The Collected Works of Anton Chekhov. Anton Chekhov
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her knees] You are my pride, my joy, my light. [She embraces his knees] I could never endure it should you desert me, if only for an hour; I should go mad. Oh, my wonder, my marvel, my king!
TRIGORIN. Some one might come in. [He helps her to rise.]
ARKADINA. Let them come! I am not ashamed of my love. [She kisses his hands] My jewel! My despair! You want to do a foolish thing, but I don’t want you to do it. I shan’t let you do it! [She laughs] You are mine, you are mine! This forehead is mine, these eyes are mine, this silky hair is mine. All your being is mine. You are so clever, so wise, the first of all living writers; you are the only hope of your country. You are so fresh, so simple, so deeply humourous. You can bring out every feature of a man or of a landscape in a single line, and your characters live and breathe. Do you think that these words are but the incense of flattery? Do you think I am not speaking the truth? Come, look into my eyes; look deep; do you find lies there? No, you see that I alone know how to treasure you. I alone tell you the truth. Oh, my very dear, you will go with me? You will? You will not forsake me?
TRIGORIN. I have no will of my own; I never had. I am too indolent, too submissive, too phlegmatic, to have any. Is it possible that women like that? Take me. Take me away with you, but do not let me stir a step from your side.
ARKADINA. [To herself] Now he is mine! [Carelessly, as if nothing unusual had happened] Of course you must stay here if you really want to. I shall go, and you can follow in a week’s time. Yes, really, why should you hurry away?
TRIGORIN. Let us go together.
ARKADINA. As you like. Let us go together then. [A pause. TRIGORIN writes something in his notebook] What are you writing?
TRIGORIN. A happy expression I heard this morning: “A grove of maiden pines.” It may be useful. [He yawns] So we are really off again, condemned once more to railway carriages, to stations and restaurants, to Hamburger steaks and endless arguments!
SHAMRAEFF comes in.
SHAMRAEFF. I am sorry to have to inform you that your carriage is at the door. It is time to start, honoured madam, the train leaves at two-five. Would you be kind enough, madam, to remember to inquire for me where Suzdaltzeff the actor is now? Is he still alive, I wonder? Is he well? He and I have had many a jolly time together. He was inimitable in “The Stolen Mail.” A tragedian called Izmailoff was in the same company, I remember, who was also quite remarkable. Don’t hurry, madam, you still have five minutes. They were both of them conspirators once, in the same melodrama, and one night when in the course of the play they were suddenly discovered, instead of saying “We have been trapped!” Izmailoff cried out: “We have been rapped!” [He laughs] Rapped!
While he has been talking JACOB has been busy with the trunks, and the maid has brought ARKADINA her hat, coat, parasol, and gloves. The cook looks hesitatingly through the door on the right, and finally comes into the room. PAULINA comes in. MEDVIEDENKO comes in.
PAULINA. [Presenting ARKADINA with a little basket] Here are some plums for the journey. They are very sweet ones. You may want to nibble something good on the way.
ARKADINA. You are very kind, Paulina.
PAULINA. Goodbye, my dearie. If things have not been quite as you could have wished, please forgive us. [She weeps.]
ARKADINA. It has been delightful, delightful. You mustn’t cry.
SORIN comes in through the door on the left, dressed in a long coat with a cape, and carrying his hat and cane. He crosses the room.
SORIN. Come, sister, it is time to start, unless you want to miss the train. I am going to get into the carriage. [He goes out.]
MEDVIEDENKO. I shall walk quickly to the station and see you off there. [He goes out.]
ARKADINA. Goodbye, all! We shall meet again next summer if we live. [The maid servant, JACOB, and the cook kiss her hand] Don’t forget me. [She gives the cook a rouble] There is a rouble for all three of you.
THE COOK. Thank you, mistress; a pleasant journey to you.
JACOB. God bless you, mistress.
SHAMRAEFF. Send us a line to cheer us up. [TO TRIGORIN] Goodbye, sir.
ARKADINA. Where is Constantine? Tell him I am starting. I must say goodbye to him. [To JACOB] I gave the cook a rouble for all three of you.
All go out through the door on the right. The stage remains empty. Sounds of farewell are heard. The maid comes running back to fetch the basket of plums which has been forgotten. TRIGORIN comes back.
TRIGORIN. I had forgotten my cane. I think I left it on the terrace. [He goes toward the door on the right and meets NINA, who comes in at that moment] Is that you? We are off.
NINA. I knew we should meet again. [With emotion] I have come to an irrevocable decision, the die is cast: I am going on the stage. I am deserting my father and abandoning everything. I am beginning life anew. I am going, as you are, to Moscow. We shall meet there.
TRIGORIN. [Glancing about him] Go to the Hotel Slavianski Bazar. Let me know as soon as you get there. I shall be at the Grosholski House in Moltchanofka Street. I must go now. [A pause.]
NINA. Just one more minute!
TRIGORIN. [In a low voice] You are so beautiful! What bliss to think that I shall see you again so soon! [She sinks on his breast] I shall see those glorious eyes again, that wonderful, ineffably tender smile, those gentle features with their expression of angelic purity! My darling! [A prolonged kiss.]
The curtain falls.
Two years elapse between the third and fourth acts.
ACT IV
A sitting-room in SORIN’S house, which has been converted into a writing-room for TREPLIEFF. To the right and left are doors leading into inner rooms, and in the centre is a glass door opening onto a terrace. Besides the usual furniture of a sitting-room there is a writing-desk in the right-hand corner of the room. There is a Turkish divan near the door on the left, and shelves full of books stand against t he walls. Books are lying scattered about on the windowsills and chairs. It is evening. The room is dimly lighted by a shaded lamp on a table. The wind moans in the tree tops and whistles down the chimney. The watchman in the garden is heard sounding his rattle. MEDVIEDENKO and MASHA come in.
MASHA. [Calling TREPLIEFF] Mr. Constantine, where are you? [Looking about her] There is no one here. His old uncle is forever asking for Constantine, and can’t live without him for an instant.
MEDVIEDENKO. He dreads being left alone. [Listening to the wind] This is a wild night. We have had this storm for two days.
MASHA. [Turning up the lamp] The waves on the lake are enormous.
MEDVIEDENKO. It is very dark in the garden. Do you know, I think that old theatre ought to be knocked down. It is still standing there, naked and hideous as a skeleton, with the curtain flapping in the wind. I thought I heard a voice weeping in it as I passed there last night.
MASHA. What an idea! [A pause.]
MEDVIEDENKO. Come home with me, Masha.
MASHA. [Shaking her head] I shall spend the night here.
MEDVIEDENKO. [Imploringly] Do come, Masha. The baby must be hungry.
MASHA. Nonsense, Matriona will feed it. [A pause.]
MEDVIEDENKO. It is a pity to leave him three nights without his mother.
MASHA. You are getting too tiresome. You used sometimes to talk of other things besides home and the baby, home and the baby. That is all I ever hear from you now.
MEDVIEDENKO. Come home, Masha.
MASHA. You can go home if you want to.
MEDVIEDENKO. Your father won’t give me a horse.