Anton Chekhov: Plays, Short Stories, Diary & Letters (Collected Edition). Anton Chekhov
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FIERS. They’ve forgotten. Nobody remembers.
PISCHIN. [To LUBOV ANDREYEVNA] What about Paris? Eh? Did you eat frogs?
LUBOV. I ate crocodiles.
PISCHIN. To think of that, now.
LOPAKHIN. Up to now in the villages there were only the gentry and the labourers, and now the people who live in villas have arrived. All towns now, even small ones, are surrounded by villas. And it’s safe to say that in twenty years’ time the villa resident will be all over the place. At present he sits on his balcony and drinks tea, but it may well come to pass that he’ll begin to cultivate his patch of land, and then your cherry orchard will be happy, rich, splendid….
GAEV. [Angry] What rot!
[Enter VARYA and YASHA.]
VARYA. There are two telegrams for you, little mother. [Picks out a key and noisily unlocks an antique cupboard] Here they are.
LUBOV. They’re from Paris…. [Tears them up without reading them] I’ve done with Paris.
GAEV. And do you know, Luba, how old this case is? A week ago I took out the bottom drawer; I looked and saw figures burnt out in it. That case was made exactly a hundred years ago. What do you think of that? What? We could celebrate its jubilee. It hasn’t a soul of its own, but still, say what you will, it’s a fine bookcase.
PISCHIN. [Astonished] A hundred years…. Think of that!
GAEV. Yes… it’s a real thing. [Handling it] My dear and honoured case! I congratulate you on your existence, which has already for more than a hundred years been directed towards the bright ideals of good and justice; your silent call to productive labour has not grown less in the hundred years [Weeping] during which you have upheld virtue and faith in a better future to the generations of our race, educating us up to ideals of goodness and to the knowledge of a common consciousness. [Pause.]
LOPAKHIN. Yes….
LUBOV. You’re just the same as ever, Leon.
GAEV. [A little confused] Off the white on the right, into the corner pocket. Red ball goes into the middle pocket!
LOPAKHIN. [Looks at his watch] It’s time I went.
YASHA. [Giving LUBOV ANDREYEVNA her medicine] Will you take your pills now?
PISCHIN. You oughtn’t to take medicines, dear madam; they do you neither harm nor good…. Give them here, dear madam. [Takes the pills, turns them out into the palm of his hand, blows on them, puts them into his mouth, and drinks some kvass] There!
LUBOV. [Frightened] You’re off your head!
PISCHIN. I’ve taken all the pills.
LOPAKHIN. Gormandizer! [All laugh.]
FIERS. They were here in Easter week and ate half a pailful of cucumbers…. [Mumbles.]
LUBOV. What’s he driving at?
VARYA. He’s been mumbling away for three years. We’re used to that.
YASHA. Senile decay.
[CHARLOTTA IVANOVNA crosses the stage, dressed in white: she is very thin and tightly laced; has a lorgnette at her waist.]
LOPAKHIN. Excuse me, Charlotta Ivanovna, I haven’t said “How do you do” to you yet. [Tries to kiss her hand.]
CHARLOTTA. [Takes her hand away] If you let people kiss your hand, then they’ll want your elbow, then your shoulder, and then…
LOPAKHIN. My luck’s out to-day! [All laugh] Show us a trick, Charlotta Ivanovna!
LUBOV ANDREYEVNA. Charlotta, do us a trick.
CHARLOTTA. It’s not necessary. I want to go to bed. [Exit.]
LOPAKHIN. We shall see each other in three weeks. [Kisses LUBOV ANDREYEVNA’S hand] Now, goodbye. It’s time to go. [To GAEV] See you again. [Kisses PISCHIN] Au revoir. [Gives his hand to VARYA, then to FIERS and to YASHA] I don’t want to go away. [To LUBOV ANDREYEVNA]. If you think about the villas and make up your mind, then just let me know, and I’ll raise a loan of 50,000 roubles at once. Think about it seriously.
VARYA. [Angrily] Do go, now!
LOPAKHIN. I’m going, I’m going…. [Exit.]
GAEV. Snob. Still, I beg pardon…. Varya’s going to marry him, he’s Varya’s young man.
VARYA. Don’t talk too much, uncle.
LUBOV. Why not, Varya? I should be very glad. He’s a good man.
PISCHIN. To speak the honest truth… he’s a worthy man…. And my Dashenka… also says that… she says lots of things. [Snores, but wakes up again at once] But still, dear madam, if you could lend me… 240 roubles… to pay the interest on my mortgage tomorrow…
VARYA. [Frightened] We haven’t got it, we haven’t got it!
LUBOV. It’s quite true. I’ve nothing at all.
PISCHIN. I’ll find it all right [Laughs] I never lose hope. I used to think, “Everything’s lost now. I’m a dead man,” when, lo and behold, a railway was built over my land… and they paid me for it. And something else will happen to-day or tomorrow. Dashenka may win 20,000 roubles… she’s got a lottery ticket.
LUBOV. The coffee’s all gone, we can go to bed.
FIERS. [Brushing GAEV’S trousers; in an insistent tone] You’ve put on the wrong trousers again. What am I to do with you?
VARYA. [Quietly] Anya’s asleep. [Opens window quietly] The sun has risen already; it isn’t cold. Look, little mother: what lovely trees! And the air! The starlings are singing!
GAEV. [Opens the other window] The whole garden’s white. You haven’t forgotten, Luba? There’s that long avenue going straight, straight, like a stretched strap; it shines on moonlight nights. Do you remember? You haven’t forgotten?
LUBOV. [Looks out into the garden] Oh, my childhood, days of my innocence! In this nursery I used to sleep; I used to look out from here into the orchard. Happiness used to wake with me every morning, and then it was just as it is now; nothing has changed. [Laughs from joy] It’s all, all white! Oh, my orchard! After the dark autumns and the cold winters, you’re young again, full of happiness, the angels of heaven haven’t left you…. If only I could take my heavy burden off my breast and shoulders, if I could forget my past!
GAEV. Yes, and they’ll sell this orchard to pay off debts. How strange it seems!
LUBOV. Look, there’s my dead mother going in the orchard… dressed in white! [Laughs from joy] That’s she.
GAEV. Where?
VARYA. God bless you, little mother.
LUBOV. There’s nobody there; I thought I saw somebody. On the right, at the turning by the summer-house, a white little tree bent down, looking just like a woman. [Enter TROFIMOV in a worn student uniform and spectacles] What a marvellous garden! White masses of flowers, the blue sky….
TROFIMOV. Lubov Andreyevna! [She looks round at him] I only want to show myself, and I’ll go away. [Kisses her hand warmly] I was told to wait till the morning, but I didn’t have the patience.
[LUBOV ANDREYEVNA looks surprised.]
VARYA. [Crying] It’s Peter Trofimov.
TROFIMOV. Peter Trofimov, once the tutor of your Grisha…. Have I changed so much?
[LUBOV ANDREYEVNA embraces him and cries softly.]
GAEV. [Confused] That’s enough, that’s enough, Luba.
VARYA. [Weeps] But I told you, Peter, to wait till tomorrow.
LUBOV. My Grisha… my boy… Grisha… my son.
VARYA. What are we to do, little mother? It’s the will of God.