Anton Chekhov: Plays, Short Stories, Diary & Letters (Collected Edition). Anton Chekhov
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long abandoned; near it a well and large stones, which apparently are old tombstones, and an old garden seat. The road is seen to GAEV’S estate. On one side rise dark poplars, behind them begins the cherry orchard. In the distance is a row of telegraph poles, and far, far away on the horizon are the indistinct signs of a large town, which can only be seen on the finest and clearest days. It is close on sunset. CHARLOTTA, YASHA, and DUNYASHA are sitting on the seat; EPIKHODOV stands by and plays on a guitar; all seem thoughtful. CHARLOTTA wears a man’s old peaked cap; she has unslung a rifle from her shoulders and is putting to rights the buckle on the strap.]
CHARLOTTA. [Thoughtfully] I haven’t a real passport. I don’t know how old I am, and I think I’m young. When I was a little girl my father and mother used to go round fairs and give very good performances and I used to do the salto mortale and various little things. And when papa and mamma died a German lady took me to her and began to teach me. I liked it. I grew up and became a governess. And where I came from and who I am, I don’t know…. Who my parents were — perhaps they weren’t married — I don’t know. [Takes a cucumber out of her pocket and eats] I don’t know anything. [Pause] I do want to talk, but I haven’t anybody to talk to… I haven’t anybody at all.
EPIKHODOV. [Plays on the guitar and sings]
“What is this noisy earth to me,
What matter friends and foes?”
I do like playing on the mandoline!
DUNYASHA. That’s a guitar, not a mandoline. [Looks at herself in a little mirror and powders herself.]
EPIKHODOV. For the enamoured madman, this is a mandoline. [Sings]
“Oh that the heart was warmed,
By all the flames of love returned!”
[YASHA sings too.]
CHARLOTTA. These people sing terribly…. Foo! Like jackals.
DUNYASHA. [To YASHA] Still, it must be nice to live abroad.
YASHA. Yes, certainly. I cannot differ from you there. [Yawns and lights a cigar.]
EPIKHODOV. That is perfectly natural. Abroad everything is in full complexity.
YASHA. That goes without saying.
EPIKHODOV. I’m an educated man, I read various remarkable books, but I cannot understand the direction I myself want to go — whether to live or to shoot myself, as it were. So, in case, I always carry a revolver about with me. Here it is. [Shows a revolver.]
CHARLOTTA. I’ve done. Now I’ll go. [Slings the rifle] You, Epikhodov, are a very clever man and very terrible; women must be madly in love with you. Brrr! [Going] These wise ones are all so stupid. I’ve nobody to talk to. I’m always alone, alone; I’ve nobody at all… and I don’t know who I am or why I live. [Exit slowly.]
EPIKHODOV. As a matter of fact, independently of everything else, I must express my feeling, among other things, that fate has been as pitiless in her dealings with me as a storm is to a small ship. Suppose, let us grant, I am wrong; then why did I wake up this morning, to give an example, and behold an enormous spider on my chest, like that. [Shows with both hands] And if I do drink some kvass, why is it that there is bound to be something of the most indelicate nature in it, such as a beetle? [Pause] Have you read Buckle? [Pause] I should like to trouble you, Avdotya Fedorovna, for two words.
DUNYASHA. Say on.
EPIKHODOV. I should prefer to be alone with you. [Sighs.]
DUNYASHA. [Shy] Very well, only first bring me my little cloak…. It’s by the cupboard. It’s a little damp here.
EPIKHODOV. Very well… I’ll bring it…. Now I know what to do with my revolver. [Takes guitar and exits, strumming.]
YASHA. Two-and-twenty troubles! A silly man, between you and me and the gatepost. [Yawns.]
DUNYASHA. I hope to goodness he won’t shoot himself. [Pause] I’m so nervous, I’m worried. I went into service when I was quite a little girl, and now I’m not used to common life, and my hands are white, white as a lady’s. I’m so tender and so delicate now; respectable and afraid of everything…. I’m so frightened. And I don’t know what will happen to my nerves if you deceive me, Yasha.
YASHA. [Kisses her] Little cucumber! Of course, every girl must respect herself; there’s nothing I dislike more than a badly behaved girl.
DUNYASHA. I’m awfully in love with you; you’re educated, you can talk about everything. [Pause.]
YASHA. [Yawns] Yes. I think this: if a girl loves anybody, then that means she’s immoral. [Pause] It’s nice to smoke a cigar out in the open air…. [Listens] Somebody’s coming. It’s the mistress, and people with her. [DUNYASHA embraces him suddenly] Go to the house, as if you’d been bathing in the river; go by this path, or they’ll meet you and will think I’ve been meeting you. I can’t stand that sort of thing.
DUNYASHA. [Coughs quietly] My head’s aching because of your cigar.
[Exit. YASHA remains, sitting by the shrine. Enter LUBOV ANDREYEVNA, GAEV, and LOPAKHIN.]
LOPAKHIN. You must make up your mind definitely — there’s no time to waste. The question is perfectly plain. Are you willing to let the land for villas or no? Just one word, yes or no? Just one word!
LUBOV. Who’s smoking horrible cigars here? [Sits.]
GAEV. They built that railway; that’s made this place very handy. [Sits] Went to town and had lunch… red in the middle! I’d like to go in now and have just one game.
LUBOV. You’ll have time.
LOPAKHIN. Just one word! [Imploringly] Give me an answer!
GAEV. [Yawns] Really!
LUBOV. [Looks in her purse] I had a lot of money yesterday, but there’s very little to-day. My poor Varya feeds everybody on milk soup to save money, in the kitchen the old people only get peas, and I spend recklessly. [Drops the purse, scattering gold coins] There, they are all over the place.
YASHA. Permit me to pick them up. [Collects the coins.]
LUBOV. Please do, Yasha. And why did I go and have lunch there?… A horrid restaurant with band and tablecloths smelling of soap…. Why do you drink so much, Leon? Why do you eat so much? Why do you talk so much? You talked again too much to-day in the restaurant, and it wasn’t at all to the point — about the seventies and about decadents. And to whom? Talking to the waiters about decadents!
LOPAKHIN. Yes.
GAEV. [Waves his hand] I can’t be cured, that’s obvious…. [Irritably to YASHA] What’s the matter? Why do you keep twisting about in front of me?
YASHA. [Laughs] I can’t listen to your voice without laughing.
GAEV. [To his sister] Either he or I…
LUBOV. Go away, Yasha; get out of this….
YASHA. [Gives purse to LUBOV ANDREYEVNA] I’ll go at once. [Hardly able to keep from laughing] This minute…. [Exit.]
LOPAKHIN. That rich man Deriganov is preparing to buy your estate. They say he’ll come to the sale himself.
LUBOV. Where did you hear that?
LOPAKHIN. They say so in town.
GAEV. Our Yaroslav aunt has promised to send something, but I don’t know when or how much.
LOPAKHIN. How much will she send? A hundred thousand roubles? Or two, perhaps?
LUBOV. I’d be glad of ten or fifteen thousand.
LOPAKHIN. You must excuse my saying so, but I’ve never met such frivolous people as you before, or anybody so unbusinesslike and peculiar. Here I am telling you in plain language that your estate will be sold, and you don’t seem to understand.
LUBOV. What are we to do? Tell us, what?
LOPAKHIN.