The Collected Works of Anton Chekhov. Anton Chekhov
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glorious eyes, such as I have never seen before….
IRINA. [Coldly] Stop it, Vassili Vassilevitch!
SOLENI. This is the first time I speak to you of love, and it is as if I am no longer on the earth, but on another planet. [Wipes his forehead] Well, never mind. I can’t make you love me by force, of course… but I don’t intend to have any more-favoured rivals…. No… I swear to you by all the saints, I shall kill my rival…. Oh, beautiful one!
[NATASHA enters with a candle; she looks in through one door, then through another, and goes past the door leading to her husband’s room.]
NATASHA. Here’s Andrey. Let him go on reading. Excuse me, Vassili Vassilevitch, I did not know you were here; I am engaged in domesticities.
SOLENI. It’s all the same to me. Goodbye! [Exit.]
NATASHA. You’re so tired, my poor dear girl! [Kisses IRINA] If you only went to bed earlier.
IRINA. Is Bobby asleep?
NATASHA. Yes, but restlessly. By the way, dear, I wanted to tell you, but either you weren’t at home, or I was busy… I think Bobby’s present nursery is cold and damp. And your room would be so nice for the child. My dear, darling girl, do change over to Olga’s for a bit!
IRINA. [Not understanding] Where?
[The bells of a troika are heard as it drives up to the house.]
NATASHA. You and Olga can share a room, for the time being, and Bobby can have yours. He’s such a darling; to-day I said to him, “Bobby, you’re mine! Mine!” And he looked at me with his dear little eyes. [A bell rings] It must be Olga. How late she is! [The maid enters and whispers to NATASHA] Protopopov? What a queer man to do such a thing. Protopopov’s come and wants me to go for a drive with him in his troika. [Laughs] How funny these men are…. [A bell rings] Somebody has come. Suppose I did go and have half an hour’s drive…. [To the maid] Say I shan’t be long. [Bell rings] Somebody’s ringing, it must be Olga. [Exit.]
[The maid runs out; IRINA sits deep in thought; KULIGIN and OLGA enter, followed by VERSHININ.]
KULIGIN. Well, there you are. And you said there was going to be a party.
VERSHININ. It’s queer; I went away not long ago, half an hour ago, and they were expecting entertainers.
IRINA. They’ve all gone.
KULIGIN. Has Masha gone too? Where has she gone? And what’s Protopopov waiting for downstairs in his troika? Whom is he expecting?
IRINA. Don’t ask questions… I’m tired.
KULIGIN. Oh, you’re all whimsies….
OLGA. My committee meeting is only just over. I’m tired out. Our chairwoman is ill, so I had to take her place. My head, my head is aching…. [Sits] Andrey lost 200 roubles at cards yesterday… the whole town is talking about it….
KULIGIN. Yes, my meeting tired me too. [Sits.]
VERSHININ. My wife took it into her head to frighten me just now by nearly poisoning herself. It’s all right now, and I’m glad; I can rest now…. But perhaps we ought to go away? Well, my best wishes, Feodor Ilitch, let’s go somewhere together! I can’t, I absolutely can’t stop at home…. Come on!
KULIGIN. I’m tired. I won’t go. [Gets up] I’m tired. Has my wife gone home?
IRINA. I suppose so.
KULIGIN. [Kisses IRINA’S hand] Goodbye, I’m going to rest all day tomorrow and the day after. Best wishes! [Going] I should like some tea. I was looking forward to spending the whole evening in pleasant company and — o, fallacem hominum spem!… Accusative case after an interjection….
VERSHININ. Then I’ll go somewhere by myself. [Exit with KULIGIN, whistling.]
OLGA. I’ve such a headache… Andrey has been losing money…. The whole town is talking…. I’ll go and lie down. [Going] I’m free tomorrow…. Oh, my God, what a mercy! I’m free tomorrow, I’m free the day after…. Oh my head, my head…. [Exit.]
IRINA. [alone] They’ve all gone. Nobody’s left.
[A concertina is being played in the street. The nurse sings.]
NATASHA. [in fur coat and cap, steps across the dining-room, followed by the maid] I’ll be back in half an hour. I’m only going for a little drive. [Exit.]
IRINA. [Alone in her misery] To Moscow! Moscow! Moscow!
Curtain.
ACT III
[The room shared by OLGA and IRINA. Beds, screened off, on the right and left. It is past 2 a.m. Behind the stage a fire-alarm is ringing; it has apparently been going for some time. Nobody in the house has gone to bed yet. MASHA is lying on a sofa dressed, as usual, in black. Enter OLGA and ANFISA.]
ANFISA. Now they are downstairs, sitting under the stairs. I said to them, “Won’t you come up,” I said, “You can’t go on like this,” and they simply cried, “We don’t know where father is.” They said, “He may be burnt up by now.” What an idea! And in the yard there are some people… also undressed.
OLGA. [Takes a dress out of the cupboard] Take this grey dress…. And this… and the blouse as well…. Take the skirt, too, nurse…. My God! How awful it is! The whole of the Kirsanovsky Road seems to have burned down. Take this… and this…. [Throws clothes into her hands] The poor Vershinins are so frightened…. Their house was nearly burnt. They ought to come here for the night…. They shouldn’t be allowed to go home…. Poor Fedotik is completely burnt out, there’s nothing left….
ANFISA. Couldn’t you call Ferapont, Olga dear. I can hardly manage….
OLGA. [Rings] They’ll never answer…. [At the door] Come here, whoever there is! [Through the open door can be seen a window, red with flame: afire-engine is heard passing the house] How awful this is. And how I’m sick of it! [FERAPONT enters] Take these things down…. The Kolotilin girls are down below… and let them have them. This, too.
FERAPONT. Yes’m. In the year twelve Moscow was burning too. Oh, my God! The Frenchmen were surprised.
OLGA. Go on, go on….
FERAPONT. Yes’m. [Exit.]
OLGA. Nurse, dear, let them have everything. We don’t want anything. Give it all to them, nurse…. I’m tired, I can hardly keep on my legs…. The Vershinins mustn’t be allowed to go home…. The girls can sleep in the drawing-room, and Alexander Ignateyevitch can go downstairs to the Baron’s flat… Fedotik can go there, too, or else into our dining-room…. The doctor is drunk, beastly drunk, as if on purpose, so nobody can go to him. Vershinin’s wife, too, may go into the drawing-room.
ANFISA. [Tired] Olga, dear girl, don’t dismiss me! Don’t dismiss me!
OLGA. You’re talking nonsense, nurse. Nobody is dismissing you.
ANFISA. [Puts OLGA’S head against her bosom] My dear, precious girl, I’m working, I’m toiling away… I’m growing weak, and they’ll all say go away! And where shall I go? Where? I’m eighty. Eighty-one years old….
OLGA. You sit down, nurse dear…. You’re tired, poor dear…. [Makes her sit down] Rest, dear. You’re so pale!
[NATASHA comes in.]
NATASHA. They are saying that a committee to assist the sufferers from the fire must be formed at once. What do you think of that? It’s a beautiful idea. Of course the poor ought to be helped, it’s the duty of the rich. Bobby and little Sophy are sleeping, sleeping as if nothing at all was the matter. There’s such a lot of people here, the place is full of them, wherever you go. There’s influenza in the town