RAKITIN. Quelle tirade! Nature is healthy . . . that is, in other words, I'm a sickly creature.
NATALYA PETROVNA. You're not the only sickly creature, we are neither of us too healthy.
RAKITIN. Oh, I know that way of telling a person the most unpleasant things in the most inoffensive way. . . . Instead of telling him to his face, for instance, you're a fool, my friend, you need only tell him with a good-natured smile, we are both fools, you know.
NATALYA PETROVNA. You're offended? What nonsense! I only meant to say that we are both . . . since you don't like the word sickly .. . we are both old, very old.
RAKITIN. In what way are we old? I don't think so of myself.
NATALYA PETROVNA. Well, listen; here we are sitting ... on this very seat a quarter of an hour ago two really young creatures have been sitting, perhaps.
RAKITIN. Beliayev and Verotchka? Of course they are younger than we are . . . there's a few years' difference between us, that's all. . . . But that doesn't make us old yet.
NATALYA PETROVNA. The difference between us is not only in years.
RAKITIN. Ah! I understand. . . . You envy them . . . their naïveté; their freshness and innocence . . their foolishness, in fact.
NATALYA PETROVNA. You think so? Oh, you think that they are foolish? You think everybody foolish to-day, I see. No, you don't understand me. And besides . . . foolish? What does that matter? What's the good of being clever, if you're not amusing. Nothing is more depressing than that sort of gloomy cleverness.
RAKITIN. Hm. . . . Why don't you say it straight out, without these hints? I don't amuse you . . . that's what you mean. Why find fault with cleverness in general on account of one miserable sinner like me?
NATALYA PETROVNA. No, that's not what I mean. . . . [KATYA comes out from among the bushes.] Have you been picking raspberries, Katya?
KATYA. Yes, madam.
NATALYA PETROVNA. Show me. [KATYA goes up to her.] What splendid raspberries! What a colour . . . though your cheeks are redder still. [KATYA smiles and looks down.] Well, run along----
[KATYA goes out]
RAKITIN. There's a young creature after your taste.
NATALYA PETROVNA. Of course. [Gets up]
RAKITIN. Where are you going?
NATALYA PETROVNA. First, I want to see what Verotchka's doing . . . it's time she was indoors . . . and secondly I must own I don't like our conversation. We had better drop our disscussions of nature and youth for a time.
RAKITIN. Perhaps you would rather walk alone?
NATALYA PETROVNA. To tell the truth, I should. We shall see each other again soon. . . . But we are parting friends? [Holds out her hand to him]
RAKITIN [getting up]. Yes indeed! [Presses her hand]
NATALYA PETROVNA. Good-bye for the present. [She opens her parasol and goes off at Left]
RAKITIN [walks up and down for some time]. What is the matter with her? [A pause.] Simply caprice. But is it? I have never seen that in her before. On the contrary, I know no woman less moody. What is the reason? [Walks to and fro again and suddenly stands still.] Ah, how absurd a man is who has only one idea in his head, one object, one interest in life. . . . Like me, for instance. It was true what she said: one keeps watching trifling things from morning to night, and one grows trivial oneself. . . . That's so; but without her I can't live, in her presence I am more than happy; the feeling can't be called happiness, I belong to her entirely, parting from her would . . . without exaggeration ... be exactly like parting with life. What is wrong with her? What's the meaning of her agitation, the involuntary bitterness of her words? Is she beginning to be weary of me? Hm? [Sits down.] I have never deceived myself, I know very well how she loves me; but I hoped that with time that quiet feeling ... I hoped? Have I the right to hope, dare I hope? I confess my position is pretty absurd . . . almost contemptible. . . . [A pause.] What's the use of talking like that? She's an honest woman, and I'm not a Lovelace. [With a bitter smile.] More's the pity! [Getting up quickly.] Well, that's enough! I must put this nonsense out of my head! [Walking up and down.] What a glorious day! [A pause.] How skilfully she stung me! ... My choice and happy expressions. . . . She's very clever, especially when she's in a bad humour. And what's this sudden adoration of youth and innocence? . . . This tutor. . . . She often talks about him. I must say I see nothing very striking in him. He's simply a student, like all students. Can she .. . impossible! She's out of humour . . . she doesn't know what she wants and so she snaps at me, as children beat their nurse. ... A flattering comparison! But she must go her own way. When this fit of depression and uneasiness is over, she will be the first to laugh at that lanky boy, that raw youth. . . . Your explanation is not bad, Mihail Alex-andritch, but is it true? God knows! Well, we shall see. It's not the first time, my dear fellow, that after endless fretting and pondering you have had suddenly to give up all your subtle conjectures, fold you hands and wait meekly for what is to come. And meanwhile you must recognize it's pretty awkward and bitter for you. . . . But that's what I'm for, it seems. . . . [Looking round.] Ah, here he is, our unsophisticated young man! . . . Just when he's wanted. ... I haven't once had a real talk with him. Let's see what he's like. [BELIAYEV comes in on Left.] Ah! Alexey Nikolaitch! So you have come out for a turn in the fresh air too?
BELIAYEV. Yes.
RAKITIN. Though I must say the air is not so very fresh to-day: the heat's terrific, but in the shade here under these lime trees it's endurable. [A pause.] Did you see Natalya Petrovna?
BELIAYEV. I met her just now. ... She's gone indoors with Vera Alexandrovna.
RAKITIN. Wasn't it you I saw here half an hour ago with Vera Alexandrovna?
BELIAYEV. Yes. .. . We were having a walk.
RAKITIN. Ah! [Takes his arm.] Well, how do you like living in the country?
BELIAYEV. I like the country. The only thing is, the shooting is not good here.
RAKITIN. You're fond of shooting then?
BELIAYEV. Yes. . . . Aren't you?
RAKITIN. I? No; I'm a poor shot. I'm too lazy.
BELIAYEV. I'm lazy too . . . but not in that way.
RAKITIN. Oh! Are you lazy about reading then?
BELIAYEV. No, I love reading. But I'm too lazy to work long at a time, especially too lazy to go on doing the same thing.
RAKITIN [Smiling.] Talking to ladies, for instance?
BELIAYEV. Ah, you're laughing at me. . . . I'm frightened of ladies.
RAKITIN [Slightly embarrassed]. What an idea! Why should I laugh at you?
BELIAYEV. Oh, that's all right. ... I don't mind!
[A pause.] Tell me where can I get gunpowder about here?
RAKITIN. You can get it no doubt in the town; it is sold there. But do you want good powder?
BELIAYEV. No, it's not for shooting, it's for making fireworks.