Anton Chekhov: Plays, Short Stories, Diary & Letters (Collected Edition). Anton Chekhov
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Why not?
SONIA. It is so unworthy of you. You are well-bred, your voice is sweet, you are even — more than any one I know — handsome. Why do you want to resemble the common people that drink and play cards? Oh, don’t, I beg you! You always say that people do not create anything, but only destroy what heaven has given them. Why, oh, why, do you destroy yourself? Oh, don’t, I implore you not to! I entreat you!
ASTROFF. [Gives her his hand] I won’t drink any more.
SONIA. Promise me.
ASTROFF. I give you my word of honour.
SONIA. [Squeezing his hand] Thank you.
ASTROFF. I have done with it. You see, I am perfectly sober again, and so I shall stay till the end of my life. [He looks his watch] But, as I was saying, life holds nothing for me; my race is run. I am old, I am tired, I am trivial; my sensibilities are dead. I could never attach myself to any one again. I love no one, and never shall! Beauty alone has the power to touch me still. I am deeply moved by it. Helena could turn my head in a day if she wanted to, but that is not love, that is not affection —
[He shudders and covers his face with his hands.]
SONIA. What is it?
ASTROFF. Nothing. During Lent one of my patients died under chloroform.
SONIA. It is time to forget that. [A pause] Tell me, doctor, if I had a friend or a younger sister, and if you knew that she, well — loved you, what would you do?
ASTROFF. [Shrugging his shoulders] I don’t know. I don’t think I should do anything. I should make her understand that I could not return her love — however, my mind is not bothered about those things now. I must start at once if I am ever to get off. Goodbye, my dear girl. At this rate we shall stand here talking till morning. [He shakes hands with her] I shall go out through the sitting-room, because I am afraid your uncle might detain me. [He goes out.]
SONIA. [Alone] Not a word! His heart and soul are still locked from me, and yet for some reason I am strangely happy. I wonder why? [She laughs with pleasure] I told him that he was well-bred and handsome and that his voice was sweet. Was that a mistake? I can still feel his voice vibrating in the air; it caresses me. [Wringing her hands] Oh! how terrible it is to be plain! I am plain, I know it. As I came out of church last Sunday I overheard a woman say, “She is a dear, noble girl, but what a pity she is so ugly!” So ugly!
HELENA comes in and throws open the window.
HELENA. The storm is over. What delicious air! [A pause] Where is the doctor?
SONIA. He has gone. [A pause.]
HELENA. Sonia!
SONIA. Yes?
HELENA. How much longer are you going to sulk at me? We have not hurt each other. Why not be friends? We have had enough of this.
SONIA. I myself — [She embraces HELENA] Let us make peace.
HELENA. With all my heart. [They are both moved.]
SONIA. Has papa gone to bed?
HELENA. No, he is sitting up in the drawing-room. Heaven knows what reason you and I had for not speaking to each other for weeks. [Sees the open sideboard] Who left the sideboard open?
SONIA. Dr. Astroff has just had supper.
HELENA. There is some wine. Let us seal our friendship.
SONIA. Yes, let us.
HELENA. Out of one glass. [She fills a wineglass] So, we are friends, are we?
SONIA. Yes. [They drink and kiss each other] I have long wanted to make friends, but somehow, I was ashamed to. [She weeps.]
HELENA. Why are you crying?
SONIA. I don’t know. It is nothing.
HELENA. There, there, don’t cry. [She weeps] Silly! Now I am crying too. [A pause] You are angry with me because I seem to have married your father for his money, but don’t believe the gossip you hear. I swear to you I married him for love. I was fascinated by his fame and learning. I know now that it was not real love, but it seemed real at the time. I am innocent, and yet your clever, suspicious eyes have been punishing me for an imaginary crime ever since my marriage.
SONIA. Peace, peace! Let us forget the past.
HELENA. You must not look so at people. It is not becoming to you. You must trust people, or life becomes impossible.
SONIA. Tell me truly, as a friend, are you happy?
HELENA. Truly, no.
SONIA. I knew it. One more question: do you wish your husband were young?
HELENA. What a child you are! Of course I do. Go on, ask something else.
SONIA. Do you like the doctor?
HELENA. Yes, very much indeed.
SONIA. [Laughing] I have a stupid face, haven’t I? He has just gone out, and his voice is still in my ears; I hear his step; I see his face in the dark window. Let me say all I have in my heart! But no, I cannot speak of it so loudly. I am ashamed. Come to my room and let me tell you there. I seem foolish to you, don’t I? Talk to me of him.
HELENA. What can I say?
SONIA. He is clever. He can do everything. He can cure the sick, and plant woods.
HELENA. It is not a question of medicine and woods, my dear, he is a man of genius. Do you know what that means? It means he is brave, profound, and of clear insight. He plants a tree and his mind travels a thousand years into the future, and he sees visions of the happiness of the human race. People like him are rare and should be loved. What if he does drink and act roughly at times? A man of genius cannot be a saint in Russia. There he lives, cut off from the world by cold and storm and endless roads of bottomless mud, surrounded by a rough people who are crushed by poverty and disease, his life one continuous struggle, with never a day’s respite; how can a man live like that for forty years and keep himself sober and unspotted? [Kissing SONIA] I wish you happiness with all my heart; you deserve it. [She gets up] As for me, I am a worthless, futile woman. I have always been futile; in music, in love, in my husband’s house — in a word, in everything. When you come to think of it, Sonia, I am really very, very unhappy. [Walks excitedly up and down] Happiness can never exist for me in this world. Never. Why do you laugh?
SONIA. [Laughing and covering her face with her hands] I am so happy, so happy!
HELENA. I want to hear music. I might play a little.
SONIA. Oh, do, do! [She embraces her] I could not possibly go to sleep now. Do play!
HELENA. Yes, I will. Your father is still awake. Music irritates him when he is ill, but if he says I may, then I shall play a little. Go, Sonia, and ask him.
SONIA. Very well.
[She goes out. The WATCHMAN’S rattle is heard in the garden.]
HELENA. It is long since I have heard music. And now, I shall sit and play, and weep like a fool. [Speaking out of the window] Is that you rattling out there, Ephim?
VOICE OF THE WATCHMAN. It is I.
HELENA. Don’t make such a noise. Your master is ill.
VOICE OF THE WATCHMAN. I am going away this minute. [Whistles a tune.]
SONIA. [Comes back] He says, no.
The curtain falls.
ACT III
The drawing-room of SEREBRAKOFF’S house. There are three doors: one to the right, one to the left, and one in the centre of the room. VOITSKI and SONIA are sitting down. HELENA is walking up and down, absorbed in thought.
VOITSKI.