FEDOTIK. I'll show you another kind of patience . . . [lays out the cards] .
[The samovar is brought in; ANFISA is at the samovar; a little later NATASHA comes in and is also busy at the table; SOLYONY comes in, and after greeting the others sits down at the table.]
VERSHININ. What a wind there is!
MASHA. Yes. I'm sick of the winter. I've already forgotten what summer is like.
IRINA. The game is working out right, I see. We shall go to Moscow.
FEDOTIK. No, it's not working out. You see, the eight is over the two of spades [laughs]. So that means you won't go to Moscow.
CHEBUTYKIN [reads from the newspaper]. Tsitsikar. Smallpox is raging here.
ANFISA [going up to MASHA]. Masha, come to tea, my dear. [To VERSHININ] Come, your honour . . . excuse me, sir, I've forgotten your name. . . .
MASHA. Bring it here, nanny, I'm not going there.
IRINA. Nanny!
ANFISA. I'm coming!
NATASHA [to SOLYONY] Little babies understand very well. "Good morning, Bobik, good morning, darling," I said. He looked at me in quite a special way. You think I say that because I'm a mother, but no, I assure you! He's an extraordinary child.
SOLYONY. If that child were mine, I'd fry him in a frying pan and eat him. [Takes his glass, comes into the drawing-room and sits down in a corner.]
NATASHA [covers her face with her hands]. Rude, ill-bred man!
MASHA. Happy people don't notice whether it is winter or summer. I think if I lived in Moscow I wouldn't mind what the weather was like, . . .
VERSHININ. The other day I was reading the diary of a French minister written in prison. The minister was condemned for the Panama affair. With what enthusiasm and delight he describes the birds he sees from the prison window, which he never noticed before when he was a minister. Now that he's released, of course he notices birds no more than he did before. In the same way, you won't notice Moscow when you live in it. We have no happiness and never do have, we only long for it.
TUZENBAKH [takes a box from the table]. What has become of the sweets?
IRINA. Solyony has eaten them.
TUZENBAKH. All?
ANFISA [serving tea]. There's a letter for you, sir.
VERSHININ. For me? [Takes the letter.] From my daughter [reads]. Yes, of course, . . . Excuse me, Marya Sergeyevna, I'll slip away. I won't have tea [gets up in agitation]. Always these upsets. . . .
MASHA. What is it? Not a secret?
VERSHININ [in a low voice]. My wife has taken poison again. I must go. I'll slip off unnoticed. Horribly unpleasant it all is. [Kisses MASHA'S hand] My fine, dear, splendid woman. . . . I'll go this way without being seen . . . [goes out].
ANFISA. Where is he off to? I've just given him his tea. . . What a man.
MASHA [getting angry]. Leave me alone! Don't pester, you give me no peace . . . [goes with her cup to the table]. You bother me, old lady.
ANFISA. Why are you so huffy? Darling!
[Andrey's voice: "Anfisa!"]
ANFISA [mimicking]. Anfisa! He sits there. . . . [goes out].
MASHA [by the table in the dining-room, angrily]. Let me sit down! [Mixes the cards on the table.] You take up all the table with your cards . Drink your tea!
IRINA. How mean you are, Masha!
MASHA. If I'm mean, don't talk to me. Don't interfere with me.
CHEBUTYKIN [laughing]. Don't interfere, don't interfere!
MASHA. You're sixty years old, but you talk rot like a schoolboy, just to raise hell.
NATASHA [sighs]. Dear Masha, why make use of such expressions in conversation? With your attractive appearance I tell you straight out, you would be simply fascinating in a well-bred social circle if it were not for the things you say. Je vous prie, pardonnez-moi, Marie, mais vous avez des manières un peu grossières.
TUZENBAKH [suppressing a laugh]. Give me . . . give me . . . I think there is some brandy there.
NATASHA. Il paraît que mon Bobik déjà ne dort pas, he's awake. He isn't well today. I must go to him, excuse me. . . . [goes out] .
IRINA. Where has Alexandr Ignatyevitch gone?
MASHA. Home. Something going on with his wife again.
TUZENBAKH [goes up to SOLYONY with a decanter of brandy in his hand]. You always sit alone, thinking, and there's no making out what you think about. Come, let's make peace. Let's have a drink of brandy. [They drink.] I'll have to play the piano all night, I suppose, play all sorts of trash. . . . Here goes!
SOLYONY. Why do you want to make peace? I haven't quarrelled with you.
TUZENBAKH. You always make me feel as though something had gone wrong between us. You are a strange character, there's no denying that.
SOLYONY. [declaims]. I am strange, who is not strange! Be not wrath, Aleko!
TUZENBAKH. I don't see what Aleko has got to do with it, . . . [a pause]
SOLYONY. When I'm tête-à-tête with somebody, I'm all right, just like anyone else, but in company I'm depressed, ill at ease and . . . say all sorts of idiotic things, but at the same time I'm more conscientious and straightforward than many. And I can prove it, . . .
TUZENBAKH. I often feel angry with you, you're always attacking me when we're in company, and yet I somehow like you. What the hell, I'm going to drink a lot today. Let's drink!
SOLYONY. Let's [drinks]. I've never had anything against you, Baron. But I have the temperament of Lermontov. [In a low voice] In fact I'm rather like Lermontov to look at . . . so I'm told [takes out scent-bottle and sprinkles scent on his hands].
TUZENBAKH. I have sent in my resignation. I've had enough of it! I have been thinking of it for five years and at last I have come to a decision. I'm going to work.
SOLYONY [declaims]. Be not wrath, Aleko, . . . Forget, forget thy dreams. . . .
[While they are talking ANDREY comes in quietly with a book and sits down by a candle.]
TUZENBAKH. I'm going to work.
CHEBUTYKIN [coming into the drawing-room with IRINA]. And the food too was real Caucasian stuff: onion soup and for the meat course tchehartma, . . .
SOLYONY. Tcheremsha is not meat at all, it's a plant rather like our onion.
CHEBUTYKIN. No, my dear soul. It's not onion, but mutton roasted in a special way.
SOLYONY. But I tell you that tcheremsha is an onion.
CHEBUTYKIN. And I tell you that tchehartma is mutton.
SOLYONY. And I tell you that tcheremsha is an onion.
CHEBUTYKIN. What's the use of my arguing with you? You have never been to the Caucasus or eaten tchehartma.
SOLYONY. I haven't eaten it because I can't stand it. Tcheremsha smells like garlic.
ANDREY [imploringly]. That's enough! Please!
TUZENBAKH. When are the Carnival party coming?
IRINA. They promised to come at nine, so they will be here directly.
TUZENBAKH [embraces ANDREY and sings] . "Oh my porch, oh my new porch . . .
ANDREY [dances and sings]. "With posts of maple wood. . .
CHEBUTYKIN [dances]. "And lattice work complete . . [laughter].