[The old garden at the house of the PROSOROVS. There is a long avenue of firs, at the end of which the river can be seen. There is a forest on the far side of the river. On the right is the terrace of the house: bottles and tumblers are on a table here; it is evident that champagne has just been drunk. It is midday. Every now and again passers-by walk across the garden, from the road to the river; five soldiers go past rapidly. Chebutikin, in a comfortable frame of mind which does not desert him throughout the act, sits in an armchair in the garden, waiting to be called. He wears a peaked cap and has a stick. Irina, Kuligin with a cross hanging from his neck and without his moustaches, and Tuzenbach are standing on the terrace seeing off Fedotik and Rode, who are coming down into the garden; both officers are in service uniform.]
Tuzenbach. [Exchanges kisses with Fedotik] You’re a good sort, we got on so well together. [Exchanges kisses with Rode] Once again. . . . Good-bye, old man!
Irina. Au revoir!
Fedotik. It isn’t au revoir, it’s good-bye; we’ll never meet again!
Kuligin. Who knows! [Wipes his eyes; smiles] Here I’ve started crying!
Irina. We’ll meet again sometime.
Fedotik. After ten years — or fifteen? We’ll hardly know one another then; we’ll say, “How do you do?” coldly. . . . [Takes a snapshot] Keep still. . . . Once more, for the last time.
Rode. [Embracing Tuzenbach] We shan’t meet again. . . . [Kisses Irina’s hand] Thank you for everything, for everything!
Fedotik. [Grieved] Don’t be in such a hurry!
Tuzenbach. We shall meet again, if God wills it. Write to us. Be sure to write.
Rode. [Looking round the garden] Good-bye, trees! [Shouts] Yo-ho! [Pause] Good-bye, echo!
Kuligin. Best wishes. Go and get yourselves wives there in Poland. . . . Your Polish wife will clasp you and call you “kochanku!” [Note: Darling.] [Laughs.]
Fedotik. [Looking at the time] There’s less than an hour left. Soleni is the only one of our battery who is going on the barge; the rest of us are going with the main body. Three batteries are leaving to-day, another three to-morrow and then the town will be quiet and peaceful.
Tuzenbach. And terribly dull.
Rode. And where is Maria Sergeyevna?
Kuligin. Masha is in the garden.
Fedotik. We’d like to say good-bye to her.
Rode. Good-bye, I must go, or else I’ll start weeping. . . . [Quickly embraces Kuligin and Tuzenbach, and kisses Irina’s hand] We’ve been so happy here. . . .
Fedotik. [To Kuligin] Here’s a keepsake for you . . . a note-book with a pencil. . . . We’ll go to the river from here. . . . [They go aside and both look round.]
Rode. [Shouts] Yo-ho!
Kuligin. [Shouts] Good-bye!
[At the back of the stage Fedotik and Rode meet Masha; they say good-bye and go out with her.]
Irina. They’ve gone. . . . [Sits on the bottom step of the terrace.]
Chebutikin. And they forgot to say good-bye to me.
Irina. But why is that?
Chebutikin. I just forgot, somehow. Though I’ll soon see them again, I’m going to-morrow. Yes . . . just one day left. I shall be retired in a year, then I’ll come here again, and finish my life near you. I’ve only one year before I get my pension. . . . [Puts one newspaper into his pocket and takes another out] I’ll come here to you and change my life radically . . . I’ll be so quiet . . . so agree . . . agreeable, respectable. . . .
Irina. Yes, you ought to change your life, dear man, somehow or other.
Chebutikin. Yes, I feel it. [Sings softly.] “Tarara-boom-deay. . . . ”
Kuligin. We won’t reform Ivan Romanovitch! We won’t reform him!
Chebutikin. If only I was apprenticed to you! Then I’d reform.
Irina. Feodor has shaved his moustache! I can’t bear to look at him.
Kuligin. Well, what about it?
Chebutikin. I could tell you what your face looks like now, but it wouldn’t be polite.
Kuligin. Well! It’s the custom, it’s modus vivendi. Our Director is clean-shaven, and so I too, when I received my inspectorship, had my moustaches removed. Nobody likes it, but it’s all one to me. I’m satisfied. Whether I’ve got moustaches or not, I’m satisfied. . . . [Sits.]
[At the back of the stage Andrey is wheeling a perambulator containing a sleeping infant.]
Irina. Ivan Romanovitch, be a darling. I’m awfully worried. You were out on the boulevard last night; tell me, what happened?
Chebutikin. What happened? Nothing. Quite a trifling matter. [Reads paper] Of no importance!
Kuligin. They say that Soleni and the Baron met yesterday on the boulevard near the theatre. . . .
Tuzenbach. Stop! What right . . . [Waves his hand and goes into the house.]
Kuligin. Near the theatre . . . Soleni started behaving offensively to the Baron, who lost his temper and said something nasty. . . .
Chebutikin. I don’t know. It’s all bunkum.
Kuligin. At some seminary or other a master wrote “bunkum” on an essay, and the student couldn’t make the letters out — thought it was a Latin word “luckum.” [Laughs] Awfully funny, that. They say that Soleni is in love with Irina and hates the Baron. . . . That’s quite natural. Irina is a very nice girl. She’s even like Masha, she’s so thoughtful. . . . Only, Irina your character is gentler. Though Masha’s character, too, is a very good one. I’m very fond of Masha. [Shouts of “Yo-ho!” are heard behind the stage.]
Irina. [Shudders] Everything seems to frighten me today. [Pause] I’ve got everything ready, and I send my things off after dinner. The Baron and I will be married to-morrow, and to-morrow we go away to the brickworks, and the next day I go to the school, and the new life begins. God will help me! When I took my examination for the teacher’s post, I actually wept for joy and gratitude. . . . [Pause] The cart will be here in a minute for my things. . . .
Kuligin. Somehow or other, all this doesn’t seem at all serious. As if it was all ideas, and nothing really serious. Still, with all my soul I wish you happiness.
Chebutikin. [With deep feeling] My splendid . . . my dear, precious girl. . . . You’ve gone on far ahead, I won’t catch up with you. I’m left behind like a migrant bird grown old, and unable to fly. Fly, my dear, fly, and God be with you! [Pause] It’s a pity you shaved your moustaches, Feodor Ilitch.
Kuligin. Oh, drop it! [Sighs] To-day the soldiers will be gone, and everything will go on as in the old days. Say what you will, Masha is a good, honest woman. I love her very much, and thank my fate for her. People have such different fates. There’s a Kosirev who works in the excise department here. He was at school with me; he was expelled from the fifth class of the High School for being entirely unable to understand ut consecutivum. He’s awfully hard up now and in very poor health, and when I meet him I say to him, “How do you do, ut consecutivum.” “Yes,” he says, “precisely consecutivum . . . ” and coughs. But I’ve been successful all my life, I’m happy, and I even have a Stanislaus Cross, of the second class, and now I myself teach others that ut consecutivum. Of course, I’m a clever man, much cleverer than many, but happiness doesn’t only lie in that. . . .
[“The Maiden’s Prayer” is being played on the piano in the house.]
Irina. To-morrow night I shan’t hear that “Maiden’s Prayer” any more, and I shan’t be meeting Protopopov. . . . [Pause] Protopopov is sitting there in the drawing-room; and he came to-day . . .
Kuligin. Hasn’t the head-mistress come yet?
Irina. No. She has been sent for. If you only knew how difficult it is for me to live alone, without Olga. . . . She lives at the High School; she, a head-mistress, busy all day with her affairs and I’m alone, bored, with nothing to do, and hate the room I live in. . . . I’ve made up my mind: if I can’t live in Moscow, then it must come to this. It’s fate. It can’t be helped. It’s all the will of God, that’s the truth. Nicolai Lvovitch made me a proposal. . . . Well? I thought it over and made up my mind. He’s a good man . . . it’s quite remarkable how good he is. . . . And suddenly my soul put out wings, I became happy, and light-hearted, and once again the desire for work, work, came over me. . . . Only something happened yesterday, some secret dread has been hanging over me. . . .
Chebutikin. Luckum. Rubbish.
Natasha. [At the window] The head-mistress.
Kuligin. The head-mistress has come. Let’s go. [Exit with Irina into the house.]
Chebutikin. “It is my washing day. . . . Tara-ra . . . boom-deay.”
[Masha approaches, Andrey is wheeling a perambulator at the back.]
Masha. Here you are, sitting here, doing nothing.
Chebutikin. What then?
Masha. [Sits] Nothing. . . . [Pause] Did you love my mother?
Chebutikin. Very much.
Masha. And did she love you?
Chebutikin. [After a pause] I don’t remember that.
Masha. Is my man here? When our cook Martha used to ask about her gendarme, she used to say my man. Is he here?
Chebutikin. Not yet.
Masha. When you take your happiness in little bits, in snatches, and then lose it, as I have done, you gradually get coarser, more bitter. [Points to her bosom] I’m boiling in here. . . . [Looks at Andrey with the perambulator] There’s our brother Andrey. . . . All our hopes in him have gone. There was once a great bell, a thousand persons were hoisting it, much money and labour had been spent on it, when it suddenly fell and was broken. Suddenly, for no particular reason. . . . Andrey is like that. . . .
Andrey. When are they going to stop making such a noise in the house? It’s awful.
Chebutikin. They won’t be much longer. [Looks at his watch] My watch is very old-fashioned, it strikes the hours. . . . [Winds the watch and makes it strike] The first, second, and fifth batteries are to leave at one o’clock precisely. [Pause] And I go to-morrow.
Andrey. For good?
Chebutikin. I don’t know. Perhaps I’ll return in a year. The devil only knows . . . it’s all one. . . . [Somewhere a harp and violin are being played.]
Andrey. The town will grow empty. It will be as if they put a cover over it. [Pause] Something happened yesterday by the theatre. The whole town knows of it, but I don’t.
Chebutikin. Nothing. A silly little affair. Soleni started irritating the Baron, who lost his temper and insulted him, and so at last Soleni had to challenge him. [Looks at his watch] It’s about time, I think. . . . At half-past twelve, in the public wood, that one you can see from here across the river. . . . Piff-paff. [Laughs] Soleni thinks he’s Lermontov, and even writes verses. That’s all very well, but this is his third duel.
Masha. And the Baron?
Chebutikin. What about the Baron? [Pause.]
Masha. Everything’s all muddled up in my head. . . . But I say it ought not to be allowed. He might wound the Baron or even kill him.
Chebutikin. The Baron is a good man, but one Baron more or less — what difference does it make? It’s all the same! [Beyond the garden somebody shouts “Co-ee! Hallo! “] You wait. That’s Skvortsov shouting; one of the seconds. He’s in a boat. [Pause.]
Andrey. In my opinion it’s simply immoral to fight in a duel, or to be present, even in the quality of a doctor.
Chebutikin. It only seems so. . . . We don’t exist, there’s nothing on earth, we don’t really live, it only seems that we live. Does it matter, anyway!
Masha. You talk and talk the whole day long. [Going] You live in a climate like this, where it might snow any moment, and there you talk. . . . [Stops] I won’t go into the house, I can’t go there. . . . Tell me when Vershinin comes. . . . [Goes along the avenue] The migrant birds are already on the wing. . . . [Looks up] Swans or geese. . . . My dear, happy things. . . . [Exit.]
Andrey. Our house will be empty. The officers will go away, you are going, my sister is getting married, and I alone will remain in the house.
Chebutikin. And your wife?
[Ferapont enters with some documents.]
Andrey. A wife’s a wife. She’s honest, well-bred, yes; and kind, but with all that there is still something about her that degenerates her into a petty, blind, even in some respects misshapen animal. In any case, she isn’t a man. I tell you as a friend, as the only man to whom I can lay bare my soul. I love Natasha, it’s true, but sometimes she seems extraordinarily vulgar, and then I lose myself and can’t understand why I love her so much, or, at any rate, used to love her. . . .
Chebutikin. [Rises] I’m going away to-morrow, old chap, and perhaps we’ll never meet again, so here’s my advice. Put on your cap, take a stick in your hand, go . . . go on and on, without looking round. And the farther you go, the better.
[Soleni goes across the back of the stage with two officers; he catches sight of Chebutikin, and turns to him, the officers go on.]
Soleni. Doctor, it’s time. It’s half-past twelve already. [Shakes hands with Andrey.]
Chebutikin. Half a minute. I’m tired of the lot of you. [To Andrey] If anybody asks for me, say I’ll be back soon. . . . [Sighs] Oh, oh, oh!
Soleni. “He didn’t have the time to sigh. The bear sat on him heavily.” [Goes up to him] What are you groaning about, old man?
Chebutikin. Stop it!
Soleni. How’s your health?
Chebutikin. [Angry] Mind your own business.
Soleni. The old man is unnecessarily excited. I won’t go far, I’ll only just bring him down like a snipe. [Takes out his scent-bottle and scents his hands] I’ve poured out a whole bottle of scent to-day and they still smell . . . of a dead body. [Pause] Yes. . . . You remember the poem
“But he, the rebel seeks the storm,
As if the storm will bring him rest . . . ”?
“He didn’t have the time to sigh,
The bear sat on him heavily.”
[Exit with Soleni.]
[Shouts are heard. Andrey and Ferapont come in.]
Ferapont. Documents to sign. . . .
Andrey. [Irritated]. Go away! Leave me! Please! [Goes away with the perambulator.]
Ferapont. That’s what documents are for, to be signed. [Retires to back of stage.]
[Enter Irina, with Tuzenbach in a straw hat; Kuligin walks across the stage, shouting “Co-ee, Masha, co-ee!”]
Tuzenbach. He seems to be the only man in the town who is glad that the soldiers are going.
Irina. One can understand that. [Pause] The town will be empty.
Tuzenbach. My dear, I shall return soon.
Irina. Where are you going?
Tuzenbach. I must go into the town and then . . . see the others off.
Irina. It’s not true . . . Nicolai, why are you so absentminded to-day? [Pause] What took place by the theatre yesterday?
Tuzenbach. [Making a movement of impatience] In an hour’s time I shall return and be with you again. [Kisses her hands] My darling . . . [Looking her closely in the face] it’s five years now since I fell in love with you, and still I can’t get used to it, and you seem to me to grow more and more beautiful. What lovely, wonderful hair! What eyes! I’m going to take you away to-morrow. We shall work, we shall be rich, my dreams will come true. You will be happy. There’s only one thing, one thing only: you don’t love me!
Irina. It isn’t in my power! I shall be your wife, I shall be true to you, and obedient to you, but I can’t love you. What can I do! [Cries] I have never been in love in my life. Oh, I used to think so much of love, I have been thinking about it for so long by day and by night, but my soul is like an expensive piano which is locked and the key lost. [Pause] You seem so unhappy.
Tuzenbach. I didn’t sleep at night. There is nothing in my life so awful as to be able to frighten me, only that lost key torments my soul and does not let me sleep. Say something to me [Pause] say something to me. . . .
Irina. What can I say, what?
Irina. Don’t! don’t! [Pause.]
Tuzenbach. It is curious how silly trivial little things, sometimes for no apparent reason, become significant. At first you laugh at these things, you think they are of no importance, you go on and you feel that you haven’t got the strength to stop yourself. Oh don’t let’s talk about it! I am happy. It is as if for the first time in my life I see these firs, maples, beeches, and they all look at me inquisitively and wait. What beautiful trees and how beautiful, when one comes to think of it, life must be near them! [A shout of Co-ee! in the distance] It’s time I went. . . . There’s a tree which has dried up but it still sways in the breeze with the others. And so it seems to me that if I die, I shall still take part in life in one way or another. Good-bye, dear. . . . [Kisses her hands] The papers which you gave me are on my table under the calendar.
Irina. I am coming with you.
Tuzenbach. [Nervously] No, no! [He goes quickly and stops in the avenue] Irina!
Irina. What is it?
Tuzenbach. [Not knowing what to say] I haven’t had any coffee to-day. Tell them to make me some. . . . [He goes out quickly.]
[Irina stands deep in thought. Then she goes to the back of the stage and sits on a swing. Andrey comes in with the perambulator and Ferapont also appears.]
Ferapont. Andrey Sergeyevitch, it isn’t as if the documents were mine, they are the government’s. I didn’t make them.
Andrey. Oh, what has become of my past and where is it? I used to be young, happy, clever, I used to be able to think and frame clever ideas, the present and the future seemed to me full of hope. Why do we, almost before we have begun to live, become dull, grey, uninteresting, lazy, apathetic, useless, unhappy. . . . This town has already been in existence for two hundred years and it has a hundred thousand inhabitants, not one of whom is in any way different from the others. There has never been, now or at any other time, a single leader of men, a single scholar, an artist, a man of even the slightest eminence who might arouse envy or a passionate desire to be imitated. They only eat, drink, sleep, and then they die . . . more people are born and also eat, drink, sleep, and so as not to go silly from boredom, they try to make life many-sided with their beastly backbiting, vodka, cards, and litigation. The wives deceive their husbands, and the husbands lie, and pretend they see nothing and hear nothing, and the evil influence irresistibly oppresses the children and the divine spark in them is extinguished, and they become just as pitiful corpses and just as much like one another as their fathers and mothers. . . . [Angrily to Ferapont] What do you want?
Ferapont. What? Documents want signing.
Andrey. I’m tired of you.
Ferapont. [Handing him papers] The hall-porter from the law courts was saying just now that in the winter there were two hundred degrees of frost in Petersburg.
Andrey. The present is beastly, but when I think of the future, how good it is! I feel so light, so free; there is a light in the distance, I see freedom. I see myself and my children freeing ourselves from vanities, from kvass, from goose baked with cabbage, from after-dinner naps, from base idleness. . . .
Ferapont. He was saying that two thousand people were frozen to death. The people were frightened, he said. In Petersburg or Moscow, I don’t remember which.
Andrey. [Overcome by a tender emotion] My dear sisters, my beautiful sisters! [Crying] Masha, my sister. . . .
Natasha. [At the window] Who’s talking so loudly out here? Is that you, Andrey? You’ll wake little Sophie. Il ne faut pas faire du bruit, la Sophie est dormée deja. Vous êtes un ours. [Angrily] If you want to talk, then give the perambulator and the baby to somebody else. Ferapont, take the perambulator!
Ferapont. Yes’m. [Takes the perambulator.]
Andrey. [Confused] I’m speaking quietly.
Natasha. [At the window, nursing her boy] Bobby! Naughty Bobby! Bad little Bobby!
Andrey. [Looking through the papers] All right, I’ll look them over and sign if necessary, and you can take them back to the offices. . . .
[Goes into house reading papers; Ferapont takes the perambulator to the back of the garden.]
Natasha. [At the window] Bobby, what’s your mother’s name? Dear, dear! And who’s this? That’s Aunt Olga. Say to your aunt, “How do you do, Olga!”
[Two wandering musicians, a man and a girl, are playing on a violin and a harp. Vershinin, Olga, and Anfisa come out of the house and listen for a minute in silence; Irina comes up to them.]
Olga. Our garden might be a public thoroughfare, from the way people walk and ride across it. Nurse, give those musicians something!
Anfisa. [Gives money to the musicians] Go away with God’s blessing on you. [The musicians bow and go away] A bitter sort of people. You don’t play on a full stomach. [To Irina] How do you do, Arisha! [Kisses her] Well, little girl, here I am, still alive! Still alive! In the High School, together with little Olga, in her official apartments . . . so the Lord has appointed for my old age. Sinful woman that I am, I’ve never lived like that in my life before. . . . A large flat, government property, and I’ve a whole room and bed to myself. All government property. I wake up at nights and, oh God, and Holy Mother, there isn’t a happier person than I!
Vershinin. [Looks at his watch] We are going soon, Olga Sergeyevna. It’s time for me to go. [Pause] I wish you every . . . every. . . . Where’s Maria Sergeyevna?
Irina. She’s somewhere in the garden. I’ll go and look for her.
Vershinin. If you’ll be so kind. I haven’t time.
Anfisa. I’ll go and look, too. [Shouts] Little Masha, co-ee! [Goes out with Irina down into the garden] Co-ee, co-ee!
Vershinin. Everything comes to an end. And so we, too, must part. [Looks at his watch] The town gave us a sort of farewell breakfast, we had champagne to drink and the mayor made a speech, and I ate and listened, but my soul was here all the time. . . . [Looks round the garden] I’m so used to you now.
Olga. Shall we ever meet again?
Vershinin. Probably not. [Pause] My wife and both my daughters will stay here another two months. If anything happens, or if anything has to be done . . .
Olga. Yes, yes, of course. You need not worry. [Pause] To-morrow there won’t be a single soldier left in the town, it will all be a memory, and, of course, for us a new life will begin. . . . [Pause] None of our plans are coming right. I didn’t want to be a head-mistress, but they made me one, all the same. It means there’s no chance of Moscow. . . .
Vershinin. Well . . . thank you for everything. Forgive me if I’ve . . . I’ve said such an awful lot — forgive me for that too, don’t think badly of me.
Olga. [Wipes her eyes] Why isn’t Masha coming . . .
Vershinin. What else can I say in parting? Can I philosophize about anything? [Laughs] Life is heavy. To many of us it seems dull and hopeless, but still, it must be acknowledged that it is getting lighter and clearer, and it seems that the time is not far off when it will be quite clear. [Looks at his watch] It’s time I went! Mankind used to be absorbed in wars, and all its existence was filled with campaigns, attacks, defeats, now we’ve outlived all that, leaving after us a great waste place, which there is nothing to fill with at present; but mankind is looking for something, and will certainly find it. Oh, if it only happened more quickly. [Pause] If only education could be added to industry, and industry to education. [Looks at his watch] It’s time I went. . . .
Olga. Here she comes.
Vershinin. I came to say good-bye. . . .
[Olga steps aside a little, so as not to be in their way.]
Masha. [Looking him in the face] Good-bye. [Prolonged kiss.]
Olga. Don’t, don’t. [Masha is crying bitterly]
Vershinin. Write to me. . . . Don’t forget! Let me go. . . . It’s time. Take her, Olga Sergeyevna . . . it’s time . . . I’m late . . .
[He kisses Olga’s hand in evident emotion, then embraces Masha once more and goes out quickly.]
Olga. Don’t, Masha! Stop, dear. . . . [Kuligin enters.]
Kuligin. [Confused] Never mind, let her cry, let her. . . . My dear Masha, my good Masha. . . . You’re my wife, and I’m happy, whatever happens . . . I’m not complaining, I don’t reproach you at all. . . . Olga is a witness to it. Let’s begin to live again as we used to, and not by a single word, or hint . . .
Masha. [Restraining her sobs]
“There stands a green oak by the sea,
And a chain of bright gold is around it. . . .
And a chain of bright gold is around it. . . . ”
I’m going off my head . . . “There stands . . . a green oak . . . by the sea.” . . .
Olga. Don’t, Masha, don’t . . . give her some water. . . .
Masha. I’m not crying any more. . . .
Kuligin. She’s not crying any more . . . she’s a good . . . [A shot is heard from a distance.]
“There stands a green oak by the sea,
And a chain of bright gold is around it . . .
An oak of green gold. . . . ”
I’m mixing it up. . . . [Drinks some water] Life is dull . . . I don’t want anything more now . . . I’ll be all right in a moment. . . . It doesn’t matter. . . . What do those lines mean? Why do they run in my head? My thoughts are all tangled.
Olga. Be quiet, Masha. There’s a good girl. . . . Let’s go in.
Masha. [Angrily] I shan’t go in there. [Sobs, but controls herself at once] I’m not going to go into the house, I won’t go. . . .
Irina. Let’s sit here together and say nothing. I’m going away to-morrow. . . . [Pause.]
Kuligin. Yesterday I took away these whiskers and this beard from a boy in the third class. . . . [He puts on the whiskers and beard] Don’t I look like the German master. . . . [Laughs] Don’t I? The boys are amusing.
Masha. You really do look like that German of yours.
Olga. [Laughs] Yes. [Masha weeps.]
Irina. Don’t, Masha!
Kuligin. It’s a very good likeness. . . .
Natasha. [To the maid] What? Mihail Ivanitch Protopopov will sit with little Sophie, and Andrey Sergeyevitch can take little Bobby out. Children are such a bother. . . . [To Irina] Irina, it’s such a pity you’re going away to-morrow. Do stop just another week. [Sees Kuligin and screams; he laughs and takes off his beard and whiskers] How you frightened me! [To Irina] I’ve grown used to you and do you think it will be easy for me to part from you? I’m going to have Andrey and his violin put into your room — let him fiddle away in there! — and we’ll put little Sophie into his room. The beautiful, lovely child! What a little girlie! To-day she looked at me with such pretty eyes and said “Mamma!”
Kuligin. A beautiful child, it’s quite true.
Natasha. That means I shall have the place to myself to-morrow. [Sighs] In the first place I shall have that avenue of fir-trees cut down, then that maple. It’s so ugly at nights. . . . [To Irina] That belt doesn’t suit you at all, dear. . . . It’s an error of taste. And I’ll give orders to have lots and lots of little flowers planted here, and they’ll smell. . . . [Severely] Why is there a fork lying about here on the seat? [Going towards the house, to the maid] Why is there a fork lying about here on the seat, I say? [Shouts] Don’t you dare to answer me!
Kuligin. Temper! temper! [A march is played off; they all listen.]
Olga. They’re going.
[Chebutikin comes in.]
Masha. They’re going. Well, well. . . . Bon voyage! [To her husband] We must be going home. . . . Where’s my coat and hat?
Kuligin. I took them in . . . I’ll bring them, in a moment.
Olga. Yes, now we can all go home. It’s time.
Chebutikin. Olga Sergeyevna!
Olga. What is it? [Pause] What is it?
Chebutikin. Nothing . . . I don’t know how to tell you. . . . [Whispers to her.]
Olga. [Frightened] It can’t be true!
Chebutikin. Yes . . . such a story . . . I’m tired out, exhausted, I won’t say any more. . . . [Sadly] Still, it’s all the same!
Masha. What’s happened?
Olga. [Embraces Irina] This is a terrible day . . . I don’t know how to tell you, dear. . . .
Irina. What is it? Tell me quickly, what is it? For God’s sake! [Cries.]
Chebutikin. The Baron was killed in the duel just now.
Irina. [Cries softly] I knew it, I knew it. . . .
Chebutikin. [Sits on a bench at the back of the stage] I’m tired. . . . [Takes a paper from his pocket] Let ’em cry. . . . [Sings softly] “Tarara-boom-deay, it is my washing day. . . . ” Isn’t it all the same!
[The three sisters are standing, pressing against one another.]
Masha. Oh, how the music plays! They are leaving us, one has quite left us, quite and for ever. We remain alone, to begin our life over again. We must live . . . we must live. . . .
Irina. [Puts her head on Olga’s bosom] There will come a time when everybody will know why, for what purpose, there is all this suffering, and there will be no more mysteries. But now we must live . . . we must work, just work! To-morrow, I’ll go away alone, and I’ll teach and give my whole life to those who, perhaps, need it. It’s autumn now, soon it will be winter, the snow will cover everything, and I shall be working, working. . . .
Olga. [Embraces both her sisters] The bands are playing so gaily, so bravely, and one does so want to live! Oh, my God! Time will pass on, and we shall depart for ever, we shall be forgotten; they will forget our faces, voices, and even how many there were of us, but our sufferings will turn into joy for those who will live after us, happiness and peace will reign on earth, and people will remember with kindly words, and bless those who are living now. Oh dear sisters, our life is not yet at an end. Let us live. The music is so gay, so joyful, and, it seems that in a little while we shall know why we are living, why we are suffering. . . . If we could only know, if we could only know!
[The music has been growing softer and softer; Kuligin, smiling happily, brings out the hat and coat; Andrey wheels out the perambulator in which Bobby is sitting.]
Chebutikin. [Sings softly] “Tara . . . ra-boom-deay. . . . It is my washing-day.” . . . [Reads a paper] It’s all the same! It’s all the same!
Olga. If only we could know, if only we could know!
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Last updated Sunday, March 27, 2016 at 11:53