OLGA. The meeting is only just over. I'm tired out. Our headmistress is ill and I have to take her place. Oh, my head, my head does ache; oh, my head! [Sits down.] Andrey lost two hundred roubles yesterday at cards. . . . The whole town is talking about it, . . .
KULYGIN. Yes, I'm tired out by the meeting too [sits down].
VERSHININ. My wife took it into her head to give me a fright, she nearly poisoned herself. It's all right now, and I'm glad, it's a relief, . . . So we are to go away? Very well, then, I'll say good night. Fyodor Ilyitch, let's go somewhere together! I can't stay at home, I absolutely can't. . . . Come along!
KULYGIN. I am tired. I'm not coming [gets up]. I'm tired. Has my wife gone home?
IRINA. I expect so.
KULYGIN [kisses IRINA'S hand]. Good-bye! I have all day tomorrow and next day to rest. Good night! [Going] I do want some tea. I was counting on spending the evening in pleasant company. . . . O fallacem hominum spem! . . . Accusative of exclamation.
VERSHININ. Well, then, I must go alone [goes out with KULYGIN, whistling].
OLGA. My head aches, oh, how my head aches. . . . Andrey has lost at cards. . . . The whole town is talking about it. . . . I'll go and lie down [is going]. Tomorrow I'll be free. . . . Oh, God, how nice that is! Tomorrow I'm free, and the day after I'm free. . . . My head does ache, oh, my head . . . [goes out].
IRINA [alone]. They've all gone away. There's no one left.
[An accordion plays in the street, the nanny sings.]
NATASHA [in a fur cap and coat crosses the dining-room, followed by the maid]. I'll be back in half an hour. I'll only go a little way [goes out].
IRINA [left alone, in dejection]. Oh, to go to Moscow, to Moscow!
CURTAIN. Act III
The bedroom of OLGA and IRINA. On the left and right beds with screens round them. Past two o'clock in the night. Behind the scenes a bell is ringing on account of a fire in the town, which has been going on for some time. It can be seen that no one in the house has gone to bed yet. On the sofa MASHA is lying, dressed as usual in black. Enter OLGA and ANFISA.
ANFISA. They are sitting below, under the stairs. . . . I said to them, "Come upstairs; why, you mustn't stay there" -- they only cried. "We don't know where father is," they said. "What if he is burnt!" What an idea! And the poor souls in the yard . . . they are all undressed too.
OLGA [taking clothes out of the closet]. Take this grey dress . . . and this one . . . and the blouse too . . . and that skirt, nanny. . . . Oh, dear, what a dreadful thing! Kirsanov Street is burnt to the ground, it seems. . . . Take this . . . take this . . . [throws clothes into her arms]. The Vershinins have had a fright, poor things. . . . Their house was very nearly burnt. Let them stay the night here . . . we can't let them go home. . . . Poor Fedotik has had everything burnt, he doesn't have a thing left. . . .
ANFISA. You'd better call Ferapont, Olyushka darling, I can't carry it all.
OLGA [rings]. No one will answer the bell [at the door]. Come here, whoever is there! [Through the open door can be seen a window red with fire; the fire brigade is heard passing the house.] How awful it is! And I'm sick of it!
[Enter FERAPONT.]
OLGA. Here take these, carry them downstairs. . . . The Kolotilin young ladies are downstairs . . . give it to them . . . and give this too.
FERAPONT. Yes, miss. In 1812 Moscow was burnt too. . . . Mercy on us! The French were surprised.
OLGA. You can go now.
FERAPONT. Yes, miss [goes out].
OLGA. Nanny darling, give them everything. We don't want anything, give it all to them. . . . I'm tired, I can hardly stand on my feet. . . . We mustn't let the Vershinins go home. . . . The little girls can sleep in the drawing-room, and Alexandr Ignatyevitch down below at the baron's. . . . Fedotik can go to the baron's, too, or sleep in our dining-room. . . . As ill-luck will have it, the doctor is drunk, frightfully drunk, and no one can be put in his room. And Vershinin's wife can be in the drawing-room too.
ANFISA [wearily]. Olyushka darling, don't send me away; don't send me away!
OLGA. That's nonsense, nanny. No one is sending you away.
ANFISA [lays her head on OLGA'S shoulder]. My own, my treasure, I work, I do my best. . . . I'm getting weak, everyone will say "Send her away!" And where am I to go? Where? I'm eighty. Eighty-one.
OLGA. Sit down, nanny darling. . . . You are tired, poor thing . . . [makes her sit down]. Rest, dear good nanny. . . . How pale you are!
[Enter NATASHA.]
NATASHA. They're saying we must form a committee at once for the assistance of those whose houses have been burnt. Well, that's a good idea. Indeed, we ought always to be ready to help the poor, it's the duty of the rich. Bobik and baby Sophie are both asleep, sleeping as though nothing were happening. There are such a lot of people everywhere, wherever you go, the house is full. There is influenza in the town now; I'm so afraid the children may get it.
OLGA [not listening]. In this room you can't see the fire, it's quiet here.
NATASHA. Yes . . . my hair must be untidy [in front of the mirror]. They say I have grown fatter . . . but it's not true! Not a bit! Masha is asleep, she is tired out, poor dear. . . . [To ANFISA coldly] Don't dare to sit down in my presence! Get up! Go out of the room! [ANFISA goes out; a pause]. Why you keep that old woman, I can't understand!
OLGA [taken aback]. Excuse me, I don't understand either. . . .
NATASHA. She is no use here. She's a peasant; she ought to be in the country. . . . You spoil people! I like order in the house! There ought to be no useless servants in the house. [Strokes her cheek.] You are tired, poor darling. Our headmistress is tired! When baby Sophie is a big girl and goes to the high-school, I shall be afraid of you.
OLGA. I won't be headmistress.
NATASHA. You'll be elected, Olechka. That's a settled thing.
OLGA. I'll refuse. I can't, . . . It's too much for me . . . [drinks water]. You were so rude to nanny just now. . . . Excuse me, I can't endure it, . . . It makes me feel faint.
NATASHA [perturbed]. Forgive me, Olya; forgive me. . . . I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.
[MASHA gets up, takes her pillow, and goes out in a rage.]
OLGA. You must understand, my dear, it may be that we have been strangely brought up, but I can't endure it, . . . Such an attitude oppresses me, it makes me ill. . . . I feel simply unnerved by it, . . .
NATASHA. Forgive me; forgive me . . . [kisses her].
OLGA. The very slightest rudeness, a tactless word, upsets me. . . .
NATASHA. I often say too much, that's true, but you must admit, dear, that she might just as well be in the country.
OLGA. She's been with us for thirty years.
NATASHA. But now she can't work! Either I don't understand, or you won't understand me. She's not fit for work. She does nothing but sleep or sit still.