Anton Chekhov: Plays, Short Stories, Diary & Letters (Collected Edition). Anton Chekhov
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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.
THE CHERRY ORCHARD
CHARACTERS
LUBOV ANDREYEVNA RANEVSKY (Mme. RANEVSKY), a landowner
ANYA, her daughter, aged seventeen
VARYA (BARBARA), her adopted daughter, aged twenty-seven
LEONID ANDREYEVITCH GAEV, Mme. Ranevsky’s brother
ERMOLAI ALEXEYEVITCH LOPAKHIN, a merchant
PETER SERGEYEVITCH TROFIMOV, a student
BORIS BORISOVITCH SIMEONOV-PISCHIN, a landowner
CHARLOTTA IVANOVNA, a governess
SIMEON PANTELEYEVITCH EPIKHODOV, a clerk
DUNYASHA (AVDOTYA FEDOROVNA), a maidservant
FIERS, an old footman, aged eighty-seven
YASHA, a young footman
A TRAMP
A STATIONMASTER
POST-OFFICE CLERK
GUESTS
A SERVANT
The action takes place on Mme. RANEVSKY’S estate
ACT ONE
[A room which is still called the nursery. One of the doors leads into ANYA’S room. It is close on sunrise. It is May. The cherry-trees are in flower but it is chilly in the garden. There is an early frost. The windows of the room are shut. DUNYASHA comes in with a candle, and LOPAKHIN with a book in his hand.]
LOPAKHIN. The train’s arrived, thank God. What’s the time?
DUNYASHA. It will soon be two. [Blows out candle] It is light already.
LOPAKHIN. How much was the train late? Two hours at least. [Yawns and stretches himself] I have made a rotten mess of it! I came here on purpose to meet them at the station, and then overslept myself… in my chair. It’s a pity. I wish you’d wakened me.
DUNYASHA. I thought you’d gone away. [Listening] I think I hear them coming.
LOPAKHIN. [Listens] No…. They’ve got to collect their luggage and so on…. [Pause] Lubov Andreyevna has been living abroad for five years; I don’t know what she’ll be like now…. She’s a good sort — an easy, simple person. I remember when I was a boy of fifteen, my father, who is dead — he used to keep a shop in the village here — hit me on the face with his fist, and my nose bled…. We had gone into the yard together for something or other, and he was a little drunk. Lubov Andreyevna, as I remember her now, was still young, and very thin, and she took me to the washstand here in this very room, the nursery. She said, “Don’t cry, little man, it’ll be all right in time for your wedding.” [Pause] “Little man”…. My father was a peasant, it’s true, but here I am in a white waistcoat and yellow shoes… a pearl out of an oyster. I’m rich now, with lots of money, but just think about it and examine me, and you’ll find I’m still a peasant down to the marrow of my bones. [Turns over the pages of his book] Here I’ve been reading this book, but I understood nothing. I read and fell asleep. [Pause.]
DUNYASHA. The dogs didn’t sleep all night; they know that they’re coming.
LOPAKHIN. What’s up with you, Dunyasha…?
DUNYASHA. My hands are shaking. I shall faint.
LOPAKHIN. You’re too sensitive, Dunyasha. You dress just like a lady, and you do your hair like one too. You oughtn’t. You should know your place.
EPIKHODOV. [Enters with a bouquet. He wears a short jacket and brilliantly polished boots which squeak audibly. He drops the bouquet as he enters, then picks it up] The gardener sent these; says they’re to go into the dining-room. [Gives the bouquet to DUNYASHA.]
LOPAKHIN. And you’ll bring me some kvass.
DUNYASHA. Very