About this book

Plays by Anton Chekhov, Second Series

Anton Pavlovich Chekhov

Count’s dog, while your Squeezer was left a whole verst behind. CHUBUKOV. He got left behind because the Count’s 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 palpitations, 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! CHUBUKOV. Boy! Pup! LOMOV. Old rat! Jesuit! CHUBUKOV. Shut up or I’ll shoot you like a partridge! You fool! 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 housekeeper! 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! Fool! 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 armchair] 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 seems to be coming round.... Drink some water! That’s right.... LOMOV. I see stars... mist.... Where am I? CHUBUKOV. 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! NATALYA STEPANOVNA. [Wails] He’s alive... Yes, yes, I’m willing.... CHUBUKOV. Kiss each other! LOMOV. Eh? Kiss whom? [They kiss] Very nice, too. 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 bridegroom 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 [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.] [ANNA MARTINOVNA ZMEYUKINA, YATS, and a GROOMSMAN cross the stage.] ZMEYUKINA. No, no, no! YATS. [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 TIMOFEYEVNA. My head’s aching a little... 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 [Note: So in the original]--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, including 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? NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. Oh, how can you? Epaminond 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 are horrid, really horrid. APLOMBOV. Then you don’t like to hear the truth? Aha! Oh, oh! Then behave honourably. I only want you to do one 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, promenade! [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 beautiful, beautiful voice! With such a voice, if you will forgive my using the word, you shouldn’t be a midwife, 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! 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 atmosphere! 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. Foo, 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. 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.”