The Collected Works of Anton Chekhov: Plays, Novellas, Short Stories, Diary & Letters. Anton Chekhov
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something to make you stir about. Let the girls admire you for once in their lives! Listen to me! I suppose you want them to like you? Then why don’t try to make them do it? Oh, dear! There is something wrong with you all! You are a lot of sleepy stickin-the-muds! I have told you so a thousand times and shall always go on repeating it; there is something wrong with every one of you; something wrong, wrong, wrong!
Enter IVANOFF and SHABELSKI through the door on the right.
SHABELSKI. Who is making a speech here? Is it you, Sasha? [He laughs and shakes hands with her] Many happy returns of the day, my dear child. May you live as long as possible in this life, but never be born again!
ZINAIDA. [Joyfully] My dear Count!
LEBEDIEFF. Who can this be? Not you, Count?
SHABELSKI. [Sees ZINAIDA and MARTHA sitting side by side] Two gold mines side by side! What a pleasant picture it makes! [He shakes hands with ZINAIDA] Good evening, Zuzu! [Shakes hands with MARTHA] Good evening, Birdie!
ZINAIDA. I am charmed to see you, Count. You are a rare visitor here now. [Calls] Gabriel, bring some tea! Please sit down.
She gets up and goes to the door and back, evidently much preoccupied. SASHA sits down in her former place. IVANOFF silently shakes hands with every one.
LEBEDIEFF. [To SHABELSKI] What miracle has brought you here? You have given us a great surprise. Why, Count, you’re a rascal, you haven’t been treating us right at all. [Leads him forward by the hand] Tell me, why don’t you ever come to see us now? Are you offended?
SHABELSKI. How can I get here to see you? Astride a broomstick? I have no horses of my own, and Nicholas won’t take me with him when he goes out. He says I must stay at home to amuse Sarah. Send your horses for me and I shall come with pleasure.
LEBE DIEFF. [With a wave of the hand] Oh, that is easy to say! But Zuzu would rather have a fit than lend the horses to any one. My dear, dear old friend, you are more to me than any one I know! You and I are survivors of those good old days that are gone forever, and you alone bring back to my mind the love and longings of my lost youth. Of course I am only joking, and yet, do you know, I am almost in tears?
SHABELSKI. Stop, stop! You smell like the air of a wine cellar.
LEBEDIEFF. Dear friend, you cannot imagine how lonely I am without my old companions! I could hang myself! [Whispers] Zuzu has frightened all the decent men away with her stingy ways, and now we have only this riffraff, as you see: Tom, Dick, and Harry. However, drink your tea.
ZINAIDA. [Anxiously, to GABRIEL] Don’t bring it in like that! Go fetch some jam to eat with it!
SHABELSKI. [Laughing loudly, to IVANOFF] Didn’t I tell you so? [To LEBEDIEFF] I bet him driving over, that as soon as we arrived Zuzu would want to feed us with jam!
ZINAIDA. Still joking, Count! [She sits down.]
LEBEDIEFF. She made twenty jars of it this year, and how else do you expect her to get rid of it?
SHABELSKI. [Sits down near the table] Are you still adding to the hoard, Zuzu? You will soon have a million, eh?
ZINAIDA. [Sighing] I know it seems as if no one could be richer than we, but where do they think the money comes from? It is all gossip.
SHABELSKI. Oh, yes, we all know that! We know how badly you play your cards! Tell me, Paul, honestly, have you saved up a million yet?
LEBEDIEFF. I don’t know. Ask Zuzu.
SHABELSKI. [To MARTHA] And my plump little Birdie here will soon have a million too! She is getting prettier and plumper not only every day, but every hour. That means she has a nice little fortune.
MARTHA. Thank you very much, your highness, but I don’t like such jokes.
SHABELSKI. My dear little gold mine, do you call that a joke? It was a wail of the soul, a cry from the heart, that burst through my lips. My love for you and Zuzu is immense. [Gaily] Oh, rapture! Oh, bliss! I cannot look at you two without a madly beating heart!
ZINAIDA. You are still the same, Count. [To GEORGE] Put out the candles please, George. [GEORGE gives a start. He puts out the candles and sits down again] How is your wife, Nicholas?
IVANOFF. She is very ill. The doctor said to-day that she certainly had consumption.
ZINAIDA. Really? Oh, how sad! [She sighs] And we are all so fond of her!
SHABELSKI. What trash you all talk! That story was invented by that sham doctor, and is nothing but a trick of his. He wants to masquerade as an Aesculapius, and so has started this consumption theory. Fortunately her husband isn’t jealous. [IVANOFF makes an inpatient gesture] As for Sarah, I wouldn’t trust a word or an action of hers. I have made a point all my life of mistrusting all doctors, lawyers, and women. They are shammers and deceivers.
LEBEDIEFF. [To SHABELSKI] You are an extraordinary person, Matthew! You have mounted this misanthropic hobby of yours, and you ride it through thick and thin like a lunatic You are a man like any other, and yet, from the way you talk one would imagine that you had the pip, or a cold in the head.
SHABELSKI. Would you have me go about kissing every rascal and scoundrel I meet?
LEBEDIEFF. Where do you find all these rascals and scoundrels?
SHABELSKI. Of course I am not talking of any one here present, nevertheless —— -
LEBEDIEFF. There you are again with your “nevertheless.” All this is simply a fancy of yours.
SHABELSKI. A fancy? It is lucky for you that you have no knowledge of the world!
LEBEDIEFF. My knowledge of the world is this: I must sit here prepared at any moment to have death come knocking at the door. That is my knowledge of the world. At our age, brother, you and I can’t afford to worry about knowledge of the world. So then — [He calls] Oh, Gabriel!
SHABELSKI. You have had quite enough already. Look at your nose.
LEBEDIEFF. No matter, old boy. I am not going to be married to-day.
ZINAIDA. Doctor Lvoff has not been here for a long time. He seems to have forgotten us.
SASHA. That man is one of my aversions. I can’t stand his icy sense of honour. He can’t ask for a glass of water or smoke a cigarette without making a display of his remarkable honesty. Walking and talking, it is written on his brow: “I am an honest man.” He is a great bore.
SHABELSKI. He is a narrow-minded, conceited medico. [Angrily] He shrieks like a parrot at every step: “Make way for honest endeavour!” and thinks himself another St. Francis. Everybody is a rascal who doesn’t make as much noise as he does. As for his penetration, it is simply remarkable! If a peasant is well off and lives decently, he sees at once that he must be a thief and a scoundrel. If I wear a velvet coat and am dressed by my valet, I am a rascal and the valet is my slave. There is no place in this world for a man like him. I am actually afraid of him. Yes, indeed, he is likely, out of a sense of duty, to insult a man at any moment and to call him a knave.
IVANOFF. I am dreadfully tired of him, but I can’t help liking him, too, he is so sincere.
SHABELSKI. Oh, yes, his sincerity is beautiful! He came up to me yesterday evening and remarked absolutely apropos of nothing: “Count, I have a deep aversion to you!” It isn’t as if he said such things simply, but they are extremely pointed. His voice trembles, his eyes flash, his veins swell. Confound his infernal honesty! Supposing I am disgusting and odious to him? What is more natural? I know that I am, but I don’t like to be told so to my face. I am a worthless old man, but he might have the decency to respect my grey hairs. Oh, what stupid, heartless honesty!
LEBEDIEFF. Come, come, you have been young yourself, and should make allowances for him.
SHABELSKI. Yes, I have been young and reckless; I have played the fool in my day and have seen plenty of knaves and scamps, but I have never called a thief a thief to his face, or talked of ropes in the house of a man who had been hung. I knew how to behave, but this