Anton Chekhov: Plays, Short Stories, Diary & Letters (Collected Edition). Anton Chekhov
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Instead of worrying me with all your talk, you’d do better to go and dance!
Aplombov: I'm not Spinosa anyhow, to make cracknels of my legs. I'm a man of position and character, and I don’t find any distraction in empty pleasures. But this has nothing to do with dancing. Excuse me, Mama, but I don’t understand a lot of your behaviour. For instance, besides all the things for the house, you promised to give me your two lottery-tickets with your daughter. Where are they?
Nastasia: How my head aches! — If this weather keeps on, there ought to be a thaw.
Aplombov: You won’t wear my teeth out with talking! I found out to-day that your tickets were pledged at the bank. Excuse me, Mama, but only exploiters behave like that. Now, I'm not speaking from selfishness — I don’t want your tickets! — but from principle; I don’t let anybody deceive me. I’ve made your daughter happy, and, if you don’t hand me over those tickets to-day, I’ll eat your daughter with pudding! I’m a man of noble feelings.
Nastasia (looking at the table and counting the places): One, two, three, four, five ——
Servant: The cook wants to know how you order the ices to be served, with rum, with madeira, or without anything.
Aplombov: With rum. And tell the proprietor there’s only a little wine. Tell him to send up some Haut-Sauterne. (To Nastasia.) And you promised and we agreed that a general would be at the supper to-night. Where is he, I should like to know.
Nastasia: It’s not my fault, my dear!
Aplombov: Whose, then?
Nastasia: Andrew’s fault. Yesterday he was here and promised to bring a real general. (Sighs.) He can’t have found one or he’d have brought him. You don’t think we begrudge the expense? We grudge our children nothing. But, after all, what’s a general!
Aplombov: Well again, surely you knew, Mama, that this telegraph fellow, Yat, was running after Dashenka until I proposed to her? Why did you invite him? Didn’t you really know that lie’s an enemy of mine?
Nastasia: Oh, Epaminondas, what’s the matter with you? The wedding-day isn’t over yet and already you’re tiring me and Dashenka to death with your talking. What will it be like as time goes on? You’re wearisome, wearisome.
Aplombov: It isn’t nice to hear the truth? Ha, ha. There you are. But act nobly! Only one thing I ask of you — be noble! (Through the room, from one door to the other couples pass, dancing the grand-chain. The first couple is Dashenka and the Master of Ceremonies, behind them Yat and Zmewkin. They stop dancing and stay in the room. Enter Jigalov and Dimba, and go to the table.)
Master of Ceremonies: Promenade! Messieu’s, promenade! (Off.) Promenade! (Exeunt the couples.)
Yat: Be merciful! Be merciful, enchanting Miss Zmewkin!
Zmewkin: Oh! what a man you are! I’ve told you already I'm not in voice.
Yat: I entreat you, sing! Only one note! Be merciful! Only one note!
Zmewkin: I’m tired. (Sits down and fans herself.)
Yat: No, you’re simply pitiless! Such an inhuman creature, permit me to use the expression, and such a wonderful, wonderful voice. With a voice like that, excuse the expression, you ought not to be an accoucheuse, but singing at public concerts. For instance, how divinely the trills emerge from you in that one (sings): “I loved you, my love is yet in vain.” — Wonderful!
Zmewkin (sings): “I loved you, perhaps I still may love.” — That one?
Yat: That’s the one! Wonderful!
Zmewkin: No, I’m not in voice to-day. Take my fan, fan me; it’s so hot. (To Aplombov.) Why are you so melancholy? Can a bridegroom really be like that? Aren’t you ashamed, you contrary man? What are you thinking about?
Aplombov : Marriage is a serious step. You have to consider everything from all points of view ——
Zmewkin: How contrary you all are! What sceptics! Beside you I feel stifled! Give me atmosphere! Do you hear? Give me atmosphere! (Sings.)
Yat: Wonderful. Wonderful!
Zmewkin: Fan me, fan me! I feel my heart is just going to break. Tell me, please; why do I feel so hot?
Yat: Because you perspire.
Zmewkin: Pfui! What a vulgar creature you are! Don’t dare speak to me like that!
Yat: I beg your pardon. You have been used, I know, to, excuse the expression, aristocratic company, and ——
Zmewkin: Oh! let me be! Give me poetry, ecstasy! Fan me! Fan me!
Jigalov (to Dimba): We’ll have another, eh? I can drink any time. The chief thing, Dimba, is not to forget one’s affairs. Drink, and understand your affairs! And as for drinking, why not drink ? Drinking’s allowed; your health! (Drinks.) Tell me, have you got tigers in Greece?
Dimba: Yes.
Jigalov: And lions?
Dimba: Yes, lions too. In Russia there is nothing, but in Greece everything. My father's there and my uncle and my brothers, and here nothing.
Jigalov: But have you got whales in Greece?
Dimba: We've everything there.
Nastasia (to her husband): Why all this random drinking and eating? It’s time we all sat down. Don’t stick a fork in the lobster! It’s for the general. Perhaps he’ll come after all.
Jigalov: Have you got lobsters in Greece?
Dimba: Yes, we've everything there.
Zmewkin: I’m just thinking—what atmosphere in Greece!
Jigalov: And probably a lot of trickery. Greeks are all just the same as Armenians and gypsies. They’ll give you a sponge or a goldfish, but all the time they’re watching their chance to relieve you of your superfluities. We’ll have another, eh?
Nastasia: What are all these anothers? It’s time we all sat down. It’s twelve o’clock.
Jigalov: Sit down, then, sit down! (Calls.) Ladies and gentlemen, I humbly entreat you. Please. Supper! Young people!
Nastasia: Welcome, dear guests. Be seated.
Zmewkin (sits at the table): Give me poetry! “But ah! the rebel, sought the storm, as in the storm were peace.” Give me storm!
Yat (aside): Remarkable woman! I’m in love — up to the ears in love! (Enter the company. They take their seats noisily at the table; a minute’s pause, the band plays a march.)
Mozgovy (in the uniform of a naval volunteer, rising): Ladies and gentlemen! I must tell you this; there are many toasts and speeches waiting for us. We won’t wait. We’ll begin at once. Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to drink a toast to the bride and bridegroom. (The band plays a flourish. “Hurrah!” Clinking of glasses.)
Mozgovy: It’s bitter!
All: Bitter! Bitter! (Aplombov and Dashenka kiss.)
Yat: Wonderful, wonderful! I must express to you, ladies and gentlemen, with the utmost veracity, that this room and the place in general are magnificent. Superlatively enchanting. — But do you know why it does not partake of a complete triumph? There’s no electric light, excuse the expression. Electric light has been introduced already in all countries; only Russia is left behind.
Jigalov (thoughtfully): Electric — h’m. But to my idea, electric light is just trickery. They put a little bit of coal there and think they can deceive your eyes with it. No, friend, if you give light, then don’t give coal, but something real, something special, something you can take hold of. Give a light, you understand, a light which is something and not simply an idea.
Yat: