The Collected Works of Anton Chekhov. Anton Chekhov
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this love of mine out of my heart by the roots.
TRIGORIN. How will you do it?
MASHA. By marrying Medviedenko.
TRIGORIN. The schoolteacher?
MASHA. Yes.
TRIGORIN. I don’t see the necessity for that.
MASHA. Oh, if you knew what it is to love without hope for years and years, to wait for ever for something that will never come! I shall not marry for love, but marriage will at least be a change, and will bring new cares to deaden the memories of the past. Shall we have another drink?
TRIGORIN. Haven’t you had enough?
MASHA. Fiddlesticks! [She fills a glass] Don’t look at me with that expression on your face. Women drink oftener than you imagine, but most of them do it in secret, and not openly, as I do. They do indeed, and it is always either vodka or brandy. [They touch glasses] To your good health! You are so easy to get on with that I am sorry to see you go. [They drink.]
TRIGORIN. And I am sorry to leave.
MASHA. You should ask her to stay.
TRIGORIN. She would not do that now. Her son has been behaving outrageously. First he attempted suicide, and now I hear he is going to challenge me to a duel, though what his provocation may be I can’t imagine. He is always sulking and sneering and preaching about a new form of art, as if the field of art were not large enough to accommodate both old and new without the necessity of jostling.
MASHA. It is jealousy. However, that is none of my business. [A pause. JACOB walks through the room carrying a trunk; NINA comes in and stands by the window] That schoolteacher of mine is none too clever, but he is very good, poor man, and he loves me dearly, and I am sorry for him. However, let me say goodbye and wish you a pleasant journey. Remember me kindly in your thoughts. [She shakes hands with him] Thanks for your goodwill. Send me your books, and be sure to write something in them; nothing formal, but simply this: “To Masha, who, forgetful of her origin, for some unknown reason is living in this world.” Goodbye. [She goes out.]
NINA. [Holding out her closed hand to TRIGORIN] Is it odd or even?
TRIGORIN. Even.
NINA. [With a sigh] No, it is odd. I had only one pea in my hand. I wanted to see whether I was to become an actress or not. If only some one would advise me what to do!
TRIGORIN. One cannot give advice in a case like this. [A pause.]
NINA. We shall soon part, perhaps never to meet again. I should like you to accept this little medallion as a remembrance of me. I have had your initials engraved on it, and on this side is the name of one of your books: “Days and Nights.”
TRIGORIN. How sweet of you! [He kisses the medallion] It is a lovely present.
NINA. Think of me sometimes.
TRIGORIN. I shall never forget you. I shall always remember you as I saw you that bright day — do you recall it? — a week ago, when you wore your light dress, and we talked together, and the white seagull lay on the bench beside us.
NINA. [Lost in thought] Yes, the seagull. [A pause] I beg you to let me see you alone for two minutes before you go.
She goes out to the left. At the same moment ARKADINA comes in from the right, followed by SORIN in a long coat, with his orders on his breast, and by JACOB, who is busy packing.
ARKADINA. Stay here at home, you poor old man. How could you pay visits with that rheumatism of yours? [To TRIGORIN] Who left the room just now, was it Nina?
TRIGORIN. Yes.
ARKADINA. I beg your pardon; I am afraid we interrupted you. [She sits down] I think everything is packed. I am absolutely exhausted.
TRIGORIN. [Reading the inscription on the medallion] “Days and Nights, page 121, lines 11 and 12.”
JACOB. [Clearing the table] Shall I pack your fishing-rods, too, sir?
TRIGORIN. Yes, I shall need them, but you can give my books away.
JACOB. Very well, sir.
TRIGORIN. [To himself] Page 121, lines 11 and 12. [To ARKADINA] Have we my books here in the house?
ARKADINA. Yes, they are in my brother’s library, in the corner cupboard.
TRIGORIN. Page 121 — [He goes out.]
SORIN. You are going away, and I shall be lonely without you.
ARKADINA. What would you do in town?
SORIN. Oh, nothing in particular, but somehow — [He laughs] They are soon to lay the corner-stone of the new courthouse here. How I should like to leap out of this minnow-pond, if but for an hour or two! I am tired of lying here like an old cigarette stump. I have ordered the carriage for one o’clock. We can go away together.
ARKADINA. [After a pause] No, you must stay here. Don’t be lonely, and don’t catch cold. Keep an eye on my boy. Take good care of him; guide him along the proper paths. [A pause] I am going away, and so shall never find out why Constantine shot himself, but I think the chief reason was jealousy, and the sooner I take Trigorin away, the better.
SORIN. There were — how shall I explain it to you? — other reasons besides jealousy for his act. Here is a clever young chap living in the depths of the country, without money or position, with no future ahead of him, and with nothing to do. He is ashamed and afraid of being so idle. I am devoted to him and he is fond of me, but nevertheless he feels that he is useless here, that he is little more than a dependent in this house. It is the pride in him.
ARKADINA. He is a misery to me! [Thoughtfully] He might possibly enter the army.
SORIN. [Gives a whistle, and then speaks with hesitation] It seems to me that the best thing for him would be if you were to let him have a little money. For one thing, he ought to be allowed to dress like a human being. See how he looks! Wearing the same little old coat that he has had for three years, and he doesn’t even possess an overcoat! [Laughing] And it wouldn’t hurt the youngster to sow a few wild oats; let him go abroad, say, for a time. It wouldn’t cost much.
ARKADINA. Yes, but — However, I think I might manage about his clothes, but I couldn’t let him go abroad. And no, I don’t think I can let him have his clothes even, now. [Decidedly] I have no money at present.
SORIN laughs.
ARKADINA. I haven’t indeed.
SORIN. [Whistles] Very well. Forgive me, darling; don’t be angry. You are a noble, generous woman!
ARKADINA. [Weeping] I really haven’t the money.
SORIN. If I had any money of course I should let him have some myself, but I haven’t even a penny. The farm manager takes my pension from me and puts it all into the farm or into cattle or bees, and in that way it is always lost for ever. The bees die, the cows die, they never let me have a horse.
ARKADINA. Of course I have some money, but I am an actress and my expenses for dress alone are enough to bankrupt me.
SORIN. You are a dear, and I am very fond of you, indeed I am. But something is the matter with me again. [He staggers] I feel giddy. [He leans against the table] I feel faint, and all.
ARKADINA. [Frightened ] Peter! [She tries to support him] Peter! dearest! [She calls] Help! Help!
TREPLIEFF and MEDVIEDENKO come in; TREPLIEFF has a bandage around his head.
ARKADINA. He is fainting!
SORIN. I am all right. [He smiles and drinks some water] It is all over now.
TREPLIEFF. [To his mother] Don’t be frightened, mother, these attacks are not dangerous; my uncle often has them now. [To his uncle] You must go and lie down, Uncle.
SORIN. Yes, I think I shall, for a few minutes. I am going to Moscow all the same, but I shall lie down a bit before I start. [He goes out leaning on his cane.]
MEDVIEDENKO.