Anton Chekhov: Plays, Short Stories, Diary & Letters (Collected Edition). Anton Chekhov
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[With suppressed rapture] When he recites, his eyes shine and his face grows pale. His voice is beautiful and sad, and he has the ways of a poet.
SORIN begins to snore.
DORN. Pleasant dreams!
ARKADINA. Peter!
SORIN. Eh?
ARKADINA. Are you asleep?
SORIN. Not a bit of it. [A pause.]
ARKADINA. You don’t do a thing for your health, brother, but you really ought to.
DORN. The idea of doing anything for one’s health at sixty-five!
SORIN. One still wants to live at sixty-five.
DORN. [Crossly] Ho! Take some camomile tea.
ARKADINA. I think a journey to some watering-place would be good for him.
DORN. Why, yes; he might go as well as not.
ARKADINA. You don’t understand.
DORN. There is nothing to understand in this case; it is quite clear.
MEDVIEDENKO. He ought to give up smoking.
SORIN. What nonsense! [A pause.]
DORN. No, that is not nonsense. Wine and tobacco destroy the individuality. After a cigar or a glass of vodka you are no longer Peter Sorin, but Peter Sorin plus somebody else. Your ego breaks in two: you begin to think of yourself in the third person.
SORIN. It is easy for you to condemn smoking and drinking; you have known what life is, but what about me? I have served in the Department of Justice for twenty-eight years, but I have never lived, I have never had any experiences. You are satiated with life, and that is why you have an inclination for philosophy, but I want to live, and that is why I drink my wine for dinner and smoke cigars, and all.
DORN. One must take life seriously, and to take a cure at sixty-five and regret that one did not have more pleasure in youth is, forgive my saying so, trifling.
MASHA. It must be lunch-time. [She walks away languidly, with a dragging step] My foot has gone to sleep.
DORN. She is going to have a couple of drinks before lunch.
SORIN. The poor soul is unhappy.
DORN. That is a trifle, your honour.
SORIN. You judge her like a man who has obtained all he wants in life.
ARKADINA. Oh, what could be duller than this dear tedium of the country? The air is hot and still, nobody does anything but sit and philosophise about life. It is pleasant, my friends, to sit and listen to you here, but I had rather a thousand times sit alone in the room of a hotel learning a role by heart.
NINA. [With enthusiasm] You are quite right. I understand how you feel.
SORIN. Of course it is pleasanter to live in town. One can sit in one’s library with a telephone at one’s elbow, no one comes in without being first announced by the footman, the streets are full of cabs, and all —
DORN. [Sings]
“Tell her, oh flowers—”
SHAMRAEFF comes in, followed by PAULINA.
SHAMRAEFF. Here they are. How do you do? [He kisses ARKADINA’S hand and then NINA’S] I am delighted to see you looking so well. [To ARKADINA] My wife tells me that you mean to go to town with her to-day. Is that so?
ARKADINA. Yes, that is what I had planned to do.
SHAMRAEFF. Hm — that is splendid, but how do you intend to get there, madam? We are hauling rye to-day, and all the men are busy. What horses would you take?
ARKADINA. What horses? How do I know what horses we shall have?
SORIN. Why, we have the carriage horses.
SHAMRAEFF. The carriage horses! And where am I to find the harness for them? This is astonishing! My dear madam, I have the greatest respect for your talents, and would gladly sacrifice ten years of my life for you, but I cannot let you have any horses to-day.
ARKADINA. But if I must go to town? What an extraordinary state of affairs!
SHAMRAEFF. You do not know, madam, what it is to run a farm.
ARKADINA. [In a burst of anger] That is an old story! Under these circumstances I shall go back to Moscow this very day. Order a carriage for me from the village, or I shall go to the station on foot.
SHAMRAEFF. [losing his temper] Under these circumstances I resign my position. You must find yourself another manager. [He goes out.]
ARKADINA. It is like this every summer: every summer I am insulted here. I shall never set foot here again.
She goes out to the left, in the direction of the wharf. In a few minutes she is seen entering the house, followed by TRIGORIN, who carries a bucket and fishing-rod.
SORIN. [Losing his temper] What the deuce did he mean by his impudence? I want all the horses brought here at once!
NINA. [To PAULINA] How could he refuse anything to Madame Arkadina, the famous actress? Is not every wish, every caprice even, of hers, more important than any farm work? This is incredible.
PAULINA. [In despair] What can I do about it? Put yourself in my place and tell me what I can do.
SORIN. [To NINA] Let us go and find my sister, and all beg her not to go. [He looks in the direction in which SHAMRAEFF went out] That man is insufferable; a regular tyrant.
NINA. [Preventing him from getting up] Sit still, sit still, and let us wheel you. [She and MEDVIEDENKO push the chair before them] This is terrible!
SORIN. Yes, yes, it is terrible; but he won’t leave. I shall have a talk with him in a moment. [They go out. Only DORN and PAULINA are left.]
DORN. How tiresome people are! Your husband deserves to be thrown out of here neck and crop, but it will all end by this old granny Sorin and his sister asking the man’s pardon. See if it doesn’t.
PAULINA. He has sent the carriage horses into the fields too. These misunderstandings occur every day. If you only knew how they excite me! I am ill; see! I am trembling all over! I cannot endure his rough ways. [Imploringly] Eugene, my darling, my beloved, take me to you. Our time is short; we are no longer young; let us end deception and concealment, even though it is only at the end of our lives. [A pause.]
DORN. I am fifty-five years old. It is too late now for me to change my ways of living.
PAULINA. I know that you refuse me because there are other women who are near to you, and you cannot take everybody. I understand. Excuse me — I see I am only bothering you.
NINA is seen near the house picking a bunch of flowers.
DORN. No, it is all right.
PAULINA. I am tortured by jealousy. Of course you are a doctor and cannot escape from women. I understand.
DORN. [TO NINA, who comes toward him] How are things in there?
NINA. Madame Arkadina is crying, and Sorin is having an attack of asthma.
DORN. Let us go and give them both some camomile tea.
NINA. [Hands him the bunch of flowers] Here are some flowers for you.
DORN. Thank you. [He goes into the house.]
PAULINA. [Following him] What pretty flowers! [As they reach the house she says in a low voice] Give me those flowers! Give them to me!
DORN hands her the flowers; she tears them to pieces and flings them away. They both go into the house.
NINA. [Alone] How strange to see a famous actress weeping, and for such a trifle! Is it not strange, too, that a famous author should sit fishing all day? He is the idol of the public, the papers are full of him, his photograph is for sale everywhere, his works have been translated into many foreign languages, and