The Collected Works of Anton Chekhov: Plays, Novellas, Short Stories, Diary & Letters. Anton Chekhov
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breathe!… Air!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. He’s dead. [Pulls LOMOV’S sleeve] Ivan Vassilevitch! Ivan Vassilevitch! What have you done to me? He’s dead. [Falls into an armchair] A doctor, a doctor! [Hysterics.]
CHUBUKOV. Oh!… What is it? What’s the matter?
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. [Wails] He’s dead… dead!
CHUBUKOV. Who’s dead? [Looks at LOMOV] So he is! My word! Water! A doctor! [Lifts a tumbler to LOMOV’S mouth] Drink this!… No, he doesn’t drink…. It means he’s dead, and all that…. I’m the most unhappy of men! Why don’t I put a bullet into my brain? Why haven’t I cut my throat yet? What am I waiting for? Give me a knife! Give me a pistol! [LOMOV moves] He seems to be coming round…. Drink some water! That’s right….
LOMOV. I see stars… mist…. Where am I?
CHUBUKOV. Hurry up and get married and — well, to the devil with you! She’s willing! [He puts LOMOV’S hand into his daughter’s] She’s willing and all that. I give you my blessing and so on. Only leave me in peace!
LOMOV. [Getting up] Eh? What? To whom?
CHUBUKOV. She’s willing! Well? Kiss and be damned to you!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. [Wails] He’s alive… Yes, yes, I’m willing….
CHUBUKOV. Kiss each other!
LOMOV. Eh? Kiss whom? [They kiss] Very nice, too. Excuse me, what’s it all about? Oh, now I understand… my heart… stars… I’m happy. Natalya Stepanovna…. [Kisses her hand] My foot’s gone to sleep….
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. I… I’m happy too….
CHUBUKOV. What a weight off my shoulders…. Ouf!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. But… still you will admit now that Guess is worse than Squeezer.
LOMOV. Better!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Worse!
CHUBUKOV. Well, that’s a way to start your family bliss! Have some champagne!
LOMOV. He’s better!
NATALYA STEPANOVNA. Worse! worse! worse!
CHUBUKOV. [Trying to shout her down] Champagne! Champagne!
CURTAIN.
THE WEDDING [trans. by Julius West]
CHARACTERS
EVDOKIM ZAHAROVITCH ZHIGALOV, a retired Civil Servant.
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA, his wife
DASHENKA, their daughter
EPAMINOND MAXIMOVITCH APLOMBOV, Dashenka’s bridegroom
FYODOR YAKOVLEVITCH REVUNOV-KARAULOV, a retired captain
ANDREY ANDREYEVITCH NUNIN, an insurance agent
ANNA MARTINOVNA ZMEYUKINA, a midwife, aged 30, in a brilliantly red dress
IVAN MIHAILOVITCH YATS, a telegraphist
HARLAMPI SPIRIDONOVITCH DIMBA, a Greek confectioner
DMITRI STEPANOVITCH MOZGOVOY, a sailor of the Imperial Navy (Volunteer Fleet)
GROOMSMEN, GENTLEMEN, WAITERS, ETC.
The scene is laid in one of the rooms of Andronov’s Restaurant
THE WEDDING
[A brilliantly illuminated room. A large table, laid for supper. Waiters in dress-jackets are fussing round the table. An orchestra behind the scene is playing the music of the last figure of a quadrille.]
[ANNA MARTINOVNA ZMEYUKINA, YATS, and a GROOMSMAN cross the stage.]
ZMEYUKINA. No, no, no!
YATS. [Following her] Have pity on us! Have pity!
ZMEYUKINA. No, no, no!
GROOMSMAN. [Chasing them] You can’t go on like this! Where are you off to? What about the grand ronde? Grand ronde, s’il vous plait! [They all go off.]
[Enter NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA and APLOMBOV.]
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. You had much better be dancing than upsetting me with your speeches.
APLOMBOV. I’m not a Spinosa or anybody of that sort, to go making figures-of-eight with my legs. I am a serious man, and I have a character, and I see no amusement in empty pleasures. But it isn’t just a matter of dances. You must excuse me, maman, but there is a good deal in your behaviour which I am unable to understand. For instance, in addition to objects of domestic importance, you promised also to give me, with your daughter, two lottery tickets. Where are they?
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. My head’s aching a little… I expect it’s on account of the weather…. If only it thawed!
APLOMBOV. You won’t get out of it like that. I only found out to-day that those tickets are in pawn. You must excuse me, maman, but it’s only swindlers who behave like that. I’m not doing this out of egoisticism [Note: So in the original] — I don’t want your tickets — but on principle; and I don’t allow myself to be done by anybody. I have made your daughter happy, and if you don’t give me the tickets to-day I’ll make short work of her. I’m an honourable man!
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. [Looks round the table and counts up the covers] One, two, three, four, five…
A WAITER. The cook asks if you would like the ices served with rum, madeira, or by themselves?
APLOMBOV. With rum. And tell the manager that there’s not enough wine. Tell him to prepare some more Haut Sauterne. [To NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA] You also promised and agreed that a general was to be here to supper. And where is he?
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. That isn’t my fault, my dear.
APLOMBOV. Whose fault, then?
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. It’s Andrey Andreyevitch’s fault…. Yesterday he came to see us and promised to bring a perfectly real general. [Sighs] I suppose he couldn’t find one anywhere, or he’d have brought him…. You think we don’t mind? We’d begrudge our child nothing. A general, of course…
APLOMBOV. But there’s more…. Everybody, including yourself, maman, is aware of the fact that Yats, that telegraphist, was after Dashenka before I proposed to her. Why did you invite him? Surely you knew it would be unpleasant for me?
NASTASYA TIMOFEYEVNA. Oh, how can you? Epaminond Maximovitch was married himself only the other day, and you’ve already tired me and Dashenka out with your talk. What will you be like in a year’s time? You are horrid, really horrid.
APLOMBOV. Then you don’t like to hear the truth? Aha! Oh, oh! Then behave honourably. I only want you to do one thing, be honourable!
[Couples dancing the grand ronde come in at one door and out at the other end. The first couple are DASHENKA with one of the GROOMSMEN. The last are YATS and ZMEYUKINA. These two remain behind. ZHIGALOV and DIMBA enter and go up to the table.]
GROOMSMAN. [Shouting] Promenade! Messieurs, promenade! [Behind] Promenade!
[The dancers have all left the scene.]
YATS. [To ZMEYUKINA] Have pity! Have pity, adorable Anna Martinovna.
ZMEYUKINA. Oh, what a man!… I’ve already told you that I’ve no voice to-day.
YATS. I implore you to sing! Just one note! Have pity! Just one note!
ZMEYUKINA. I’m tired of you…. [Sits and fans herself.]
YATS. No, you’re simply heartless! To