. Why you keep that old woman, I can't understand!

  OLGA [taken aback]. Excuse me, I don't understand either. . . .

  NATASHA. She is no use here. She's a peasant; she ought to be in the country. . . . You spoil people! I like order in the house! There ought to be no useless servants in the house. [Strokes her cheek.] You are tired, poor darling. Our headmistress is tired! When baby Sophie is a big girl and goes to the high-school, I shall be afraid of you.

  OLGA. I won't be headmistress.

  NATASHA. You'll be elected, Olechka. That's a settled thing.

  OLGA. I'll refuse. I can't, . . . It's too much for me . . . [drinks water]. You were so rude to nanny just now. . . . Excuse me, I can't endure it, . . . It makes me feel faint.

  NATASHA [perturbed]. Forgive me, Olya; forgive me. . . . I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.

  [MASHA gets up, takes her pillow, and goes out in a rage.]

  OLGA. You must understand, my dear, it may be that we have been strangely brought up, but I can't endure it, . . . Such an attitude oppresses me, it makes me ill. . . . I feel simply unnerved by it, . . .

  NATASHA. Forgive me; forgive me . . . [kisses her].

  OLGA. The very slightest rudeness, a tactless word, upsets me. . . .

  NATASHA. I often say too much, that's true, but you must admit, dear, that she might just as well be in the country.

  OLGA. She's been with us for thirty years.

  NATASHA. But now she can't work! Either I don't understand, or you won't understand me. She's not fit
for work. She does nothing but sleep or sit still.

  OLGA. Well, let her sit still.

  NATASHA [surprised]. How, sit still? Why, she's a servant. [Through tears] I don't understand you, Olya. I've a nanny to look after the children as well as a wet nurse for baby, and we have a housemaid and a cook, what do we want that old woman for? What's the use of her?

  [The alarm bell rings behind the scenes.]

  OLGA. This night has made me ten years older.

  NATASHA. We must come to an understanding, Olya. You are at the high-school, I'm at home; you're teaching while I look after the house, and if I say anything about the servants, I know what I'm talking about; I do know-what-I-am-talk-ing-a-bout. . . . And that old thief, that old hag . . . [stamps her foot], that old witch shall clear out of the house tomorrow! . . . I won't have people annoy me! I won't have it! [Feeling that she has gone too far] Really, if you don't move downstairs, we'll always be quarrelling. It's awful.

  [Enter KULYGIN.]

  KULYGIN. Where is Masha? It's time to be going home. The fire is dying down, so they say [stretches]. Only one part of the town has been burnt, and yet there was a wind; it seemed at first as though the whole town would be destroyed [sits down]. I'm exhausted. Olechka, my dear . . . I often think if it had not been for Masha I should have married you. You're so good. . . . I'm tired out [listens].

  OLGA. What is it?

  KULYGIN. It is unfortunate the doctor should have a drinking bout just now; he is helplessly drunk. Most unfortunate [gets up]. Here he comes, I do believe. . . . Do you hear? Yes, he's coming this way . . . [laughs]. What a man he is, really. . . . I'll hide [goes to the wardrobe and stands in the corner]. Isn't he a ruffian!

  OLGA. He hasn't drunk for two years and now he's gone and done it . . . [walks away with NATASHA to the back of the room].

  [CHEBUTYKIN comes in; walking as though sober without staggering, he walks across the room, stops, looks round; then goes up to the washing-stand and begins to wash his hands.]

  CHEBUTYKIN [morosely]. The devil take them all . . . damn them all. They think I'm a doctor, that I can treat all sorts of complaints, and I really know nothing about it, I've forgotten all I did know, I remember nothing, absolutely nothing. [OLGA and NATASHA go out unnoticed by him.] The devil take them. Last Wednesday I treated a woman at Zasyp -- she died, and it's my fault that she died. Yes . . . I did know something twenty-five years ago, but now I remember nothing, nothing. Perhaps I'm not a man at all but only pretend to have arms and legs and head; perhaps I don't exist at all and only imagine that I walk around, eat and sleep [weeps]. Oh, if only I didn't exist! [Stops weeping, morosely] I don't care! I don't care a scrap! [a pause] Who the hell knows. . . . The day before yesterday there was a conversation at the club: they talked about Shakespeare, Voltaire. . . . I've read nothing, nothing at all, but I looked as though I'd read them. And the others did the same as I did. The vulgarity! The meanness! And that woman I killed on Wednesday came back to my mind . . . and it all came back to my mind and everything seemed nasty, disgusting and all twisted in my soul. . . . I went and got drunk, . . .

  [Enter IRINA, VERSHININ and TUZENBAKH; TUZENBAKH is wearing a fashionable new civilian suit.]

  IRINA. Let's sit here. No one will come here.

  VERSHININ. If it hadn't been for the soldiers, the whole town would've been burnt down. Splendid fellows! [Rubs his hands with pleasure.] They are first-rate men! Splendid fellows!

  KULYGIN [going up to them]. What time is it?

  TUZENBAKH. It's past three. It's getting light already.

  IRINA. They're all sitting in the dining-room. No one seems to think of going. And that Solyony of yours is sitting there too, . . . [To CHEBUTYKIN] You had better go to bed, doctor.

  CHEBUTYKIN. It's all right, . . . Thank you! [Combs his beard.]

  KULYGIN [laughs]. You've been hitting the bottle, Ivan Romanitch! [Slaps him on the shoulder.] Bravo! In vino veritas, the ancients used to say.

  TUZENBAKH. Everyone is asking me to get up a concert for the benefit of the families whose houses have been burnt down.

  IRINA. Why, who is there? . . .

  TUZENBAKH. We could do it, if we wanted to. Marya Sergeyevna plays the piano splendidly, to my thinking.

  KULYGIN. Yes, she plays splendidly.

  IRINA. She's forgotten. She hasn't played for three . . . or four years.

  TUZENBAKH. There is absolutely no one who understands music in this town, not one soul, but I do understand and on my honour I assure you that Marya Sergeyevna plays magnificently, almost with genius.

  KULYGIN. You are right, Baron. I'm very fond of her; Masha, I mean. She is a good sort.

  TUZENBAKH. To be able to play so gloriously and to know that no one understands you!

  KULYGIN [sighs]. Yes. . . . But would it be suitable for her to take part in a concert? [a pause] I know nothing about it, my friends. Perhaps it would be all right. There's no denying that our director is a fine man, indeed a very fine man, very intelligent, but he has such views, . . . Of course it's not his business, still if you like I'll speak to him about it.

  [CHEBUTYKIN takes up a china clock and examines it.]

  VERSHININ. I got dirty all over at the fire. I'm a sight [a pause]. I heard a word dropped yesterday about our brigade being transferred ever so far away. Some say to Poland, and others to Tchita.

  TUZENBAKH. I've heard something about it too. Well! The town will be a wilderness then.

  IRINA. We'll go away too.

  CHEBUTYKIN [drops the clock, which smashes]. To smithereens! [Pause; everyone is upset and confused]

  KULYGIN [picking up the pieces]. To smash such a valuable thing -- oh, Ivan Romanitch, Ivan Romanitch! I'd give you minus zero for conduct!

  IRINA. That was mother's clock.

  CHEBUTYKIN. Perhaps. . . . Well, if it was hers, it was. Perhaps I didn't smash it, but it only seems as though I had. Perhaps it only seems to us that we exist, but really we aren't here at all. I don't know anything -- nobody knows anything. [By the door] What are you staring at? Natasha has got a little affair going with Protopopov, and you don't see it, . . . You sit here and see nothing, while Natasha has a little affair on with Protopopov . . . [sings]. May I offer you this fig? . . . [Goes out.]

  VERSHININ. Yes . . . [laughs]. How very strange it all is, really! [a pause] When the fire began I ran home as fast as I could. I went up and saw our house was safe and sound and out of danger, but my little girls were standing in the doorway in their night-gowns; their mother was nowhere to be seen, people were bustling about, horses and dogs were running about, and my children's faces were full of alarm, horror, pleas for help, and I don't know what; it wrung my heart to see their faces. My God, I thought, what more have these children to go through in the long years to come! I took their hands and ran along with them, and could think of nothing else but what more they would have to go through in this world! [a pause] When I came to your house I found their mother here, screaming, angry.

  [MASHA comes in with the pillow and sits down on the sofa.]

  VERSHININ. And while my little girls were standing in the doorway in their nightgowns and the street was red with the fire, and there was a fearful noise, I thought that something like it used to happen years ago when the enemy would suddenly make a raid and begin plundering and burning, . . . And yet, in reality, what a difference there is between what is now and has been in the past! And when a little more time has passed -- another two or three hundred years -- people will look at our present manner of life with horror and derision, and everything of today will seem awkward and heavy, and very strange and uncomfortable. Oh, what a wonderful life that will be -- what a wonderful life! [Laughs] Forgive me, here I am airing my theories again! Allow me to go on. I have such a desire to talk about the future. I'm in the mood [a pause]. It's as though everyone were asleep. And so, I say, what a wonderful life it will be! Can you only imagine? . . . Here there are only three of your sort in the town now, but in generations to come t
here will be more and more and more; and the time will come when everything will be changed and be as you would have it; they will live in your way, and later on you too will be out of date -- people will be born who will be better than you. . . . [laughs]. I am in such a strange state of mind today. I have a fiendish longing for life . . . [sings]. Young and old are bound by love, and precious are its pangs . . . [laughs].

  MASHA. Tram-tam-tam!

  VERSHININ. Tam-tam!

  MASHA. Tra-ra-ra?

  VERSHININ. Tra-ta-ta! [Laughs]

  [Enter FEDOTIK.]

  FEDOTIK [dances]. Burnt to ashes! Burnt to ashes! Everything I had in the world [laughter].

  IRINA. That's not something to joke about. Is everything burnt?

  FEDOTIK [laughs]. Everything I had in the world. Nothing is left. My guitar is burnt, and the camera and all my letters. . . . And the note-book I meant to give you -- that's burnt too.

  [Enter SOLYONY.]

  IRINA. No; please go, Vassily Vassilyitch. You can't stay here.

  SOLYONY. How is it the baron can be here and I can't?

  VERSHININ. We must be going, really. How's the fire?

  SOLYONY. They say it's dying down. No, I really can't understand why the baron may be here and not me [takes out a bottle of scent and sprinkles himself].

  VERSHININ. Tram-tam-tam!

  MASHA. Tram-tam!

  VERSHININ [laughs, to SOLYONY]. Let's go into the dining-room.

  SOLYONY. Very well; we'll make a note of it. I might explain my meaning further, but fear I may provoke the geese . . . [looking at TUZENBAKH]. Chook, chook, chook! . . . [Goes out with VERSHININ and FEDOTIK.]

  IRINA. How that horrid Solyony has made the room smell of tobacco! . . . [Bewildered] The baron is asleep! Baron, Baron!

  TUZENBAKH [waking up]. I'm tired, though. . . . The brick-yard. I'm not talking in my sleep. I really am going to the brick factory directly, to begin work. . . . It's nearly settled. [To IRINA, tenderly] You're so pale and lovely and fascinating. . . . It seems to me as though your paleness sheds a light through the dark air. . . . You're melancholy; you're dissatisfied with life. . . . . . Ah, come with me; let's go and work together!