"Do you know," Ivan Bunin recalls Anton Chekhov saying to him in 1899, near the end of his too-short life, "for how many years I shall be read? Seven." "Why seven?" Bunin asked. "Well," Chekhov answered, "seven and a half then." — quoted by Donald Fanger, New York Times, March 14, 1999
Based on the copy-text Plays by Anton Tchekov, translated from the Russian by Constance Garnett, New York, Macmillan, 1916, also available in early Modern Library editions. Scanned by A. S. Man. Translation revised and notes added 1998 by James Rusk and A. S. Man. Some obsolete spelling and idioms have been changed. Any stage production or adaptation, amateur or professional, is hereby licensed free without special permission.
In the house of the PROZOROVS. A
drawing-room with columns beyond which
a large room is visible.
Mid-day; it is bright and sunny.
The table in the farther room is being laid for
lunch.
OLGA, in the dark blue uniform of a
high-school teacher, is correcting exercise books,
at times standing still and then walking up and
down; MASHA, in a black dress, with her hat
on her knee, is reading a book; IRINA, in a
white dress, is standing plunged in
thought.
OLGA. Father died just a year ago, on this very
day --
the fifth of May,
your name-day, Irina. It
was very cold, snow was falling. I felt as though
I should not live through it; you lay fainting as
though you were dead. But now a year has passed
and we can think of it calmly; you are already in
a white dress, your face is radiant. [The
clock strikes twelve.] The clock was striking
then too [a pause]. I remember the band
playing and the firing at the cemetery as they
carried the coffin. Though he was a general in
command of a brigade, yet there weren't many
people there. It was raining, though. Heavy rain
and snow.
IRINA. Why recall it!
[BARON TUZENBAKH, CHEBUTYKIN and
SOLYONY appear near the table in the
dining-room, beyond the columns.]
OLGA. It is warm today, we can have the windows
open, but the birches are not in leaf yet. Father
was given his brigade and came here with us from
Moscow eleven years ago and I remember distinctly
that in Moscow at this time, at the beginning of
May, everything was already in flower; it was
warm, and everything was bathed in sunshine. It's
eleven years ago, and yet I remember it all as
though we had left it yesterday. Oh, dear! I
woke up this morning, I saw a blaze of sunshine.
I saw the spring, and joy stirred in my heart. I
had a passionate longing to be back at home
again!
CHEBUTYKIN. The devil it is!
TUZENBAKH. Of course, it's nonsense.
[MASHA, brooding over a book, softly
whistles a song.]
OLGA. Don't whistle, Masha. How can you!
[a pause] Being all day in school and then
at my lessons till the evening gives me a
perpetual headache and thoughts as gloomy as
though I were old. And really these four years
that I have been at the high-school I have felt
my strength and my youth oozing away from me every
day. And only one yearning grows stronger and
stronger. . . .
IRINA. To go back to Moscow. To sell the
house, to make an end of everything here, and off
to Moscow. . . .
OLGA. Masha will come and spend the whole
summer in Moscow every year.
[MASHA softly whistles a tune.]
IRINA. Please God it will all be managed.
[Looking out of window] How fine it is
today. I don't know why I feel so light-hearted!
I remembered this morning that it was my name-day
and at once I felt joyful and thought of my
childhood when mother was living. And I was
thrilled by such wonderful thoughts, such
thoughts!
OLGA. You are radiant today and looking
lovelier than usual. And Masha is lovely too.
Andrey would be nice-looking, but he has grown too
fat and that does not suit him. And I've grown
older and ever so much thinner. I suppose it's
because I get so cross with the girls at school.
Today now I am free, I'm at home, and my head
doesn't ache, and I feel younger than yesterday.
I'm only twenty-eight. . . . It's all quite
right, it's all from God, but it seems to me that
if I were married and sitting at home all day, it
would be better [a pause]. I would love my
husband.
TUZENBAKH [to SOLYONY]. You talk
such nonsense, I'm tired of listening to you.
[Coming into the drawing-room] I forgot to
tell you, you will receive a visit today from
Vershinin, the new commander of our battery
[sits down to the piano].
OLGA. Well, I'll be delighted.
IRINA. Is he old?
TUZENBAKH. No, not particularly. . . .
Forty or forty-five at the most [softly plays
the piano]. He seems to be a nice fellow.
He's not stupid, that's certain. Only he talks a
lot.
IRINA. Is he interesting?
TUZENBAKH. Yes, he's all right, only he has a
wife, a mother-in-law and two little girls. And
it's his second wife too. He is paying calls and
telling everyone that he has a wife and two little
girls. He'll tell you so too. His wife seems a
bit crazy, with her hair in a long braid like a
girl's, always talks in a high-flown style, makes
philosophical reflections and frequently attempts
to commit suicide, evidently to annoy her husband.
I should have left a woman like that years ago,
but he puts up with her and merely complains.
SOLYONY [coming into the drawing-room
with CHEBUTYKIN]. With one hand I can only
lift up
half a hundredweight, but with both hands
I can lift up
two or even two-and-a-half
hundredweight. From that I conclude that two men
are not only twice but three times as strong as
one man, or even more. . . .
CHEBUTYKIN [reading the newspaper as he
comes in]. For hair falling out. . . two
ounces of naphthaline in half a bottle of alcohol.
., to be dissolved and used daily. . . [puts
it down in his note-book]. Let's make a note
of it!
No, I don't want it. . . [scratches
it out]. It doesn't matter.
IRINA. Ivan Romanitch, dear Ivan Romanitch!
CHEBUTYKIN. What is it, my child, my joy?
IRINA. Tell me, why is it I am so happy today?
As though I were sailing with the great blue sky
above me and big white birds flying over it. Why
is it? Why?
CHEBUTYKIN [kissing both her hands,
tenderly]. My white bird. . . .
IRINA. When I woke up this morning, got up and
washed, it suddenly seemed to me as though
everything in the world was clear to me and that I
knew how one ought to live. Dear Ivan Romanitch,
I know all about it. A man ought to work, to toil
in the sweat of his brow, whoever he may be, and
all the purpose and meaning of his life, his
happiness, his ecstasies lie in that alone. How
delightful to be a workman who gets up before dawn
and breaks stones on the road, or a shepherd, or a
schoolmaster teaching children,
or an
engine-driver. . . . Oh, dear! to say nothing
of human beings, it would be better to be an ox,
better to be a humble horse as long as you can
work, than a young woman who
wakes at twelve
o'clock, then has coffee in bed, then spends two
hours dressing. . . . Oh, how awful that is!
Just as one has a craving for water in hot weather
I have a craving for work. And if I don't get up
early and work, give me up as a friend, Ivan
Romanitch.
CHEBUTYKIN [tenderly]. I'll give you
up, I'll give you up. . . .
OLGA. Father trained us to get up at seven
o'clock. Now Irina wakes at seven and lies in bed
at least till nine thinking about things. And she
looks so serious! [Laughs]
IRINA. You are used to thinking of me as a
child and are surprised when I look serious. I'm
twenty!
TUZENBAKH. The yearning for work, oh dear, how
well I understand it! I've never worked in my
life. I was born in cold, idle Petersburg, in a
family that had known nothing of work or cares of
any kind. I remember, when I came home from the
military school, a valet used to pull off my
boots. I used to be troublesome, but my mother
looked at me with reverential awe, and was
surprised when other people didn't do the same. I
was shielded from work. But I doubt if they have
succeeded in shielding me completely, I doubt it!
The time is at hand, an avalanche is moving down
upon us, a mighty clearing storm which is coming,
is already near and will soon blow the laziness,
the indifference, the distaste for work, the
rotten boredom out of our society. I'll work,
and in another twenty-five or thirty years every
one will have to work. Every one!
CHEBUTYKIN. I'm not going to work.
TUZENBAKH. You don't count.
SOLYONY. In another twenty-five years you won't
be here, thank God. In two or three years you
will
kick the bucket, or I shall lose my temper
and put a bullet through your head, my angel.
[Pulls a scent-bottle out of his pocket and
sprinkles his chest and hands.]
CHEBUTYKIN [laughs]. And I really have
never done anything at all. I haven't done a
stroke of work since I left the University, I have
never read a book, I read nothing but newspapers .
. . [takes another newspaper out of his
pocket]. Here. . . I know, for instance,
from the newspapers that there was such a person
as
Dobrolyubov, but what he wrote, I can't say. .
. . Goodness only knows. . . . [A knock is
heard on the floor from the floor below.]
There. . . they are calling me downstairs,
someone has come for me. I'll be back directly.
. . . Wait a minute. . . [goes out
hurriedly, combing his beard].
IRINA. He's got something up his sleeve.
TUZENBAKH. Yes, he went out with a solemn face,
evidently he's just going to bring you a present.
MASHA.
By the sea-strand an oak-tree green. .,
upon that oak a chain of gold. . . upon that
oak a chain of gold. . . [gets up, humming
softly].
OLGA. You are not very cheerful today, Masha.
[MASHA, humming, puts on her hat.]
OLGA. Where are you going?
MASHA. Home.
IRINA. That's odd! . . .
TUZENBAKH. To walk out on a name-day party!
MASHA. Never mind. . . . I'll come in the
evening. Good-bye, my darling. . .
[kisses IRINA]. Once again I wish you, be
well and happy. In old days, when Father was
alive, we always had thirty or forty officers here
on name-days; it was noisy, but today there's
only a man and a half, and it's as still as the
desert. . . . I'll go. . . . I've got the
blues today, I'm feeling glum, so don't you mind
what I say [laughing through her tears].
We'll talk some other time, and so for now
good-bye, darling, I'm going. . . .
IRINA [discontentedly]. Oh, how
tiresome you are. . . .
OLGA [with tears]. I understand you,
Masha.
SOLYONY. If a man philosophises, there will be
philosophy or sophistry, anyway, but if a woman
philosophises, or two do it, then it will be so
much twiddle-twaddle!
MASHA. What do you mean to say by that, you
terrible person?
ANFISA. This way, my good man. Come in, your
boots are clean. [To IRINA] From the
District Council, from Mihail Ivanitch Protopopov.
. . . A cake.
IRINA. Thanks. Thank him [takes the
cake].
FERAPONT. What?
IRINA [more loudly]. Thank him from
me!
OLGA.
Nanny dear, give him something to eat.
Ferapont, go along, they will give you something
to eat.
FERAPONT. Eh?
ANFISA. Come along, Ferapont Spiridonitch, my
good soul, come along. . . [goes out
with FERAPONT].
MASHA. I don't like that Protopopov, that
Mihail Potapitch or Ivanitch. He ought not to be
invited.
IRINA. I didn't invite him.
MASHA. That's a good thing.
[Enter CHEBUTYKIN, followed by an
orderly with a silver samovar; a hum of surprise
and displeasure.]
OLGA [putting her hands over her face].
A samovar! How awful! [Goes out to the table
in the dining-room.]
IRINA. My dear Ivan Romanitch, what are you
thinking about!
TUZENBAKH [laughs]. I warned you!
MASHA. Ivan Romanitch, you really have no
conscience!
CHEBUTYKIN. My dear girls, my darlings, you
are all that I have, you are the most precious
treasures I have on earth. I shall soon be sixty,
I am an old man, alone in the world, a useless old
man. . . . There is nothing good in me, except
my love for you, and if it were not for you, I
should have been dead long ago. . . .
[To IRINA] My dear, my little girl, I've
known you from a baby. . . I've carried you in
my arms. . . . I loved your dear mother. . .
.
IRINA. But why such expensive presents?
CHEBUTYKIN [angry and tearful].
Expensive presents. . . . Get along with you!
[To the orderly] Take the samovar in there.
. . [Mimicking] Expensive presents . . .
[The orderly carries the samovar into the
dining-room.]
ANFISA [crossing the room]. My dears, a
colonel is here, a stranger. . . . He has
taken off his overcoat, children, he is coming in
here.
Irinushka, you must be nice and polite,
dear. . . [As she goes out] And it's
time for lunch already. . . mercy on us.
.
TUZENBAKH. Vershinin, I suppose.
[Enter VERSHININ.]
TUZENBAKH. Lieutenant Colonel Vershinin.
VERSHININ [to MASHA and IRINA].
I've the honour to introduce myself, my name is
Vershinin. I'm very, very glad to be in your
house at last. How you've grown up! Oh! Oh!
IRINA. Please sit down. We are delighted to
see you.
VERSHININ [with animation]. How glad I
am, how glad I am! But there are three of you
sisters. I remember three little girls. I don't
remember your faces, but that your father, Colonel
Prozorov, had three little girls I remember
perfectly, and saw them with my own eyes. How
time passes! Hey-ho, how it passes!
TUZENBAKH. Alexandr Ignatyevitch has come from
Moscow.
IRINA. From Moscow? You have come from Moscow?
VERSHININ. Yes. Your father was in command of
a battery there, and I was an officer in the same
brigade. [To MASHA] Your face, now, I seem
to remember.
MASHA. I don't remember you.
IRINA. Olya! Olya! [Calls into the
dining-room] Olya, come!
[OLGA comes out of the dining-room into the
drawing-room.]
IRINA. Lieutenant Colonel Vershinin is from
Moscow, it appears.
VERSHININ. So you are Olga Sergeyevna, the
eldest. . . . And you are Marya. . . . And
you are Irina, the youngest. . . .
OLGA. You come from Moscow?
VERSHININ. Yes. I studied in Moscow. I began
my service there, I served there for years, and at
last I've been given a battery here -- I have
moved here as you see. I don't remember you
exactly, I only remember you were three sisters.
I remember your father. If I shut my eyes, I can
see him as though he were living. I used to visit
you in Moscow. . . .
OLGA. I thought I remembered everyone, and now
all at once. . .
VERSHININ. My name is Alexandr Ignatyevitch.
IRINA. Alexandr Ignatyevitch, you've come from
Moscow. . . . What a surprise!
OLGA. We're going to move there, you know.
IRINA. We're hoping to be there by the autumn.
It's our native town, we were born there. . . .
In Old Basmannaya Street . . . [both laugh
with delight].
MASHA. To see some one from our own town
unexpectedly! [Eagerly] Now I remember!
Do you remember, Olya, they used to talk of the
"love-sick major"? You were a
lieutenant at that time and were in love, and for
some reason everyone called you major to tease
you. . . .
VERSHININ [laughs]. Yes, yes. . . .
The love-sick major, that was it.
MASHA. You only had a moustache then. . . .
Oh, how much older you look! [through
tears] how much older!
VERSHININ. Yes, when I was called the love-sick
major I was young, I was in love. Now it's very
different.
OLGA. But you haven't a single grey hair.
You've grown older but you're not old.
VERSHININ. I'm in my forty-third year, though.
Is it long since you left Moscow?
IRINA. Eleven years. But why are you crying,
Masha, you foolish girl?. . . [through her
tears] I shall cry too. . . .
MASHA. I'm all right. And in which street did
you live?
VERSHININ. In Old Basmannaya.
OLGA. And that's where we lived too. . .
.
VERSHININ. At one time I lived in
Nyemetsky
Street. I used to go from there to the Red
Barracks. There is a gloomy-looking bridge on the
way, where the water makes a noise. It makes a
lonely man feel melancholy [a pause]. And
here what a broad, splendid river! A marvellous
river!
OLGA. Yes, but it is cold. It's cold here and
there are mosquitoes. . . .
VERSHININ. How can you! You've such a splendid
healthy Russian climate here. Forest, river. .
. and birches here too. Charming, modest birches,
I love them better than any other trees. It's
nice to live here. The only strange thing is that
the railway station is
fifteen miles away. . .
. And no one knows why it's so.
SOLYONY. I know why it is. [They all look
at him.] Because if the station had been near
it would not have been so far, and if it is far,
it's because it's not near.
[An awkward silence.]
TUZENBAKH. He's fond of his joke, Vassily
Vassilyevitch.
OLGA. Now I recall you, too. I remember.
VERSHININ. I knew your mother.
CHEBUTYKIN. She was a fine woman, the Kingdom
of Heaven be hers.
MASHA. Would you believe it, I'm already
beginning to forget her face. So people won't
remember us either; they'll forget us.
VERSHININ. Yes. They'll forget us. Such is
our fate, there is no help for it. What seems to
us serious, significant, very important, will one
day be forgotten or will seem unimportant [a
pause]. And it's curious that we can't
possibly tell what exactly will be considered
great and important, and what will seem petty and
ridiculous. Didn't the discoveries of Copernicus
or Columbus, let's say, seem useless and
ridiculous at first, while the nonsensical
writings of some fool seemed true? And it may be
that our present life, which we accept so readily,
will in time seem strange, inconvenient, stupid,
not clean enough, perhaps even sinful. . .
.
TUZENBAKH. Who knows? Perhaps our age will be
called a great one and remembered with respect.
Now we have no torture-chamber, no executions, no
invasions, but at the same time how much suffering
there is!
SOLYONY [in a high-pitched voice].
Chook, chook, chook. . . . It's bread and meat
to the baron to talk about ideas.
TUZENBAKH. Vassily Vassilyevitch, I ask you to
let me alone . . . [moves to another
seat]. It gets boring, at last.
TUZENBAKH [to VERSHININ]. The suffering
which one observes now -- there is so much of it
-- does indicate, however, that society has
reached a certain moral level. . . .
VERSHININ. Yes, yes, of course.
CHEBUTYKIN. You said just now, Baron, that our
age will be called great; but people are small all
the same. . . [gets up].
Look how small
I am. [A violin is played behind the
scenes.]
MASHA. That's Andrey playing, our brother.
IRINA. He's the scholar of the family. We
expect him to become a professor. Father was a
military man, but his son has gone in for a
scholarly career.
MASHA. It was father's wish.
OLGA. We've been teasing him today. We think
he's a little in love.
IRINA. With a young lady living here. She'll
come in today most likely.
MASHA. Oh, how she dresses! It's not that her
clothes are merely ugly or out of fashion, they're
simply pitiful. A weird gaudy yellowish skirt
with some sort of vulgar fringe and a red blouse.
And her cheeks scrubbed till they shine! Andrey
is not in love with her -- I won't admit that, he
has some taste after all -- it's simply for fun,
he is teasing us, playing the fool. I heard
yesterday that she is going to be married to
Protopopov, the chairman of our District Council.
And a very good thing too. . . . [At the
side door] Andrey, come here, dear, for a
minute!
[Enter ANDREY.]
OLGA. This is my brother, Andrey
Sergeyevitch.
VERSHININ. My name is Vershinin.
ANDREY. And mine is Prozorov [mops his
perspiring face]. You're our new battery
commander?
OLGA. Can you believe, Alexandr Ignatyevitch
comes from Moscow.
ANDREY. Really? Well, then, I congratulate
you. My sisters will let you have no peace.
VERSHININ. I've had time to bore your sisters
already.
IRINA. See what a pretty picture-frame Andrey
has given me today! [Shows the frame] He
made it himself.
VERSHININ [looking at the frame and not
knowing what to say]. Yes. ., it is a thing.
. . .
IRINA. And that frame above the piano, he made
that too!
[ANDREY waves his hand in despair and moves
away.]
OLGA. He's a scholar, and he plays the violin,
and he makes all sorts of things with the fretsaw.
In fact he's good all round. Andrey, don't go!
That's a way he has -- he always tries to make
off! Come here!
[MASHA and IRINA take him by the arms
and, laughing, lead him back.]
MASHA. Come, come!
ANDREY. Leave me alone, please!
MASHA. How funny he is! Alexandr Ignatyevitch
used to be called the love-sick major at one time,
and he wasn't a bit offended.
VERSHININ. Not in the least!
MASHA. And I'd like to call you the love-sick
violinist!
IRINA. Or the love-sick professor!
OLGA. He's in love! Andryusha is in love!
IRINA [claps her hands]. Bravo, bravo!
Encore! Andryusha is in love!
CHEBUTYKIN [comes up behind ANDREY
and puts both arms round his waist].
Nature our hearts for love created! [Laughs,
then sits down and reads the newspaper which he
takes out of his pocket.]
ANDREY. Come, that's enough, that's enough. .
. [mops his face]. I haven't slept all
night and this morning I don't feel quite myself,
as they say. I read till four o'clock and then
went to bed, but it was no use. I thought of one
thing and another, and then
it gets light so
early; the sun simply pours into my bedroom. I
want while I'm here during the summer to translate
a book from the English. . . .
VERSHININ. You read English then?
ANDREY. Yes. Our father, the Kingdom of Heaven
be his, oppressed us with education. It's funny
and silly, but it must be confessed I began to get
fatter after his death, and I've grown too fat in
one year, as though a weight had been taken off my
body. Thanks to our father we all know English,
French and German, and Irina knows Italian too.
But what it cost us!
MASHA. In this town to know three languages is
an unnecessary luxury! Not even a luxury, but an
unnecessary encumbrance, like a sixth finger. We
know a great deal that's unnecessary.
VERSHININ. What next! [laughs] You know
a great deal that's unnecessary! I don't think
there can be a town so dull and dismal that
intelligent and educated people are unnecessary in
it. Let's suppose that of the hundred thousand
people living in this town, which is, of course,
uncultured and behind the times, there are only
three of your sort. It goes without saying that
you cannot conquer the
mass of darkness round you;
little by little, as you go on living, you'll be
lost in the crowd. You'll have to give in to it.
Life will get the better of you, but still you'll
not disappear without a trace. After you there
may appear perhaps six like you, then twelve and
so on until such as you form a majority. In two
or three hundred years, life on earth will be
unimaginably beautiful, marvellous. Man needs
such a life and, though he hasn't got it yet, he
must have a presentiment of it, expect it, dream
of it, prepare for it; for that he must see and
know more than his father and grandfather
[laughs]. And you complain of knowing a
great deal that's unnecessary.
MASHA [takes off her hat]. I'll stay to
lunch.
IRINA [with a sigh]. All that really
ought to be written down. . . .
[ANDREY has slipped away unobserved.]
TUZENBAKH. You say that after many years life
on earth will be beautiful and marvellous. That's
true. But in order to have any share, however far
off, in it now we must be preparing for it, we
must be working. . . .
VERSHININ [gets up]. Yes. What a lot
of flowers you have! [Looking round] And
delightful rooms. I envy you! I've been knocking
about all my life from one wretched lodging to
another, always with two chairs and a sofa and
stoves which smoke. What I've been lacking all
my life is just such flowers . . . [rubs his
hands]. But there, it's no use thinking about
it!
TUZENBAKH. Yes, we must work. No doubt you
think the German is getting sentimental. But on
my honour I am Russian and I can't even speak
German. My father belonged to the Orthodox
Church. . . [a pause].
VERSHININ [walks about the stage]. I
often think, what if you were to begin life over
again, knowing what you're doing! If one life,
which has been already lived, were only a rough
sketch so to speak, and the second were the final
copy! Then, I think, every one of us would try
before anything else not to repeat himself, anyway
he would create a different setting for his life;
would have a house like this with plenty of light
and masses of flowers. . . . I have a wife and
two little girls, my wife is in delicate health
and so on and so on, but if I were to begin life
over again I would not marry. . . . No,
no!
[Enter KULYGIN in the uniform of a
teacher.]
KULYGIN [goes up to IRINA]. Dear
sister, allow me to congratulate you on your
name-day and with all my heart to wish you good
health and everything else that one can desire for
a girl of your age. And to offer you as a gift
this little book [gives her a book]. The
history of our high-school for fifty years,
written by myself. An insignificant little book,
written because I had nothing better to do, but
still you can read it. Good day, friends.
[To VERSHININ] My name is Kuligin, teacher
in the high-school here,
court councilor.
[To IRINA] In that book you'll find a list
of all who have finished their studies in our
high-school during the last fifty years.
Feci,
quod potui, faciant meliora potentes
[kisses MASHA].
IRINA. Why, but you gave me a copy of this book at
Easter.
KULYGIN [laughs]. Impossible! If
that's so, give it me back, or better still, give
it to the Colonel. Please accept it, Colonel.
Some day when you're bored you can read it.
VERSHININ. Thank you [is about to take
leave]. I'm extremely glad to have made your
acquaintance. . . .
OLGA. You are going? No, no!
IRINA. You must stay for lunch with us. Please
do.
OLGA. Pray do!
VERSHININ [bows]. I believe I have
intruded on a name-day party. Forgive me, I
didn't know and haven't congratulated you. . .
[Walks away with OLGA into the
dining-room.]
KULYGIN. Today, ladies and gentlemen, is
Sunday, a day of rest. Let's all rest and enjoy
ourselves each in accordance with our age and our
position. The carpets should be taken up for the
summer and put away till the winter. . . .
Persian powder or naphthaline. . . . The
Romans were healthy because they knew how to work
and they knew how to rest, they had
mens sana
in corpore sano. Their life was moulded into
a certain framework. Our headmaster says that the
most important thing in every life is its
framework. . . . What loses its framework,
comes to an end -- and it's the same in our
everyday life. [Puts his arm round MASHA'S
waist, laughing.] Masha loves me. My wife
loves me. And the window curtains, too, ought to
be put away together with the carpets. . . .
Today I feel cheerful and in the best of spirits.
Masha, at four o'clock this afternoon we have to
be at the headmaster's house. An excursion has
been arranged for the teachers and their
families.
MASHA. I'm not going.
KULYGIN [grieved]. Dear Masha, why
not?
MASHA. We'll talk about it afterwards. . .
[Angrily] Very well, I'll go, only let me
alone, please. . . [walks away].
KULYGIN. And then we shall spend the evening at
the head-master's house. In spite of the delicate
state of his health that man tries before all
things to be sociable. He's an excellent, noble
personality. A splendid man. Yesterday, after
the meeting, he said to me, "I'm tired,
Fyodor Ilyitch, I'm tired." [Looks at the
clock, then at his watch] Your clock is seven
minutes fast. "Yes," he said, "I'm
tired."
[Sounds of a violin behind the scenes.]
OLGA. Come to lunch, please. There's a pie!
KULYGIN. Ah, Olga, my dear Olga! Yesterday I
was working from early morning till eleven o'clock
at night and was tired out, and today I feel happy
[goes up to the table in the dining-room].
My dear. . . .
CHEBUTYKIN [puts the newspaper in his
pocket and combs his beard]. Pie?
Splendid!
MASHA [to CHEBUTYKIN, sternly].
Only mind you don't drink today! Do you hear?
It's bad for you to drink.
CHEBUTYKIN. Oh, come, that's a thing of the
past. It's two years since I got drunk.
[Impatiently] But there,
my good girl, what
does it matter!
MASHA. Anyway, don't you dare to drink. Don't
dare. [Angrily, but so as not to be heard by
her husband] Oh, to hell with it, I'm going to
be bored a whole evening at the headmaster's!
TUZENBAKH. I wouldn't go if I were you. . .
. It's very simple.
CHEBUTYKIN. Don't go, my love.
MASHA. Oh, yes, don't go! . . . It's a
damnable life, insufferable. . . [goes to
the dining-room].
CHEBUTYKIN [following her]. Come,
come. . . .
SOLYONY [going to the dining-room].
Chook, chook, . . . . . . . . .
KULYGIN [gaily]. Your health, Colonel!
I am a teacher and one of the family here, Masha's
husband. . . . She's very kind, really, very
kind. . . .
VERSHININ. I'll have some of this dark-coloured
vodka. . . [drinks]. To your health!
[To OLGA] I feel so happy with all of
you!
[No one is left in the drawing-room but
IRINA and TUZENBAKH.]
IRINA. Masha is in low spirits today. She was
married at eighteen, when she thought him the
cleverest of men. But now it's not the same now.
He's the kindest of men, but he's not the
cleverest.
OLGA [impatiently]. Andrey, come
on!
ANDREY [behind the scenes]. I'm coming
[comes in and goes to the table].
TUZENBAKH. What are you thinking about?
IRINA. Nothing. I don't like that Solyony of
yours, I'm afraid of him. He keeps on saying such
stupid things. . . .
TUZENBAKH. He's a strange man. I'm sorry for
him and annoyed by him, but more sorry. I think
he's shy. . . . When there's just the two of
us he is very intelligent and friendly, but in
company he's rude, a bully. Don't go yet, let
them sit down to the table. Let me be by you.
What are you thinking of? [a pause] You're
twenty, I'm not yet thirty. How many years have
we got before us, a long, long chain of days full
of my love for you. . . .
IRINA. Nikolay Lvovitch, don't talk to me about
love.
TUZENBAKH [not listening]. I have a
passionate craving for life, for struggle, for
work, and that craving is mingled in my soul with
my love for you, Irina, and just because you're
beautiful it seems to me that life too is
beautiful! What are you thinking of?
IRINA. You say life is beautiful. . . .
Yes, but what if it only seems so! Life for us
three sisters hasn't been beautiful yet, we've
been stifled by it as plants are choked by weeds.
. . . I'm starting to cry. . . . I mustn't
do that [hurriedly wipes her eyes and
smiles]. I must work, I must work. The
reason we are depressed and take such a gloomy
view of life is that we know nothing of work. We
come of people who despised work. . . .
[Enter NATALYA IVANOVNA; she is
wearing a pink dress with a green sash.]
NATASHA. They're sitting down to lunch already.
. . . I'm late. . . [Steals a glance at
herself in the mirror and puts herself
straight] I think my hair is all right.
[Seeing IRINA] Dear Irina Sergeyevna, I
congratulate you! [Gives her a vigorous and
prolonged kiss.] You have a lot of visitors, I
really feel embarrassed. . . . Good day,
Baron!
OLGA [coming into the drawing-room].
Well, here's Natalya Ivanovna! How are you, my
dear? [Kisses her.]
NATASHA. Congratulations on the name-day. You
have such a big party and I feel awfully
embarrassed. . . .
OLGA. Nonsense, we have only our own people.
[In an undertone, in alarm] You've got on a
green sash! My dear, that's not done!
NATASHA. Why, is that a bad omen?
OLGA. No, it's only that it doesn't go with
your dress. . . and it looks odd. . . .
NATASHA [in a tearful voice]. Really?
But you know it's not green exactly, it's more a
dull colour [follows OLGA into the
dining-room].
[In the dining-room they are all sitting
down to lunch; there is no one in the
drawing-room.]
KULYGIN. I wish you a good fiancé, Irina. It's
time for you to think of getting married.
CHEBUTYKIN. Natalya Ivanovna, I hope we may
hear of your engagement, too.
KULYGIN. Natalya Ivanovna has got a suitor
already.
MASHA. I'll have another little glass of wine!
You only live once -- what the hell.
KULYGIN. You deserve three bad marks for
conduct.
VERSHININ. How nice this cordial is! What is
it made of?
SOLYONY. Cockroaches.
IRINA [in a tearful voice]. Ugh, ugh!
How disgusting.
OLGA. We're going to have roast turkey and
apple pie for supper. Thank God I'm at home all
day and will be at home in the evening. . . .
Friends, won't you come again this evening?
VERSHININ. Allow me to come too.
IRINA. Please do.
NATASHA. They don't stand on ceremony here.
CHEBUTYKIN. Nature our hearts for love
created! [Laughs]
ANDREY [angrily]. Stop it, gentlemen!
Aren't you tired of it yet?
[FEDOTIK and RODE come in with a
big basket of flowers.]
FEDOTIK. Why, they're at lunch already.
RODE [speaking loudly,
with a lisp].
At lunch? Yes, they are at lunch already. . .
.
FEDOTIK. Wait a minute [takes a
snapshot]. One! Wait another minute. . .
[takes another snapshot]. Two! Now it's
ready. [They take the basket and walk into the
dining-room, where they are greeted noisily.]
RODE [loudly]. My congratulations! I
wish you everything, everything! The weather is
delightful, perfectly magnificent. I've been out
all the morning for a walk with the high-school
boys. I teach them gymnastics.
FEDOTIK. You may move, Irina Sergeyevna, you may
move [taking a photograph]. You look
charming today [taking a top out of his
pocket]. Here is a top, by the way. . . .
It has a wonderful sound. . . .
IRINA. How lovely!
MASHA. By the sea-shore an oak-tree green. .
. . Upon that oak a chain of gold. . .
[Tearfully] Why do I keep saying that?
That phrase has been haunting me all day. . .
.
KULYGIN. Thirteen at table!
RODE [loudly]. Surely you don't
attach importance to such superstitions?
[Laughter]
KULYGIN. If there are thirteen at table, it
means that someone present is in love. It's not
you, Ivan Romanovitch, by any chance?
[Laughter]
CHEBUTYKIN. I'm an old sinner, but why Natalya
Ivanovna is blushing, I can't imagine. . .
[Loud laughter; NATASHA runs out
from the dining-room into the drawing-room
followed by ANDREY.]
ANDREY. Come, don't take any notice! Wait a
minute. . . stop, please. . . .
NATASHA. I feel ashamed. . . . I don't know
what's the matter with me and they make fun of me.
I know it's improper for me to leave the table
like this, but I can't help it. . . . I can't.
. . [covers her face with her hands].
ANDREY. My dear girl, please, I implore you,
don't be upset. I assure you they're only joking,
they do it in all kindness. My dear, my sweet,
they're all kind, warm-hearted people and they're
fond of me and of you. Come here to the window,
here they can't see us. . . [looks
round].
NATASHA. I'm so unaccustomed to society! . .
.
ANDREY. Oh youth, lovely, marvellous youth! My
dear, my sweet, don't be so distressed! Believe
me, believe me. . I feel so happy, my soul is
full of love and ecstasy. . . . Oh, they can't
see us, they can't see us! Why, why, I love you,
when I first loved you -- oh, I don't know. My
dear, my sweet, pure one, be my wife! I love you,
I love you. . . as I have never loved anyone.
. . [a kiss].
[Two officers come in and, seeing the pair
kissing, stop in amazement.]
theatre theory
