The Collected Works of Anton Chekhov. Anton Chekhov

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The Collected Works of Anton Chekhov - Anton Chekhov


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emotion, then embraces MASHA once more and goes out quickly.]

      OLGA. Don’t, Masha! Stop, dear…. [KULIGIN enters.]

      KULIGIN. [Confused] Never mind, let her cry, let her…. My dear Masha, my good Masha…. You’re my wife, and I’m happy, whatever happens… I’m not complaining, I don’t reproach you at all…. Olga is a witness to it. Let’s begin to live again as we used to, and not by a single word, or hint…

      MASHA. [Restraining her sobs] “There stands a green oak by the sea,

       And a chain of bright gold is around it….

       And a chain of bright gold is around it….”

       I’m going off my head… “There stands… a green oak… by the sea.”…

      OLGA. Don’t, Masha, don’t… give her some water….

      MASHA. I’m not crying any more….

      KULIGIN. She’s not crying any more… she’s a good… [A shot is heard from a distance.]

      MASHA. “There stands a green oak by the sea,

       And a chain of bright gold is around it…

       An oak of green gold….”

       I’m mixing it up…. [Drinks some water] Life is dull… I don’t want anything more now… I’ll be all right in a moment…. It doesn’t matter…. What do those lines mean? Why do they run in my head? My thoughts are all tangled.

      [IRINA enters.]

      OLGA. Be quiet, Masha. There’s a good girl…. Let’s go in.

      MASHA. [Angrily] I shan’t go in there. [Sobs, but controls herself at once] I’m not going to go into the house, I won’t go….

      IRINA. Let’s sit here together and say nothing. I’m going away tomorrow…. [Pause.]

      KULIGIN. Yesterday I took away these whiskers and this beard from a boy in the third class…. [He puts on the whiskers and beard] Don’t I look like the German master…. [Laughs] Don’t I? The boys are amusing.

      MASHA. You really do look like that German of yours.

      OLGA. [Laughs] Yes. [MASHA weeps.]

      IRINA. Don’t, Masha!

      KULIGIN. It’s a very good likeness….

      [Enter NATASHA.]

      NATASHA. [To the maid] What? Mihail Ivanitch Protopopov will sit with little Sophie, and Andrey Sergeyevitch can take little Bobby out. Children are such a bother…. [To IRINA] Irina, it’s such a pity you’re going away tomorrow. Do stop just another week. [Sees KULIGIN and screams; he laughs and takes off his beard and whiskers] How you frightened me! [To IRINA] I’ve grown used to you and do you think it will be easy for me to part from you? I’m going to have Andrey and his violin put into your room — let him fiddle away in there! — and we’ll put little Sophie into his room. The beautiful, lovely child! What a little girlie! To-day she looked at me with such pretty eyes and said “Mamma!”

      KULIGIN. A beautiful child, it’s quite true.

      NATASHA. That means I shall have the place to myself tomorrow. [Sighs] In the first place I shall have that avenue of fir-trees cut down, then that maple. It’s so ugly at nights…. [To IRINA] That belt doesn’t suit you at all, dear…. It’s an error of taste. And I’ll give orders to have lots and lots of little flowers planted here, and they’ll smell…. [Severely] Why is there a fork lying about here on the seat? [Going towards the house, to the maid] Why is there a fork lying about here on the seat, I say? [Shouts] Don’t you dare to answer me!

      KULIGIN. Temper! temper! [A march is played off; they all listen.]

      OLGA. They’re going.

      [CHEBUTIKIN comes in.]

      MASHA. They’re going. Well, well…. Bon voyage! [To her husband] We must be going home…. Where’s my coat and hat?

      KULIGIN. I took them in… I’ll bring them, in a moment.

      OLGA. Yes, now we can all go home. It’s time.

      CHEBUTIKIN. Olga Sergeyevna!

      OLGA. What is it? [Pause] What is it?

      CHEBUTIKIN. Nothing… I don’t know how to tell you…. [Whispers to her.]

      OLGA. [Frightened] It can’t be true!

      CHEBUTIKIN. Yes… such a story… I’m tired out, exhausted, I won’t say any more…. [Sadly] Still, it’s all the same!

      MASHA. What’s happened?

      OLGA. [Embraces IRINA] This is a terrible day… I don’t know how to tell you, dear….

      IRINA. What is it? Tell me quickly, what is it? For God’s sake! [Cries.]

      CHEBUTIKIN. The Baron was killed in the duel just now.

      IRINA. [Cries softly] I knew it, I knew it….

      CHEBUTIKIN. [Sits on a bench at the back of the stage] I’m tired…. [Takes a paper from his pocket] Let ’em cry…. [Sings softly] “Tararaboom-deay, it is my washing day….” Isn’t it all the same!

      [The three sisters are standing, pressing against one another.]

      MASHA. Oh, how the music plays! They are leaving us, one has quite left us, quite and for ever. We remain alone, to begin our life over again. We must live… we must live….

      IRINA. [Puts her head on OLGA’s bosom] There will come a time when everybody will know why, for what purpose, there is all this suffering, and there will be no more mysteries. But now we must live… we must work, just work! Tomorrow, I’ll go away alone, and I’ll teach and give my whole life to those who, perhaps, need it. It’s autumn now, soon it will be winter, the snow will cover everything, and I shall be working, working….

      OLGA. [Embraces both her sisters] The bands are playing so gaily, so bravely, and one does so want to live! Oh, my God! Time will pass on, and we shall depart for ever, we shall be forgotten; they will forget our faces, voices, and even how many there were of us, but our sufferings will turn into joy for those who will live after us, happiness and peace will reign on earth, and people will remember with kindly words, and bless those who are living now. Oh dear sisters, our life is not yet at an end. Let us live. The music is so gay, so joyful, and, it seems that in a little while we shall know why we are living, why we are suffering…. If we could only know, if we could only know!

      [The music has been growing softer and softer; KULIGIN, smiling happily, brings out the hat and coat; ANDREY wheels out the perambulator in which BOBBY is sitting.]

      CHEBUTIKIN. [Sings softly] “Tara… ra-boom-deay…. It is my washing-day.”… [Reads a paper] It’s all the same! It’s all the same!

      OLGA. If only we could know, if only we could know!

      Curtain.

       Table of Contents

       CHARACTERS

       ACT ONE

       ACT TWO

       ACT THREE

       ACT FOUR

      CHARACTERS


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