Plays by Anton Chekhov, Second Series

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. ANYA and VARYA scream; laughter is heard immediately] What’s that? [ANYA 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 delivered a few lines when a waltz is heard from the front room, and the recitation is stopped. Everybody dances. TROFIMOV, ANYA, VARYA, and LUBOV ANDREYEVNA 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. FIERS enters and stands his stick by a side door. 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. _Merci_. 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 now. [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. [Laughs.] 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.... [LUBOV 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 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 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 here! This minute! EPIKHODOV. [Nervous] I must ask you to express yourself 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? 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 show 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, with his left he wipes away his tears.] LUBOV. Leon, what’s happened? Leon, well? [Impatiently, 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. Help 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? 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. VARYA 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.... [Laughs] 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 unknown.... [Picks up the keys, nicely smiling] She threw down the keys, she wanted to show she was no longer 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 ANDREYEVNA 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 with, 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! [Exit with PISCHIN] [In the reception-room and the drawing-room nobody remains 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