The Collected Works of Anton Chekhov. Anton Chekhov
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Do not come out to see me off. I shall find the way alone. [Weeping] Let me have some water.
TREPLIEFF hands her a glass of water.
TREPLIEFF. Where are you going?
NINA. Back to the village. Is your mother here?
TREPLIEFF. Yes, my uncle fell ill on Thursday, and we telegraphed for her to come.
NINA. Why do you say that you have kissed the ground I walked on? You should kill me rather. [She bends over the table] I am so tired. If I could only rest — rest. [She raises her head] I am a seagull — no — no, I am an actress. [She hears ARKADINA and TRIGORIN laughing in the distance, runs to the door on the left and looks through the keyhole] He is there too. [She goes back to TREPLIEFF] Ah, well — no matter. He does not believe in the theatre; he used to laugh at my dreams, so that little by little I became downhearted and ceased to believe in it too. Then came all the cares of love, the continual anxiety about my little one, so that I soon grew trivial and spiritless, and played my parts without meaning. I never knew what to do with my hands, and I could not walk properly or control my voice. You cannot imagine the state of mind of one who knows as he goes through a play how terribly badly he is acting. I am a seagull — no — no, that is not what I meant to say. Do you remember how you shot a seagull once? A man chanced to pass that way and destroyed it out of idleness. That is an idea for a short story, but it is not what I meant to say. [She passes her hand across her forehead] What was I saying? Oh, yes, the stage. I have changed now. Now I am a real actress. I act with joy, with exaltation, I am intoxicated by it, and feel that I am superb. I have been walking and walking, and thinking and thinking, ever since I have been here, and I feel the strength of my spirit growing in me every day. I know now, I understand at last, Constantine, that for us, whether we write or act, it is not the honour and glory of which I have dreamt that is important, it is the strength to endure. One must know how to bear one’s cross, and one must have faith. I believe, and so do not suffer so much, and when I think of my calling I do not fear life.
TREPLIEFF. [Sadly] You have found your way, you know where you are going, but I am still groping in a chaos of phantoms and dreams, not knowing whom and what end I am serving by it all. I do not believe in anything, and I do not know what my calling is.
NINA. [Listening] Hush! I must go. Goodbye. When I have become a famous actress you must come and see me. Will you promise to come? But now — [She takes his hand] it is late. I can hardly stand. I am fainting. I am hungry.
TREPLIEFF. Stay, and let me bring you some supper.
NINA. No, no — and don’t come out, I can find the way alone. My carriage is not far away. So she brought him back with her? However, what difference can that make to me? Don’t tell Trigorin anything when you see him. I love him — I love him even more than I used to. It is an idea for a short story. I love him — I love him passionately — I love him to despair. Have you forgotten, Constantine, how pleasant the old times were? What a gay, bright, gentle, pure life we led? How a feeling as sweet and tender as a flower blossomed in our hearts? Do you remember, [She recites] “All men and beasts, lions, eagles, and quails, horned stags, geese, spiders, silent fish that inhabit the waves, starfish from the sea, and creatures invisible to the eye — in one word, life — all, all life, completing the dreary round set before it, has died out at last. A thousand years have passed since the earth last bore a living creature on its breast, and the unhappy moon now lights her lamp in vain. No longer are the cries of storks heard in the meadows, or the drone of beetles in the groves of limes — —”
She embraces TREPLIEFF impetuously and runs out onto the terrace.
TREPLIEFF. [After a pause] It would be a pity if she were seen in the garden. My mother would be distressed.
He stands for several minutes tearing up his manuscripts and throwing them under the table, then unlocks the door on the right and goes out.
DORN. [Trying to force open the door on the left] Odd! This door seems to be locked. [He comes in and puts the chair back in its former place] This is like a hurdle race.
ARKADINA and PAULINA come in, followed by JACOB carrying some bottles; then come MASHA, SHAMRAEFF, and TRIGORIN.
ARKADINA. Put the claret and the beer here, on the table, so that we can drink while we are playing. Sit down, friends.
PAULINA. And bring the tea at once.
She lights the candles and takes her seat at the card-table. SHAMRAEFF leads TRIGORIN to the cupboard.
SHAMRAEFF. Here is the stuffed seagull I was telling you about. [He takes the seagull out of the cupboard] You told me to have it done.
TRIGORIN. [looking at the bird] I don’t remember a thing about it, not a thing. [A shot is heard. Every one jumps.]
ARKADINA. [Frightened] What was that?
DORN. Nothing at all; probably one of my medicine bottles has blown up. Don’t worry. [He goes out through the door on the right, and comes back in a few moments] It is as I thought, a flask of ether has exploded. [He sings]
“Spellbound once more I stand before thee.”
ARKADINA. [Sitting down at the table] Heavens! I was really frightened. That noise reminded me of — [She covers her face with her hands] Everything is black before my eyes.
DORN. [Looking through the pages of a magazine, to TRIGORIN] There was an article from America in this magazine about two months ago that I wanted to ask you about, among other things. [He leads TRIGORIN to the front of the stage] I am very much interested in this question. [He lowers his voice and whispers] You must take Madame Arkadina away from here; what I wanted to say was, that Constantine has shot himself.
Curtain.
A RELUCTANT HERO or, A Tragedian in Spite of Himself
CHARACTERS
IVAN IVANOVITCH TOLKACHOV, the father of a family
ALEXEY ALEXEYEVITCH MURASHKIN, his friend
The scene is laid in St. Petersburg, in MURASHKIN’S flat
A RELUCTANT HERO
[MURASHKIN’S study. Comfortable furniture. MURASHKIN is seated at his desk. Enter TOLKACHOV holding in his hands a glass globe for a lamp, a toy bicycle, three hat-boxes, a large parcel containing a dress, a bin-case of beer, and several little parcels. He looks round stupidly and lets himself down on the sofa in exhaustion.]
MURASHKIN. How do you do, Ivan Ivanovitch? Delighted to see you! What brings you here?
TOLKACHOV. [Breathing heavily] My dear good fellow… I want to ask you something…. I implore you lend me a revolver till tomorrow. Be a friend!
MURASHKIN. What do you want a revolver for?
TOLKACHOV. I must have it…. Oh, little fathers!… give me some water… water quickly!… I must have it… I’ve got to go through a dark wood tonight, so in case of accidents… do, please, lend it to me.
MURASHKIN. Oh, you liar, Ivan Ivanovitch! What the devil have you got to do in a dark wood? I expect you are up to something. I can see by your face that you are up to something. What’s the matter with you? Are you ill?
TOLKACHOV. Wait a moment, let me breathe…. Oh little mothers! I am dog-tired. I’ve got a feeling all over me, and in my head as well, as if I’ve been roasted on a spit. I can’t stand it any longer. Be a friend, and don’t ask me any questions or insist on details; just give me the revolver! I beseech you!
MURASHKIN. Well, really! Ivan Ivanovitch, what cowardice is this? The father of a family and a Civil Servant holding a responsible post! For shame!
TOLKACHOV. What sort of a father of a family am I! I am